Streams Of Yesterday

by W.H. Harrod

Standing behind the counter the next Monday morning watching my reinvigorated co-conspirator, the Mayor, leave the restaurant headed for a full day’s work running the town and tending to his multiple sales businesses, I felt somewhat envious. If only I could disassociate from the salient local issues as he obviously had, life might be a little more enjoyable. Yeah right. Like that’s going to happen.

  Fortunately, what was left of the weekend after my visit to the meat freezer went well. I did, in fact, watch a couple football games. That activity, along with finishing off half of one of Mary June’s pies and a couple of naps on the couch, put me in much better spirits. About the only thing I needed to do now, apart from my diner chores, I figured, was to prepare for the Great Debate coming up Thursday night at the grade school gym. Mary June’s prediction that this year’s debate looked be a barn burner turned out to be right on the money. Most of the customers stopping by the diner proclaimed their intent to attend this year’s high plains smack down. I’d tried to take the whole thing more seriously, but having had the opportunity to briefly talk with my esteemed opponent a couple of times, I’d determined the man offered nothing but more of the same failed neoconservative political philosophy now being universally lambasted by Democrat and practical-minded Republican candidates alike. Traditional Republicans were going all out to distance themselves from any reported past association with the proponents of the now discredited “Outline for a New American Century.”

  Having read the complete treatise of the plan, I initially came away thinking it represented a bold undertaking. It essentially justified our country being at the top of the world’s material wealth pyramid, lording over the rest of humanity. Of course, in theory, the rest of the world still benefited, much as the civilized world ruled by ancient Rome benefited during the hundreds of years of Pax Romana. Real nice work, if you can get it. Of course, it helped if all the modern day pretenders to the throne would have had the testicles to back their plan with sufficient force. Instead, they decided that by abusing a dedicated and highly professional military, underfunded and weakened by persistent bureaucratic cut backs, they could conquer the world on the cheap. They found out in Iraq and Afghanistan that people living much like humans did back in the Stone Age don’t lose much when they are bombed back to the Stone Age. In the end, all that happened amounted to a lot of non-political but fanatically religious people with nothing to lose, but mud houses and their own miserable and persistently impoverished lives, got pissed off and started putting up stiff a resistance through unconventional warfare. Now, thousands of casualties and trillions of borrowed dollars later, our country still did not control either the much sought after oil fields that they denied played any part in the decision to attack or the recalcitrant Islamic populations. Chicken hawks with ambitions much larger than their talons had led the country into a morass that one day soon may play a large part in ensuring its economic collapse.

  “See you, Will.” The voices of the geezers saying goodbye brought me out of my mental wanderings.

  “So long guys. Have a good one,” I yelled after them as the last straggler went out the front door. Looking around, I counted not more than a handful of customers seated in the diner. Most of those seemed to be in no hurry to get anywhere as they chatted away while enjoying their coffee. Turning my attention back to my job, I came to the conclusion that the ship was on course. This came as a relief to me since I dealt with multiple non-diner issues looming in the background any of which could jump up and throw a big wrench into the middle of things without a moments notice.

  Both Flo and Mary June went about their usual duties as if I were not around. They knew exactly what to do, and usually, things were prepared well in advance. Likewise, when a rush ended they knew how to clean up quickly and get ready for the next one. The best thing I could do amounted to helping out where needed. At that moment, it looked as if my services were most needed to bus tables. So that’s where I headed.

  No sooner did I arrive at a table, bus pan in hand, than the occupants of the nearest table reminded me of how much they appreciated my hard work at the diner and my efforts to help to save the Justice City plant, and that they were looking forward to the Great Debate. I, of course, thanked them and moved along to the next, piled high with dirty dishes, table. Right about the exact moment I wiped the last table clean with my damp cloth and prepared to deliver my pan full of plates, cups, and utensils to the kitchen sink for a good scrubbing, the phone rang. I looked to see if my co-workers were anywhere near the phone. They weren’t, so I headed that way anticipating the worst. Too many times that noisy, mind destroying, life-sucking contraption brought me bad news in the form of more worry and responsibility. My pace of travel towards the cacophonous appliance coincided with my growing distain for the mass of technological gadgetry often doing little more than crowding more work into the average person’s day. I felt sure that some day, long into the future, when aliens finally did land on this, by then, long dead and polluted planet, they would read our final epithet, handwritten on the last piece of paper, made from the very last tree, by the last surviving human, “It wasn’t our fault. It was that damn technology.”

  “Hello?” I said into the cordless, plastic devil box. “This is Will. How can I help you?”

