People Surprise Me

Have you ever lived alongside someone for years but not really known them? Then one day, like a crack of thunder, something in the universe shifts, and—surprise! You discover a depth that you never knew existed before?

I’ve lived in Fillmore for over twenty years and only recently have I made a concerted effort to get to know more people. In the early years, I was busy taking care of the babies I was bringing into the world and, at the same time, apparently sending out free vittles signals to every critter in the country.

About three years ago, to spice up our lives, I invited a group of ladies over for tea and heard stories of how the town used to be. I discovered a hidden history. Who would’ve guessed Fillmorians held Friday a raffle, sported their own theater, and kept two grocery stores hopping?

I even attended a couple of meetings of the historical society and bought postcards of “Historical Fillmore.” A far more bustling world then but still within living memory of many of these folks.

Last year, I was invited to become an election judge. Having no idea what that involved, I said, “Sure. I can help out.” Civic duty called. Election judge training was an eye-opener. I. Had. No. Idea.

It’s like when a woman becomes a mother for the first time and realizes somewhere deep in the innermost part of her being that she has vastly underestimated the three-letter word “Mom” for much too long.

So I saw our republican government in a blinding new light. I was absolutely astonished at the reality of how many good-hearted, hard-working, detail-orientated people it takes to make this whole thing work.

Early this year, I was asked by a neighbor to take over the secretary-treasurer position at the Fillmore, Glendale Cemetery. First things first, I had to learn how to spell cemetery. Then I enjoyed the privilege of discovering how long and how well townsfolk have been caring for their deceased relatives’ graves. Other than being a backdrop for a horror flick or the place where deceased members of my family reside in quiet repose, I never gave any cemetery much thought.

How careless of me.

Cemeteries are run by people who care…and keep on caring. Making sure that the grass is mowed, flowers are prepared, paid for, and placed on the right grave. That families can find lost loved ones. That laws are followed and last intentions are carried out. That those who want to remember, grieve, or simply record someone’s last resting place can do so with dignity and in peace.

Quite frankly, I don’t know what I’ll learn about my small town next, but having glimpsed its deeper dimensions, I’ll keep my eyes open. After all, a town is made of people. And people surprise me.

Books by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

HeartBeats—Spiritual Being, Human Journey  https://amzn.to/2KvF3Ll

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd0z

Short Stories

It Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories https://amzn.to/2XXdDDz

Small Town Life

When I drive through small-town America, my heart responds to the sheer variety of life options. Mobile homes, well-kept trailers, two-story white farmhouses, ranch homes, horses grazing on a side lot of a tiny home, manicured lawns, garden beds adorned with huge metal roosters that beat all.

Even the cemetery speaks of loved ones long or recently departed. Tombstones of black granite, white stone, heart-shaped, tree styled, announce names, dates, and the final resting place of those who once occupied the various homes throughout town.

Business is limited here as there isn’t the infrastructure to feed a large number of main street stores. I figured that most everyone worked in a farming-related industry, but I’ve been surprised to discover a variety of employment options. People drive from various places or work online.

But why live here? I wondered.

Turns out there is a good reason. Family.

I have come to know several families in the area and discovered that though younger members may have found employment in another town or city, they frequently return home to visit.

Personally, I find that rather awesome. In a disconnected world, to discover three, even four generations still closely connected, rivals anything I could learn about my family on Ancestory.com. And then, there’s that cemetery. The one here in my town goes all the way back to the 1830s. Who needs an Internet search when great-great-grandpa is laid to rest next to great-great-grandma on Burg Road?

I’ve spent time with several of the elderly folks who have lived in town for most of their lives. They had children, and their children had children. And so it went. On birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, families gather for food, conversation, and support.

This feels a bit like peeking in on an alien world. A little enviously. Except now, the alien world has become my home.

Granted this little town isn’t as vibrant as it once was, and big-city problems plague people here too. But I’ve come to admire the tenacity of small-town life. Deep roots. Hard-working. Quiet and enduring.

Some people sneer at crumbling barns, closed storefronts, and population counts that would look more impressive if they included horses, house pets, and God’s glorious nature, but I’ve learned to look through the broken parts and be amazed by the spirit of those who came before.

To be honest, as I drive down Main Street to a meeting at the tiny municipal building, also known to host the morning’s Coffee & Gab gatherings, I feel honored to be a part of this world. Maybe someday, I’ll leave my mark behind—for those who come after.

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

HeartBeats—Spiritual Being, Human Journey https://amzn.to/2KvF3Ll

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd0z

Short Stories

It Might Have Been—And Other Short Storiehttps://amzn.to/2XXdDDz

Mirage-Reborn

Worldbuilding…Mirage-Reborn

Like an artery, Main Street pumped life into the small town and the surrounding farms. A red, brick building sat at a jaunty angle on the southwest corner of the four-way stop. Raised letters spelled out its inception: Mirage-Reborn Savings and Loan—Year One. The double, front doors swung inward on well-oiled hinges into an interior meant to inspire confidence. A steel, reinforced vault behind the main counter gleamed in assurance, practically winking at you from the glinting rays of light spilling through tall, rectangular windows.

Directly across the street on the south side, a forest-green, wooden, two-story structure boasted fancy lettering: Nelson’s Grocery—Your One-Stop-Shop. Nelson’s stocked everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to floral prints for your next dressmaking project. Though old man Nelson insisted that his daughter, Grace, stock more variety, it was already almost more than she could manage. Two other Main Street stores filled in the culinary gaps—Bud’s Butcher and a Fresh-from-the-Farm Dairy & Bakery outlet.

A filling station and a post office occupied the other two street corners, while the Sheriff’s Office halfway down the block, ensured the current population that not only was your money safe—you were too. Or you would be soon, once Abbas introduced their new sheriff at the Town Hall meeting.

Abbas, in his ancient wisdom, had cultivated changes in Mirage slowly. It had only been in the last year that he began referring to their world as Mirage-Reborn. Clearly, the population realized that something was afoot when he replaced their medieval styled hovels with sturdier, comfier, ranch-style houses. Like a proud papa, he took each citizen—and their assembled relatives—to their new abode and showed them a thousand Oldearth years worth of improvements in an hour. It was an accomplishment worthy of a god. The changes were accepted as divine ordinances—and darn nice ones too.

The Town Hall crowd jostled each other in friendly intimacy; after all, these people had lived together through enormous life changes. They gathered in expectation, chatting about the weather, crops, and the usual challenges of life, studiously avoiding any emphasis on the fact that their world had morphed from an Oldearth medieval village into a mid-twentieth century, American town. Would wonders never cease?

Omega had transported each of them—or their parents—to Mirage decades ago in response to a particular need. After the demise of Oldearth, Luxonians had been humanity’s only hope, but occasionally, humans did not conform well to life on planet Lux. The adventurous ones struck out on their own and settled on outposts. Sometimes successfully. Sometimes disastrously. When Omega learned of a human in extreme need, he would swoop in, and, like a hero of old, save the innocent—and not so innocent—from certain destruction. Each new arrival’s adjustment to medieval Oldearth society put everyone on equal footing.

After Omega’s mother died, he, too, disappeared, so Abbas took up the mantle and played the combined roles of demi-god and sheriff-in-residence. Most inhabitants accepted these changes with a shrug of laconic indifference. There was nothing written in stone saying you couldn’t jump a millennium or two every now and again.

Since his wife had died and Omega had left, Abbas busied himself with the town. He liked to appear suddenly, surprising the marketing crowd or lend a hand at a barn raising. He never appeared out of humor or out of breath, and he was welcomed everywhere he went.

As the crowd gathered in happy chatter, Abbas suddenly appeared in the front of the hall with two men, one on either side. On his left, a blond, slim man with striking blue eyes squared his shoulders and crossed his arms as he appeared to appraise the crowd in a critical, sweeping glance. A thicker and heavier, dark headed man on the right merely stood with his muscled arms at his side, gazing ahead like a crime suspect in a lineup.

Abbas raised his arms, and the room fell silent. “My friends, I bring you two new citizens of Mirage-Reborn. I know you will welcome them as I have welcomed you in times past.” He waved to his left. “Mr. Jeremy Quinn has served many, faithful years as a Bothmal guard, but now he has agreed to serve as our Sheriff and Director of Criminal Justice.”

Murmurs from the crowd stirred the air at the word Bothmal.

“Did he say Bothmal? As in the Inter-alien-prison?”

“Hellhole, I was told. No good can ever come of that place.”

Quinn’s eyes scoured the assembly, stopping at dissatisfied frowns and hovering over fear-filled eyes.

Abbas waved the murmurs away, nodded to his right, and his tight smile softened. “And here, I have brought you a treasure in Lucius Pollex, a man of renowned physical strength and the best blacksmith this side of the Divide. In him, you will discover both a hard worker and a faithful friend.”

Relief warred with anxiety in the crowd’s eyes as they shifted from Quinn to Pollex and back to Quinn.

“I have arranged a simple repast, so join me with our new friends at the cafe, and let’s get to know each other better.”

Abbas opened his arms as if in benediction, and the crowd parted with respectful nods and clasped hands. Like a wave washing over the shore, the entire population turned and followed their leader through the door.

Only Vera Webb, a petite, black-haired woman with high cheekbones, piercing black eyes, and ridges along her neck stood to the side and saw the exchange between the newcomers.

Lucius Pollex merely nodded with a hint of a warning in his eyes, but Quinn poured the malice of eons into his gaze as he glared at the blacksmith.

Vera shivered.

~~~

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00