  I was right. It was trouble. “Will, this is Jack Fletcher at the plant. We got a little problem we need to talk to you about. It has to do with the stock market, the economy, and all that financial stuff. Some of the workers are unsure what to do about their retirement investments. Would it be possible for me and the other members of the workers’ committee to come by the diner and talk with you this afternoon, say after 3 p.m.?”

  I thought for a moment to make sure I had no prior meetings or anything else planned that might interfere before I answered. “Sure, come on by. I’ll be here,” I answered, trying not to betray my surprise at issues having arisen so quickly.

  “Thanks, Will. We’ll see you then,” the caller said before he hung up leaving me holding the cordless phone to my ear and wondering how serious the workers were about questioning their investment choices.

  Turning to go back to my day job of bussing tables, I caught sight of both Mary June and Flo looking towards me. I laughed, trying to assure them no new calamity had arisen demanding more of my time away from the diner. “Don’t worry. Nothing new came up, just Jack and a few of the employees coming over to talk about some things later this afternoon.” I’d determined it worked better if I kept my diner associates up-to-date as much as possible relating to my activities. Otherwise, they pestered the heck out of me to find out who else wanted more of the shrinking hours in my daily work schedule.

  The remainder of the morning brought no new community problems to the diner’s door, thankfully. I’d determined that absent the outside issues demanding more and more of my time, the actual diner operations ran smoothly. Everyone knew his or her responsibilities. I knew mine. Flo and Mary June knew theirs. The suppliers knew theirs. Just as important, the customers knew theirs. All in all, we had a pretty good little system going. Not trying to claim all or even most of the kudos for the newfound success of the diner, I still felt justified in believing I played some part in its resurrection.

  Everything ran as smooth as could be hoped for during the rest of the day. Most of our lunch traffic included individuals on the work clock who by necessity operated on a NASA like schedule. I hoped they returned to their day jobs well fed and knowing a least one place in town realized they were deserving of consideration. The lunch crowd, absent the geezers, required a different set of social skills, along with prompt and courteous service, so they rarely had time for the banter the morning crowd demanded. The lunch time customers came in wearing their game faces that they would not put aside until much later in the day, possibly not until their family chores were complete. Only then would many of them sit down for a few minutes to rest their beleaguered brains and chat with their spouses and children.

  Later, having said
goodbye to my co-workers as they scurried out the door heading to their respective homes and the next set of responsibilities awaiting them, I took inventory of my to-do list scribbled on a pad atop the counter. Included on the list, along with the usual chores, was the 3 p.m. meeting with the plant committee and a note to call Carlton about going to Topeka to play golf as I promised. I knew he preferred to play during the week, but all I could see happening at this time was my getting away on a Sunday or, at best, on a late Saturday morning if I could talk my co-workers into covering for me. I’d imagined the response from Flo if I deigned to make such a suggestion. The images coming to mind were not pretty. I knew Mary June would be supportive, but Flo would demand my firstborn, figuratively speaking or, more likely, some future favor only an individual in possession of a seriously disturbed sense of humor could contrive. But if a promise needed to be made, I would honor it, no matter that it necessitated my placing my mental health at the feet of an ingeniously devious waitress suspected by many to have recently escaped from the nether world. I shivered as I folded the list and stuffed it deep into my pants pocket to be dealt with later. Much later!

  I set to work preparing for the next day while I kept my eye on the clock. I hoped to have the greater part of the work completed prior to the plant committee arriving. Barring any interruptions, I fully expected I could make that happen. That silly notion lasted only until Preacher Roy came through the front door sporting a face as red as a beet. This isn’t going to be good. I put aside all plans of finishing up before my 3 p.m. meeting. Preacher Roy looked very close to having steam coming out of his ears. I didn’t bother to say hello knowing he probably wouldn’t hear me if I did.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have an ax handle lying around the diner I could borrow, would you Will?” the Preacher asked as he came to a stop not two feet from where I stood. Not receiving a reply from me as I stood there hoping the man was joking, Preacher Roy calmly changed his request. “No? Well, then how about a baseball bat or maybe a loose two by four lying around in the back? No? Well, I guess I’ll just have to use my hands. Nice to see you, Will,” said Preacher Roy. Then he turned away heading for the door.

  “Wait a minute,” I yelled towards the departing individual who was reaching his arm forward to push the door open. The Preacher halted and abruptly turned to await any additional response on my part. I felt awkward then since I naturally assumed the man intended some most unholy mischief with the items previously requested.

  “I hope you have some productive reason for needing those items. This doesn’t have anything to do with a certain evangelical preacher over in Justice City, does it?” I said to my friend, concern evident in my voice.

  Having turned back towards me looking as if my inquiry was made in jest, Preacher Roy said. “You know Will, the Bible says, ‘The Lord works His wonders in mysterious ways.’”

  I don’t know how or why I recalled right then the correct version of that often misquoted Bible verse, but I did, and I corrected the Preacher. “Actually it says, ‘God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants His footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.’”

  Preacher Roy seemed surprised I could quote scripture. “Very good,” he said, before offering another verse. “An eye for an eye—”

  “And a tooth for a tooth,” I responded, cutting the Preacher off.

  But I didn’t stop there. I remembered a couple more Bible quotes I’d randomly gathered over the years that related to this subject. “I personally prefer the one from Proverbs 29:11, ‘A fool gives vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.’ Then there is always James 1:20 which if I remember correctly says, ‘For a man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.’”

  That did it! The man’s face went stone cold, and he stood in place as if nailed to the floor. I couldn’t tell if Preacher Roy intended to drop to his knees asking his God for forgiveness or walk over and punch me in the nose for using tools from his own tool bag to make a small but important point: Preachers should not go around looking for baseball bats to use on their fellow human beings.

  I knew I was not going to be the one to move or speak first. I’d said far too much already. The eerie silence that ensued unnerved me. Still, I stood my ground, awaiting his response. Then, slowly, I detected the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. There was no mistake about it. A smile was fighting its way to the surface.

  “In mysterious ways, Will.” said the Preacher. “He works his wonders in mysterious ways. Think about that, Will. I’ve got to get back to the farm and finish some chores that were interrupted by a disturbing call from one of my parishioners in Justice City. If you don’t mind, I’ll say my thanks later to the One I’m convinced, more and more each day, brought you to our town. Good day to you, Mr. Will Clayton.”

  I stood there after he left wondering what in the heck the man meant by all that thanking the One who brought me here stuff. I brought me here. Maybe someday, if I ever regain my senses, I’ll take what’s left of my sorely put upon brain and go back to Texas where all I’ll have to worry about is the heat, hurricanes, and drunk cowboys driving big pickup trucks.

  I looked at my watch and determined the rest of my chores were going to have to wait until after the meeting with the guys from the plant. That was okay. My social schedule was still not crowded. I checked the coffee pot in case someone needed a caffeine hit. There was still half of a fairly fresh pot. I figured I had enough time to get the frozen rolls out of the freezer to start the long process of thawing out before time came to stick them in the oven early tomorrow morning.

  My timing was good because as I exited the kitchen after setting out several dozen, frozen cinnamon roll pellets, the gang from the plant walked through the door.

  “Afternoon, Will,” said Jack Fletcher the group spokesperson. “Where should we sit?”

  “How about over here closer to the coffee pot and the phone? If any of you fellows want coffee, help yourselves. It’s on the house. If you would rather have water, tea, or a carbonated beverage, that’s on the house, too.” I stood prepared to provide service, but they all declined. I promptly pulled a fifth chair up to the table and joined the group.

  “Okay, what have we got today?” I inquired.

  As I expected, the three men accompanying the plant superintendent looked to him to provide the answer to my question. Jack, in the meantime, busied himself sorting through various papers and newspaper articles he carried in a manila folder. After satisfying himself that he possessed the information he wanted, he turned to me.

  “Will, have you been following the stock market?” he asked.

  “Yes, I look from time to time. I like to have a feel for what’s going on in the financial markets of the country as well as the rest of the world,” I answered.

  “Well, what’s your thinking about the markets? The reason I’m asking for all of us is that right now our 401k funds are tied up in diversified investments. We have the option of investing our savings in stocks, bonds, and money market accounts. Frankly, we’re wondering where our money would be the safest. In the market or invested in stock in the company? We all want our jobs but is this a good time to be risking all our savings in a manufacturing facility located in Justice City, Kansas? We decided we would like to hear your opinion on this. Can you help us out here, Will?”

  I was impressed. They asked very good questions. They should stop and look hard at this very important investment decision in view of all the salient facts. Would it be better to walk away with their nest eggs intact? Maybe they should call it quits and take their savings and try to find new jobs. I didn’t know how much assistance I’d be able to provide them since I wasn’t privy to the plant’s financial papers.

  “First of all, this is the smart thing to do,” I began. “Ask these questions now, so you can make an intelligent decision relating to investing in yourselves as the owners and operators of a going business concern. Ask the owne
r for access to the profit and loss statements for the past five years, along with the tax returns. Have them reviewed by professionals. You will need to talk with the dealers who actually inventory and sell the equipment. What are their feelings and expectations regarding future sales? Armed with that information, sales for the coming years can then be projected to some degree of accuracy. The owner of the plant is going to sell either one of two things: a viable plant and equipment with a verifiable profit stream or merely a big building with idle equipment. You don’t want the latter. And furthermore, you guys will need to invest some funds to ascertain these facts as well as get a contract drawn up and signed with the plant owner to give you exclusive rights to purchase the company for the time it will take you to find out whether or not this is a good investment. This is the way it’s done, so get used to it. There’s not simply going to be a handshake and a promise here. You’re getting into the area of high finance. There are lots of i’s to dot and t’s to cross. This may be the biggest financial decision you guys will ever make in your lives, so it is best to do it right. It’s called due diligence.”

  This caused the entire group to look to one another as if surprised at the news this would be something more than a good old boy handshake transaction.

  “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you guys. This is going to involve lawyers, accountants, and who knows what else to get this deal done, if we decide to go for it,” said their nominal leader, Jack Fletcher.

  The group mumbled among themselves before a serious looking younger man in his mid thirties spoke up.

  “What do you think, Will? What would you do?” he asked with deep concern in his expression.

  I hadn’t expected to be asked this question, so I had to think about it before I responded. “I would look very seriously at this opportunity, and I will tell you why. Real jobs, the jobs that allow the average worker to buy a decent home and provide a decent life for a family are becoming fewer and far between. Corporate America intends to buy and send every manufacturing function they can overseas in search for higher profits through lower wages. They have no conscience regarding the welfare of former employees who have dedicated their lives to building a good name for the manufacturer of a certain line of products. Neither your families nor the entire country’s long-term well being is of importance to them. As far as they are concerned, you can all die in a ditch. I know this sounds horrible, but it’s true. Don’t expect your government to do much of anything about it since both political parties are bought and paid for by corporate dollars. While the simple-minded voters of this country are incited to argue about abortion, gay rights, gay marriage, religion in the school systems, and every other non-economic political hot potato topic imaginable, large corporations are taking an ever larger portion of the total income derived from the sale of products and services once produced by the workers of this country. If this is a viable and profitable manufacturing facility, and you let it get away, you will most likely never have such an opportunity to make a decent living presented to you again. This country, in my opinion, is under attack by corporate interests that seek to maximize profits for an elite few by legally stealing your livelihoods.”

  I waited for someone to make a comment but not one of the committee said a word. My little rant about the sorry state of affairs relating to corporations running the show must have made some kind of impression upon the group. Finally, deciding I needed to move this suddenly bogged down work session along, I asked the group a few salient questions relating to what they proposed to do.

  “Do any of you know where the Dow is right at this moment?” No one said a thing. “No? Well, it’s almost down 3000 points from a high of over 14,000 just one year ago. I believe it is headed lower, very possibly, much lower. Do you know why?”

  Not one person responded. This surprised me because access to market information as well as opportunities to invest, was plentiful.

  “Let me tell you why I think the market has further to fall. First, the residential housing market might be headed for a freefall. Prices are down twenty to thirty percent from their year ago highs. Millions of owners are beginning to walk away from mortgages they never should have gotten involved with in the first place. They can’t afford the payments, and they never could. Large mortgage financiers are beginning to fail because of this collapse, and only yesterday, the federal government took control of Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac, the two largest mortgage insurance companies in the world. They are insolvent. It’s believed that additional financial institution failures are imminent. The entire financial system of this country is under attack at this very moment, and millions of investors are trying to run for cover. They are locking in their losses and hoping to salvage what few dollars they have left.”

  “You have just told me you are worried about investing your 401k dollars in a manufacturing facility, and you should be. But don’t think the markets are going to simply turn around and head back up, or if they do, that they will not ultimately crash again. This country is in for a big correction regarding how we go about managing our financial lives. In my opinion, we have enjoyed a standard of living most of the world has never known, or will ever know. But that’s about to end. Many other countries now want to enjoy that same lifestyle we have enjoyed, and they are positioning themselves to try to do just that. We, on the other hand, have allowed the greater part of the manufacturing base that provided the foundation for our comfortable middle class lifestyles to be shipped abroad where workers will do the same jobs for mere pennies on the dollar. Ask yourselves where you will work in the future if this opportunity gets away? You won’t work around here unless you farm, fix cars, paint houses, or perform some menial labor. If you do any of those jobs you will do them without the benefits you have grown accustomed to. For years, the know-it-alls have been assuring us that we are naturally moving away from a country that manufactures things to a country where we manage the world’s financial affairs. Well, that’s bullshit! That highly touted financial industry has just failed or moved to Hong Kong or Shanghai along with our manufacturing jobs. So while I encourage you to investigate this opportunity thoroughly before you decide, I would ask you to ask yourselves, whom do you want managing your savings in the future, yourselves as workers protecting your stake in a viable company you have ownership in or the same greedy financiers who have driven the good ship USA on to a rock?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven