4. Just Undeveloped Land
Library Period
“Is it possible?” asked Joseph. The thought that they may have stumbled onto a way to stop the solar farm seemed too much to hope for.
Dinah and Claire looked at each other and then back at Joseph. “How do we find out?” asked Claire.
“Let’s start with the diary,” said Dinah, for the first time placing herself into events occurring outside of Chloe’s small world.
“So another field trip, but to the library this time,” stated Joseph.
Joseph was surprised when Claire said, “Why don’t you two go? Chloe seems pretty peaceful, and she has just been fed.”
Dinah started to protest, but stopped before any words came out. Then she nodded and said, “It will be good to get out.” Laughing, she added, “The last time I left the house I had a baby. And the Celica probably needs a good drive anyway.”
It was only 11:00, so Dinah and Joseph decided to go to the library in Smithfield and return to the house for a late lunch.
Walking toward the Celica with Dinah, Joseph remarked that it was in great shape for an older model.
“It was my brother’s,” Dinah responded. “He has worked on it since he was old enough to drive. College didn’t allow freshmen to have cars, so it came to me. He hasn’t wanted it back yet.”
As she got in the driver’s side, she said thoughtfully, “I think I need something more sensible, like maybe a Honda Accord.” She put the key in the ignition, and the engine leapt to life.
Backing around for a three point turn, she added, “Definitely not an SUV, though. I’m NOT ready for that.”
And thus she defines her current stage in life.
Things change. And the person. And the car needs to change. And probably a bunch of other things.
Dinah pulled out onto the two lane highway, turning left toward New Deal.
She turned off the radio as a C&W singer was in the midst of a Somebody Done Somebody Wrong song.
Silence.
Not all bad, but it was not the easy silence like when your parents didn’t need to say anything, or your friend didn’t need to say anything, because talk just wasn’t necessary. It was a shared experience, even if you weren’t thinking the same things or looking at the same things.
They were already past the scarecrow, and then they were on the other end of New Deal and Jerry’s place on the edge of the New Used Cars passed by.
Silence.
Here goes.
He opened his mouth to speak, not yet sure what would come out, but Dinah said, “Yeah. That’s it. A lot of things need to change.”
“What would you change first?”
He immediately regretted the question because his first thought was “diapers,” but he hoped she would go on to whatever the second thought was.
Silence.
But this was OK. He knew she was here with him now and thinking, so the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I’m Chloe’s mom, so that is already a big change. And that is good. I actually like it.”
“You appear to be very good at it,” volunteered Joseph.
Silence.
Corn Maize came into view. It took a little longer to pass through the business section than in New Deal.
“But I’m still Dinah Jacobs, and I need – want- a life that includes that role but is larger than that.”
Joseph did not believe a response was necessary, but maybe just some encouragement….
“That sounds very reasonable. Mothers are people, too.”
“Yes, we are.” Dinah, the 17 year old, was speaking now.
The place where Dinah had pulled to the side of the road and delivered Chloe was just ahead on the right. Joseph saw Dinah looking at it.
“I wonder if I can ever go past this spot and not think about that day,” she said.
Joseph had the same thought.
“I am so grateful you were there, Joseph. I don’t know any of the guys at school who could have been as encouraging, as positive, as…non-judgmental.”
Silence.
He was uncomfortable but could not think of anything to say that sounded genuine.
“But when you came to the house and I thought you were just there to write a newspaper article about it, I was crushed. I didn’t really hear your explanation that the article was going to be written by someone, that it was just a matter of who wrote it. I just cried, feeling sorry for myself.”
Silence.
Smithfield was coming into view. And getting nearer.
“And then I read the article and I cried again, but this time because the same story could be told in such a beautiful way.”
The first traffic light turned red and they came to a stop.
“I don’t have any friends. And maybe that is OK at the moment. I have another priority.”
The abruptness of her statement made it all the more significant.
“What about all the friends you had at school. You really had a lot of people around you all the time, it seemed.” He regretted saying it even as the words were coming out because he knew what her response would be.
“And what do I have in common with them now, Joseph?” She looked at him, tears starting to fall. “It’s like there is a wall between us, or maybe it’s just an empty space with no common ground.
“What are you doing these days, Dinah?’ she mimicked. And I tell them what is going on with Chloe and how even at less than 2 weeks that she has changed so much.”
The light had turned green and she was moving forward toward the next light where they would turn toward the library lot.
“’And what have you been doing?’ I would ask. And I would hear the gossip about who is dating and who has broken up, and about who is saying what, and…. I really don’t care. We live in different worlds!”
She pulled into a parking place. “I feel like I’m already an adult, but I don’t know who I, Dinah Jacobs am…or want to be.”
Both of her hands remained on the wheel, the car still running.
“I know it’s not the same thing, but it is like I passed over a line that day on the side of the road, too,” said Joseph. “The things I had done the year before, even the week before, had seemed natural and right. But after that, the games, the social media, just messing around, even thinking about going to school, all that stuff, just seems like…well, just distractions. It seems like there are more important things.”
She was wiping her tears with her sleeves. It was only then that he realized that she had not been wearing makeup like she used to at school. Her shirt sleeve would have been a mess.
“Is that what it is like when we become adults?” She was trying to laugh through the tears.
“I think for most people it is a process, something that happens over time. Your mom said something interesting the other day, that adults are mostly stuck emotionally somewhere between the ages of 2 and 17. I thought grown-ups were grown up, but after what she said, I see how a lot of the way people act comes from that. They just manage it on the surface better.”
“So how old are we now?”
Thoughts raced through his mind at the speed of light until finally one stuck. “Right now? We are in this moment, aren’t we? You are 17, and I am 18, trying to figure out how to get to 18 and 19. And what gets us there is just a string of moments, each one a ‘now,’ leading us forward.”
When Joseph thought about what he had just said, it sounded pretty good. He needed to remember that.
“A year ago, I would have thought that was a bunch of bull that made no sense. But I get it now. ‘Now,’” she laughed, again wiping away a tear.
He smiled. “Well, maybe now is the time to go inside and see what we can find out about the Grit Bush.”
She nodded and turned off the engine.
They stepped into the brightness, humidity, and heat of the day, moments later entering the dark, dry, and cool of the library.
She led him to the Alabama area of the reference section. A few moments were required to find a three ring binder labelled, “Diary of Ella B. Mayes.”
Joseph pulled it out and they went to sit at one of the tables and look through it.
Dinah remembered a bit about the book and turned through the last third of the book. Turning quickly through the pages, she stopped at the drawing of the Grit Bush.
The drawing was at the bottom of a page, its lines standing in dark contrast to the faint handwriting above it. The students who put together the book were allowed to type up the handwritten portion, then use a copier to get the relatively few pages with drawings.
“Let’s get a photocopy,” said Dinah, picking up the binder and heading toward the copy machine.
Joseph checked his pockets, but all he had were two twenties and a ten from Mr. Franklin, no change or ones. Dinah pulled the quarters from her pocket book and made a copy of the page with the picture. She also made a copy of the typed page that had some of Ella’s comments on the picture.
“Mission accomplished?” asked Joseph, taking the book from her as they headed toward its shelf.
“Almost.”
He put the binder back on the shelf and she led to the checkout/information desk.
“Do you have any books on the Grit Bush?” she asked the woman seated behind the counter.
The woman had seen them come from the Reference section and almost laughed out loud. “Not that I know of, not even in the Fiction section.”
“Thanks,” smiled Dinah and they headed back to the car.
The car was sweltering hot in the noonday sun. The A/C blew hot air at them as they buckled up and Dinah pulled out of the lot.
Joseph was comparing the sketch with his pictures, scrolling through the few he had of the white crowned plant. “Yeah, they really do look like the same plant.”
Within a couple of minutes, the air was dry and cool, and Smithfield was fading out of the rear view mirrors as they traced the route backward toward Corn Maize.
“A year ago, would you have written about the scarecrow?” Dinah asked, referring to the articles that Joseph had described.
“No, I am sure I would not have taken notice of the scarecrow, or of Jerry. I wouldn’t have been there to meet Gil, or get to visit The Community. If all of those things had happened a year ago, they would have had no relevance to my world.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Dinah said. “We wouldn’t care about Eagles Nest or the solar panel farm. We wouldn’t be finding out that maybe the Grit Bush was real.”
“It’s all about timing, isn’t it? Do you wonder what we did miss last year?” he asked.
“Like you said, we’re in the now. So I’m not going to worry about the ‘might have beens.’”
“Good thought,” he agreed. “What we can do in the here and now needs to be our focus.”
He read aloud the few sentences about the Grit Bush.
“’The Grit Bushes only grow Wild, now. The Stems are covered in Thorns, and they produce few Grits. But the Old Ones say there were once Fields of them, planted and cared for. In those days, the Stems had no Thorns, and the Heads were full of Grits.
“’The motto of the Free State was, ‘Love of God and Mankind and the Grit Bush.’ It seemed to encompass all of Nature and all of the World. And Life was Good.’
“She sure capitalized a lot. What was the ‘Free State?’ And why was something as plain as grits so important?”
Dinah slowed as they reached the lower speed limit of Corn Maize. Fields had given way to houses from different time periods, distancing themselves from the road with lots of green space. Ahead were the structures of the town, planted along crisscrossed rows of concrete.
Joseph imagined the dirt roads of 180 years ago. There would have been a few homes, standing like sentries on the edge of the wilderness, widely scattered around a small cluster of wood frame buildings. It had been like an outpost in nature, the beachhead of civilization.
Now he understood the emphasis in history classes on the westward advance of civilization. He could see the Romans going into the wilds of France and Germany, fighting tribes who hunted and gathered rather than created empires.
And so it had been as the Europeans crossed the ocean that had sheltered the natives of the Americas, the barrier that had kept them one with nature and apart from the civilizing influence of Europe.
This place, Choctaloosa County, also had once been what the civilized world would have called a place of darkness. And yet it would have been the place most like the Garden of Genesis. He felt alternating shivers of wonder and dismay, as he became aware of what he was seeing as they passed through Corn Maize.
The gas station, advertising the price of gas and a special on bags of corn chips; Buena Vida Hair Salon; Wynn Independent Insurance Agency; Avo’s Tea Room; Tide and Tiger Tire and Auto; and on and on, more concrete, more walls.
He was relieved when Dinah interrupted his thoughts.
“Mom has been helping me to keep up with my schoolwork. I’m not actually in school, but sometime I have to go back. Or I have been thinking about just getting my GED, going through the textbooks on my own and just taking the tests.
“She insisted that one of the courses be the words in red, you know, what Jesus said in the Gospels. At first, I thought that was pretty lame. It had nothing to do with the GED, and I didn’t know how that kind of judgment was going to help me.
“Since I was off of social media and pretty much a recluse, it was like my time in the wilderness. And I began to actually understand some of what Jesus was saying. He didn’t judge. He said to quit looking at what people were doing and to look at what God’s intention had been from the beginning.
“Maybe that’s what the Old Ones she is talking about had found. It is all about loving the Creator and the people and the things He had created.”
Joseph told her what he had been thinking about civilization’s advance into nature. “Do you think that is what the Old Ones had discovered on the edge of the frontier, that life was just that simple, to love God and Mankind and all of Nature?”
They were riding in the space between Corn Maize and New Deal now. There were woods alternating with large fields. Houses and trailers insinuated themselves into the rustic picture, along with bits of trash, the occasional rusted car, and the odd billboard.
“And how do we do that here and now?” he added. He did not know all that much about the Bible and Jesus as he thought about it. Sure, he had heard a lot at church, but it always seemed like another time and place, like most of it was not relevant today and was hard to understand.
Silence.
Still focused on the road, Dinah spoke. “I cannot tell you the answer to that. But when I think about having Chloe born in a car on the side of the road with the help of somebody I hardly knew, it makes me think of the story of the Good Samaritan.
“I looked back at where Mom and I had studied that. Samaritans did not believe in God the same way the Jews did. The Samaritans and Jews were not really enemies who fought each other, but they did not hang around together, either. And yet there was a Samaritan who stopped to help a wounded Jew on the side of the road. And he made sure the injured person was looked after and cared for.
“We didn’t really know each other, and my friends were not your friends. You helped me on the side of the road, and you came back and helped later by protecting me from being the subject of a newspaper article.”
Silence.
“You showed that the Good Samaritan story still happens.”
She took her eyes off the road briefly and locked eyes with him for a moment, then focused again on the road ahead.
“That means a lot, Joseph. It also makes me think of Jesus and the Samaritan woman. Mom talked to me about that one a lot while we were waiting for Chloe to come. That woman was changed. And she became a disciple and brought the men of the city to Jesus.”
Joseph looked back out the window, thinking of when he had seen her car on the side of the road. He had seen someone in trouble and had stopped. Other cars had not stopped. On any given day, he might not have tried to see who was in the car and just gone on, oblivious to the miracle that was happening in the front seat of a sporty red car.
He really could not explain why it had all happened as it did. Maybe that is part of the definition of a miracle, that it is unexplainable.
“Can we make that sort of thing happen more? It’s not like I planned to do anything when I left home. It just happened.”
“Events happen, but it’s because people make them happen.” She paused, and added, “And we get pollution and climate change, too. That’s what I have been thinking about Eagles Nest and the solar panel farm. It’s like we are inching farther and farther away from the world as it was made.
“But then how would we live without electricity and running water and cars, and all of the other things that make life so much easier? That’s the other side of it and I don’t know how to bring those two things into balance.”
The Buck Ten Variety at the edge of New Deal loomed on the right, a garish reminder of civilization. It used to be a Dollar Variety store, but inflation had hit.
The New Used Cars lot was on the left, an array of cars poised to leap out onto the highway.
And farther ahead were Eagles Nest, the future solar panel farm, and The Community. The Community’s vision of itself at its beginning must have been much different than the present moment.
From his visit a few years ago on the school field trip and the recent visit with Gil, he did not think they would have envisioned their present condition. They had come to reconnect with nature, to start an Eden, an old way of life, in a new world. And now they found themselves front and center in the new world, being swept forward by “progress.”
Was that what it was all about, moving back to a simpler time? But if it were simple, would the need to work 24/7 just to have food and shelter make it better in some way? Something was missing.
“In your study, was Jesus trying to move the Jews backward in time?” Joseph asked.
“I thought that, too, but Mom said that wasn’t it. It was just about staying in relationship with God as you moved forward, and that also meant staying in relationship with the people and the world that He had created.”
They were through New Deal now. As they went over the small rise in the road, he looked to the left and saw Dorothy still guarding her field. All he could see was her head, but he also remembered her arms outstretched as a prelude to an embrace, ready to accept all.
“And that is what the Good Samaritan was doing. He was bringing a little piece of heaven down to earth.”
They were soon pulling into Dinah’s driveway. Now it’s Dinah’s, not Claire’s?
His bike still leaned against the tree in the cool of the shade, no doubt appreciative of not having to make the long journey (in bike miles) to Smithfield and back.
Joseph had a weird feeling of arriving at home. Even weirder was the fragrance of Dinah as he held open the front door and she walked by him. There was no perfume, and nothing unpleasant, just her.
Stepping inside, the smell of hotdogs and baby, more or less in that order, took over. He was hungry. And thirsty.
Claire had prepared lunch, so they were soon seated at the table with two hot dogs and chips for Joseph, a bun-less hot dog and salad for Dinah, and a salad for Claire. Chloe must have smelled the food and decided she needed to join the party, so she gave notice of her intent.
Dinah held the baby again while she ate. Chloe seemed content just to be a part of the gathering.
First was the library report and a sharing of the two documents with Claire. Then the discussion of what to do next.
Claire stated the obvious: “If we have a species of plant that is thought to be extinct or to never have existed, we have something to keep them from developing the land.”
“So it would seem,” agreed Joseph. He felt like there was something larger involved, but he could not find the words for it.
“But how do we make it known and have the project stopped?” asked Dinah.
Joseph suggested they get Gil involved, and he pulled out his cell phone.
Gil answered in his official voice and Joseph identified himself, put the phone on speaker, and explained what had happened.
“That sounds very promising, Joseph. Why don’t you and I go take a look at those plants, maybe dig one up tomorrow? Meet you there about 8:00 in the morning? I’ve got a client in a little while, and then a late afternoon appointment up in Smithfield, or I would say do it now.”
‘OK,” said Joseph. “I’ll see if I can use the car tomorrow.”
“Never mind that,” said Gil. “I’ll just come to your place at 8:00.”
Agreeing, Joseph hung up. “Well, you heard, so that is our next step, I guess. Do you want to go, too?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
The women declined. Claire said, “Just keep us informed of what you find.”
Joseph agreed to do so.
He suddenly found that he had no other reason to stay there. Chloe was awake and peaceful in her mother’s arm. It was suddenly very quiet.
“Well.” He said, getting up. “Thank you for lunch, Claire. And thanks for going with me to the library, Dinah.”
After their “You’re welcome,” responses, Joseph concluded, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He went outside and retrieved his bike. He wished he had a car. He would just go get one of the bushes now. But it would be very awkward to try to hold one while riding his bike on the highway.
‘Tomorrow is another day,’ said Scarlett O’Hara. And so he proceeded home.
The discovery of what might well be a Grit Bush made for a lively discussion at dinner that night. Joseph’s dad suggested that he get a sample to someone who could get an official finding on the plant in scientific terms. He wrote down a name, number, and the office address for Joseph to contact at the Auburn Museum of Natural History.
Field Trip #2
The next morning, Friday, Joseph went outside to wait for Gil.
The paper was already in the yard and he eagerly opened it. “Wisdom from a Scarecrow” began on Page 1. It continued on Page 4. An article establishing a scarecrow contest for the families of Choctaloosa County was on the same page. Mr. Franklin had placed a picture from Dorothy’s good side beside it.
The ad for Don’s Hardware was on Page 6 along with the article Joseph had written describing the business. It all looked pretty good.
Gil arrived and Joseph tossed the paper onto the porch and got into the front passenger seat. They discussed getting the plant and getting out quickly. Joseph mentioned the contact name his father had given him to determine officially what plant they had discovered.
It occurred to Joseph that Gil seemed to have a lot of free time.
“Gil, if you don’t mind me asking, you seem to have a lot of free time. How do you make a living here in Choctaloosa County? You seem to mostly help people who don’t have a lot of money.”
“I don’t mind at all, Joseph,” said Gil, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “You see, I am retired and I have a little money.”
“You seem to have retired pretty young. Did you invent something or what did you do to make your money?”
That’s it! Find the secret to financial success!
“In college, I met a lot of the right people. And I worked in the financial world, you know, one of the big brokerage firms that’s tied in with the big banks.
“I seemed to have a knack for picking the right stocks. But the tech boom helped to make it look easy. The real secret was identifying which ones were going to implode instead of explode. You have to look at the character – or lack thereof – of the principals running the business.
“The principles of the principals!” Joseph could see that the financial adviser could literally not keep from laughing.
“When you saw what a Bill Gates or a Mark Zuckerburg did to get started, you could feel the ruthlessness that made them comparable to the industrial tycoons of the late 19th century. I knew history and that it was about to repeat itself.
“So I put my money on the right horses, and advised my clients to do so. And the more the right horses won, the more advantages they were given on the track.”
“You sound like you were a long way from Choctaloosa County. How did you end up here?”
“Well, I felt I had outgrown Chicago and went to New York. And that is where I hooked up with BlackRock Financial. And I just made more money.
“Anyway, having made a bundle and seeing what was happening, I decided to redeem myself by teaching people how to live as free as possible from the tyranny of this system.”
“What do you teach them?”
“Look at the situation now. The government lockdowns forced thousands of small to medium businesses to close. The financial payments to millions of people out of work were so high that the businesses who survived are having trouble finding workers.
“These actions are basically destroying the middle class, making more people dependent on the government. The more the government controls paychecks, the more they control people, that is, limit freedom.
"So I encourage people to pay with cash, support their local businesses and banks, and keep money flowing in Choctaloosa County.
"Now look at the way the Fed (i.e., private banks) printed all that stimulus money for COVID and where did it go? Look at the high stock prices. Stocks have become over-valued compared to what they can earn for the investor here in the middle of 2021. So where so you put your money? Gold? Bitcoin? How about land?
“Think about it: how much new land is there going to be?”
Joseph shrugged. “There is no new land on earth. What we have now is all there will ever be.”
“Exactly! And that is where inflation went: higher prices for investments and land.”
“Invest in land, particularly arable land that can produce food, and you have two of the best three investments that you can have. There will be no new land and everybody needs food. When you grow your own food, you can have assurance of quality as well as supply.
“Keep some investment in tech stocks if you have the money. Then you’ve got three sure fire winners land, food, and tech. As tech and medicine merge, they will become larger together than the two were when separate.
“We’ll talk more when we have the time,” he said as they saw the Eagles Nest entrance on the left. Their destination was just ahead on the right.
But when they arrived at what had been a deserted construction site the day before, the construction equipment was all in motion, plumes of dust creating low clouds in the sunny morning air.
A crew of two men were putting up posts and attaching an orange plastic web fencing to them. They were halfway from the edge of the property to where Gil had pulled the Jeep Cherokee onto the dirt entrance road. One of the men headed their way.
As he neared, the construction man said a hearty, “Good mornin’, fellas. What can I do for you?” He wore the traditional hard hat and safety vest over his blue jeans and plaid shirt. His tone was the opposite of the man that Joseph and Claire had encountered the day before.
Gil replied, “Yesterday this was just grass, bushes, and trees like the rest of this highway. Today it looks like the hub of a major construction site. What are you building? What will this place be?”
“Oh, we’re just site preparation. We’ve got drawings of how they want the land laid out, and that’s all we do. But, yeah, it looks like quite a project!”
“Just seems like they’re in a hurry. Nobody was here yesterday and now look at all this!”
The construction man laughed. “Yeah, it worked out great for us. My crew out there get to work as long as there is daylight, overtime and all.”
“I was kinda hoping we could get a few plants I’d seen over near the tree line,” Gil said, pointing in the direction Joseph said the Grit Bushes were located.
“Ah, afraid I can’t let you do that. Now that we got the machines going, they’d shoot me for letting someone onto the land we’re working. You might get bull-dozed, graded, or chipped, or all three. Besides, we’re adding the No Trespassing signs when we get this fence up.
“My name’s Harvey, by the way.” He took off a glove and extended his right hand.
“I’m Gil, and this is Joseph,” Gil replied, shaking the hand offered.
“I gotta help Bill get this fence put up. Sorry we can’t help you. Hope you have a good day.” Harvey gave a slight tip of his hat and put his glove back on, effectively dismissing them.
“Yeah, you too, Harvey,” replied Gil.
Harvey didn’t move, clearly waiting for them to leave. Gil and Joseph got back in the Bronco.
A Glimmer of Hope
“And now what?” asked Joseph as he buckled the seat belt.
Gil paused for a moment. “From the looks of things, we need a Temporary Restraining Order to block what is happening here as soon as possible. If those bushes are destroyed, it will be difficult to prove they existed just from the cell phone pictures. And if they are gone, there is nothing here to protect.
”Of course, a Preliminary Injunction will also be filed, but that takes time and they can continue to work during the process. The TRO will protect the Grit Bushes until we can get the Temporary Injunction made permanent.
He had already pulled out onto the highway, headed toward The Community. “Let’s see if their lawyer up here can get something done.”
While Gil drove, Joseph called the number in Gil’s phone for Nate Johnson at The Community. He explained the situation and got the number of their resident lawyer, Charles Mason.
“I’ve met Charles,” said Gil. “Let me talk when you get him on the line.”
Joseph called the number given and handed the phone to Gil.
After a brief reminder of who he was, Gil said, “We’re passing through The Community entrance now. Would you give me your address so we can explain in person what we need done urgently to try to block the solar farm construction?”
Gil listened to the directions, making a turn off the paved main road onto a dirt road. Two more turns brought them to a log cabin, their destination.
Charles was outside, waiting for them. Probably around 40, he sported a blonde ponytail and trimmed beard. He was dressed in the business casual of the community, jeans and a tee shirt, black in his case.
Joseph was introduced and they went inside. The living room was to the left, a kitchen to the right, and the area between contained a table and chairs for eating or, as the pile of boxes attested, playing games with the kids. Bedrooms and baths were beyond the far wall.
The living room had padded wooden chairs, quite comfortable as Joseph selected one. He noticed that two were a little shorter. “My wife is rather short and hates it when her feet don’t reach the floor, so we made a couple of the chairs for the vertically challenged folks,” Charles said with a smile.
Gil explained the situation with Joseph filling in the details, including their slim amount of evidence: cell phone pictures and the two photocopies from the Ella B. Mayes diary.
“That’s it?” asked Charles.
“We would have brought one of the plants, but as I mentioned, we’re not allowed on the property. But based on what we have and on what Joseph and Claire Jacobs saw, we may have a real discovery here. And if the construction crews destroy the bushes, our only solid evidence, we have no case and they proceed with the construction.”
“I know the county judge pretty well,” said Charles, “and in a good way,” he added.
“When The Community first arrived, things were a little tense with law enforcement. The founders set up two policies that helped to alleviate the tension.
“Teenagers for a couple hundred miles around heard of the hippie commune that had arrived, and there were quite a few runaways who showed up here. The first rule was that they had to call their parents and assure the parents they were OK.
“The second rule was that anyone charged with a crime would be turned over to the sheriff’s office. No exceptions. After those policies were put into effect and the officers saw we were on their side, we really became more like allies. They trusted us to handle things the right way.
“When I took over about ten years ago, things were running smoothly and I’ve tried to keep it that way.
“Tell you what, help me draft a petition for a Temporary Restraining Order and I’ll get it to Judge William St. John.”
They worked together on the petition for a couple of hours. Joseph texted the pictures and Charles added them to the petition.
When the document was finished, Charles said, “The request asks for a ten day TRO to allow time to verify the plant is rare and only known to exist in this location. It will be up to us to prove that, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
“We’ll file a Preliminary Injunction, which will call for a hearing and allow the other side to present their case, also. I’m also going to ask for a warrant to enter the property immediately and secure a sample bush.
“Let me see if I can track down the judge.” He opened his contacts and punched the judge’s personal number.
Gil smiled. “That is a reassuring sign.” They listened to one side of a brief conversation, ending with Charles saying, “I’ll see you there at 10:00 tomorrow.”
Charles said, “The judge will look at the petition at 10:00 in the morning. Yeah, on Saturday. He’s booked up this afternoon but will meet me after an early round of golf. Keep your fingers crossed.”
“When we get the bush and it is verified as the legendary Grit Bush, how long does it take to get protected?” asked Joseph.
“Way too long. The EPA has up to 90 days to determine if protection may be warranted and up to another year to decide that protection is or is not warranted. That’s why there will be a Preliminary Injunction to givr us the necessary time. Nad we’ll have to keep the situation monitored at all times. It won’t be an easy process.”
After being assured that Charles would call as soon as he had a ruling one way or another, Gil and Joseph left.
Walking back to Gil’s Jeep, Joseph thought of calling Claire and Dinah, but then he had a better idea.
“Gil, If Claire is available and wants an update, do you have time to stop at her house?”
“Sure. Give her a call.”
Joseph hit her home number. Dinah picked up on the home phone almost immediately. After calling down the hall to her mom about their visit, she said it would be great for them to bring an update.
Fifteen minutes later they were at the front door. Claire opened the door and Joseph introduced Gil to her as she led them to the living room.
“Well?” she asked as she sat on the sofa.
Joseph had taken “his” chair and Gil hesitated between choosing the other chair at the far end of the sofa and sitting next to Claire. She patted the sofa seat and assured him that she did not bite.
His cheeks flushed a bit and Joseph had expected a snappy comeback and was surprised to see his mature and cultured friend at a bit of a loss.
“At least today we were run off in a friendly manner, unlike yesterday,” Joseph spoke into the silence.
At that moment, Dinah came in with Chloe cradled in one arm. Introductions were made and Chloe seemed content to listen rather than to participate in the discussion.
Joseph described the encounter with the man installing the fence while all of the heavy machinery was operating in the background.
Gil then summarized the appeal for a Temporary Restraining Order and that they would have to wait for Charles to tell them what the judge had decided.
He continued, “I had no idea that Samuel Jacobs had such a close tie to the area when he was negotiating with The Community for the Eagles Nest land.”
Claire nodded. “And I did not know until recently that he was involved. I probably would have tried to keep it from happening,” she laughed.
Gil’s phone rang. He looked at the screen. “It’s Nate,” he said, and put the phone to his ear.
After a short conversation, he hung up. “Bruce Denton, the Council Chairman at The Community, has called a meeting of the Council and all interested Community members for 4:00 tomorrow. He told Nate that you and I can attend as spectators, if we want to come.”
“Of course!” said Joseph.
“Good. We’ll head up there in time for the meeting. It’s lunch time. Does anyone want to go to Dell’s?”
“It will probably be busy and noisy. If you’re OK with sandwiches and chips or salad, we can eat here,” Claire offered.
Joseph knew she was trying to keep them here to allow Dinah some adult conversation.
Gil and Joseph agreed, so Claire excused herself to the kitchen.
As she passed Dinah, her daughter started to rise from the chair. Claire put her hand on Dinah’s shoulder, pushing her back down. “I’ll handle it. You and Chloe keep your seat and entertain our guests.”
Looking at Joseph and then Gil, she said, “I think a song and dance are not going to happen for entertainment. Joseph has mentioned your business, but would you tell me about it, Gil?”
With a sandwich and salad bar for lunch, and conversation about the events around The Community and its new neighbors, a couple of hours passed relatively quickly.
Gil drove Joseph home. “Not much else we can do until the TRO comes through, hopefully after Charles’ meeting with the judge tomorrow morning. Plan on me picking you up at 3:00 for The Community meeting. We can at least do that, and maybe find out how Charles did on the TRO.”
They parted company and Joseph went into his house.
The Community Council
Joseph heard nothing from Gil, so he was ready at 3:00 Saturday afternoon.
Gil was on time and they talked little on the drive. No news yet from Charles, and Gil was unsure what The Community Member meeting would bring forth.
There were few vehicles outside when they arrived, but many of the members would have walked. Inside, the meeting room was packed, standing room only at quarter to 4:00. They found a place to stand against the wall and waited, the atmosphere electric with anticipation and filled with conversations.
There was a section up front for the council members, and chairs behind them for the residents. Three chairs on a slightly raised platform in front were the only empty seats.
At 4:00, Bruce, Nate, and Faye Harte stepped onto the raised platform. Conversation died quickly as Bruce bypassed his chair and stepped up to the single microphone stand.
He cleared his throat and leaned toward the microphone.
“I know that everyone is anxious about news concerning the developments on the properties next to us. There will be some information on that in a moment. But first I want to make a statement that bears on what you will hear in a few moments.”
He cleared his throat again, clearly having difficulty with what he was about to read.
“The Community has faced many challenges since its inception over 40 years ago. A few of you have been through them all, learning through trial and error how to be an individual as part of a group, a part but of a whole.
“The generation that followed has had to learn in the same way, unfortunately, and I am of that generation.
“I come before you today in a state of humility.
“The Community’s precept of Right Living, which states that our interactions with the outside world always be consistent with our principles, has been central to our success.
“I strongly encouraged the alliance with outside interests to develop The Destination as a way to influence the outside world. By bringing influential people into our community, my hope was to change their perspective on nature, on people, on life. I did not know that their influence would be changing The Community instead of us changing them.
“I apologize to everyone in The Community for taking us down this road.
“The voices raised against the project were prophetic. I needed their help and would not admit the error of the path I promoted.
“I am eager to help us return to the core principle of Right Living. I will do this as a member of The Community, not as Chairman. I yield my position to Faye Harte, the Vice-Chairwoman.
“We must return to our roots, the principles that brought us here in the beginning and that hold us together now. We are here to serve and to protect one another, and to serve and protect the earth from which we came.
“It is the spirit of love that compels everything, and that must remain at the very core of our being, both as individuals and as a community.
“Faye wants and needs the same level of support and advice that was offered to me. Help to guide her and the council, and to support one another. The times ahead are uncertain, but in community we will make our way, as we have before, based on the principles of love of one another and of the earth that is home to us all.
"With fond regard for all, and respectfully yours, Bruce Denton.”
He folded the sheet of paper, switched off the microphone, and went toward the door through which he had just entered. He stopped before exiting and took a place along the wall with other residents.
There were a few claps from the audience as he left the stage, gradually increasing until most of the crowd stood and clapped in respect for their out-going chairman. That some remained seated showed the divisive nature of the events that had unfolded in recent months.
As the audience sat down and became quiet, Faye stood, speaking with a mic attached to her collar.
“We are all appreciative of the contributions that Bruce has made to The Community over the years. I accept the position as Chairwoman in accordance with the rules established in our by-laws. I do so only if I may have your assurance, not only of your support, but of your guidance as we make our way together into the future.
“We have endured many struggles through the years. This is one more. We will survive this one, also, as a community sharing the same ideals for how to live in harmony with nature and with each other.
“We will return to an effort to change the world from where we are instead of changing the world from where it is.
“You are aware of the Eagles Nest development on the 200 acres that we sold recently. You may be aware of the solar panel farm on the 300 acres across the highway from Eagles Nest.
“There has been a new development, and I will ask Nate Johnson, General Manager, and Charles Mason of our legal staff, to address this.”
Charles had joined them while Faye was speaking and had sat beside Nate.
What ensued was a ten minute talk by the two men outlining what had transpired. The sale of the land for Eagles Nest and the stipulations requiring the development of a green community had looked promising. Discovery of the plans for a solar panel farm looked promising in the beginning.
Then came the discovery that this project would be the only thing green about Eagles Nest. As with alternative power supplies in general, the benefits would be offset by lack of restraint on the demand side for power. This would violate the spirit of the transaction, but the fact that all was solar powered would fulfill the legal letter of the contract.
Charles gave the concluding comment.
“The last development is that Judge St. John has written a Temporary Restraining Order preventing further development of the solar panel farm on the 300 acres below our property for a period of one week. We were required to post a $5,000 bond.
“He has also issued an order allowing a designated team from The Community to collect samples of a suspected rare bush that would be added to the Endangered Species list if its existence at this location is proven. That discovery will initiate a further suspension of work until there is a ruling from the Environmental Protection Agency.
“The importance of this development cannot be overstated. Without the solar panel farm project, Eagles Nest most likely will be unable to meet its promises concerning the conservation efforts required in their contract. In that event, we would be able to sue to have the land sale reversed.
“We look forward to this resolution of the issue regarding the properties to our south.
“We will now open the floor for questions.”
Gil leaned over to Joseph. “I think this is our cue to leave.”
They walked back to the door through which they had entered. It seemed almost everyone had a question. The meeting could last for hours.
“Do I need to be there when they look for the Grit Bush to show them where it is?” Joseph asked as they emerged from the building.
“Most definitely. This wasn’t the time or place to bring up that fact. I’ll text Charles and Nate and ask them what time we should meet them there tomorrow.
”The sheriff’s office should deliver the TRO and stop work tonight, or at least first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll be in touch with you when we have a time established to dig up a Grit Bush or two.”
They stopped to give Claire and Dinah the good news on the TRO, and Gil delivered Joseph back to his home in Corn Maize. It was not quite 6:00 when Joseph arrived walked into the house.
“How was your day, dear?” asked his mother.
“It looks like there will be some dinner conversation,” he said as he went to wash up.
Hope Dimmed
A late night text from Gil alerted Joseph to a 7:00 trip to the solar panel farm to collect the Grit Bush samples. He would come about 6.30 to get Joseph.
That sounded like things were on track and Joseph set his alarm for 6:00 and slept well.
Next morning, Joseph went into the kitchen for a quick bowl of Cheerios and found his dad there making a cup of coffee.
“You’re up early for a Sunday morning!” his dad remarked.
“Gil is coming in a few minutes to take me up to the solar farm and get the Grit Bush samples. I should be back in time for church. I can’t imagine it taking very long.”
His father nodded and poured coffee into his cup.
Joseph fixed his bowl of cereal and ate quickly. They spoke only a little about the day and what was next.
Gil pulled in front of the house shortly after Joseph walked out on the porch. It was a pleasant enough morning. The rising sun was not yet hot but promised a scorcher. They talked little as they drove north to the construction site.
The plume of smoke was visible before they had left New Deal. A dark cloud hovered above their destination.
With some anxiety, they sped forward. When Gil finally turned into the area from which they had been turned away on Friday morning, the fence gate was open. They entered, headed toward the source of the cloud of smoke.
A huge pile of burnt brush was smoldering in the center of a barren field.
A low cloud cover had come from the southwest. The air now felt humid, heavy with smoke-filled dread. The sun was still low in the east, its rays slipping beneath the ominous skies overshadowing Choctaloosa County. It was only a matter of time before the clouds would dim this light.
The mechanical arsenal had retreated to its former position, standing at attention on wheels or treads, waiting to be called into action again.
The stands of trees were still in place, but all of the brush had been dozed into a long pile and set ablaze. The green brush had been cut and burned alive. The smoldering fire yielded more smoke than flame, hence the dark haze hovering in the area beneath the overcast sky.
Joseph directed Gil to drive along the tree line adjacent to The Community property, but all of the land had been dozed and the brush pushed into what now was charred sticks and ashes.
“There’s nothing here,” said Joseph, stating the obvious.
They had driven the length of the property and seen nothing helpful to their cause.
“It looks like they pretty well demolished the north side of the acreage. They knew what to destroy,” observed Gil.
A pickup entered the property from the highway. A few moments later, an older F150 4-door came to a stop on the passenger side of the Jeep. Nate, Charles, and Faye looked expectantly at Joseph.
He lowered his window. “They’re gone. The plants we saw have all been destroyed.” He pointed toward the smoldering remains back in the center.”
Gil leaned over and spoke through Joseph’s window. “Let’s do a ride around to see what’s here, then look more closely for any trace of the bush we’re looking for. Everybody has seen the picture right?”
All three in the second vehicle agreed.
“We’ll finish around the perimeter,” continued Gil. “You look around the islands of trees. We’ll meet back at the entrance and then we’ll walk it if we have not found anything.”
“Sounds like a plan,” affirmed Nate. The two vehicles went in different directions, meeting at the entrance shortly afterward.
All five got out of their vehicles at the entrance.
Faye asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Charles, what recourse do we have if we cannot find this bush?”
“We’re probably going to be up a creek without a paddle. I think the evidence that we provided will keep us from being liable in a suit for damages due to the delay, but just those pictures is pretty shaky for moving forward. We will lose our bond unless we find some solid proof.” Charles stood with his arms folded, facing the blackened brush.
He continued, “There must have been something along with the TRO describing what we were looking for. Or maybe a copy of the pictures. Or maybe somebody in the sheriff’s department tipped them off.”
“Did the clearing of this part of the field and the burning of these bushes occur after the TRO was delivered?” asked Nate.
“I don’t know how we would be able to prove that at this point,” replied Charles. “Let’s walk the land looking for any sign of that bush, even a root. If we split up, it won’t be too big a job.
They spread out, one along each edge of the field, looking across the boundary, as well. Two headed toward the stands of trees scattered along the middle part of the acreage. Nate drove to the other end and walked the back edge.
A fruitless and gritless hour and a half later, they were a discouraged group, again at the entrance to the property. Nate had planned ahead and had a bottled water for everyone.
Joseph leaned against the Cherokee and finished his water. The sky was now totally overcast. The fire still smoldered. It was hard to tell where the rising smoke ended and cloud began. The air was sticky.
Would it be too much to ask for a rain to wash everything away and start over?
“Surely there is evidence somewhere other than these photos that the Grit Bush still exists,” said Charles to no one in particular.
“Well, we have a week to find it,” said Nate.
“No,” corrected Charles. “We have a week to find it here.” His hand pointed down to the ground beneath their feet. “If the bush is anywhere else, the construction team is off the hook and can continue.”
It didn’t take long for that fact to sink into the mind of each individual standing there.
At that moment, a few big fat drops of rain splattered randomly about them and on a few of them.
The smaller raindrops had been waiting above, joining together into gangs before hurtling downward. The parched hot earth would have vaporized the tiny droplets, the larger ones sizzling before disappearing. But now, plump and heavy, they didn’t just land and vanish in steam. They transformed their landing pads into small warm marshes, island pools waiting for re-enforcements.
In response, the five became two as everyone ducked back into their vehicles. Aware of their victory, the heavy raindrops unleashed their reserves in a drenching downpour. The sound on the rooftops drowned out conversation. The denuded field around them was quickly turning into mud.
Nate signaled for Gil to follow and they headed back to the highway. Within a few minutes they were back at Nate’s office building. By then the rain had become a kinder, gentler, soaking rain.
Options…or Not
Entering The Community’s office building, they proceeded to what was now Faye’s office. Nate pulled one of the chairs from his office and the 5 of them discussed options.
Actually, no one had an option to offer.
Charles finally spoke. “This is a really long shot, so if you have any other ideas, let me know.
“I have pictures, and I’m sure you do, also. Everyone send me your pictures from this morning.
“Joseph, you have a picture of where you saw the Grit Bushes, but they were gone today, right.”
“Yes.”
“Send me those separately. Maybe the background plants on the tree line will make it clear that the bushes were there and are not there now.
“What we’ll try, if no one has a better idea, is to go for the seeds. Since the Grit Bushes were there, we need to give them a year to see if they produced seed and will come back next spring. There may even be ungerminated seed from last year.
“This is really a long shot, and a long shot is hardly even a strategy, but it’s all I see at the moment.”
Faye summarized. “So we have to argue that the possibility that seeds from a plant not proven to exist will produce Grit Bushes next year. We just have to hold up a project worth several hundred million dollars for that year, right?”
“Yeah. That sums it up pretty well.” Charles managed a smile. “I’ll do some research on how long seeds are viable in other plants of the maize family. I’m sure a certain percentage will germinate in the second year and even longer.
“Any other thoughts?”
Faye asked, “Are there any other grounds for blocking this project? Since Plan A appears weak, is there a Plan B that provides alternative grounds.”
“Maybe somebody else can help me out here, but these are the negatives of this project of which I am aware.”
Charles picked up a tablet on Faye’s desk and started writing bullet points.
“Although this solar project sounds big, it is relatively small scale compared to the truly large ones. I think the investors will continue to grow the size by acquiring more land. Consider that land adjacent to this solar farm is not going to be attractive for residential or retail use, and the return on a farm or ranch would be much less than the return on energy. Pricing will push more land into alternative energy sources like solar.”
He wrote, Depreciation of adjacent land value.
“Nationally, more and more land will be allocated to energy production. This will result in reduced area for food production and residential areas resulting in rising land prices.
Increased cost of land for other purposes, he wrote.
“As the available amount of land for farming decreases, and the value of that land rises, the cost of food and textiles will increase.”
Inflation of food and textile prices.
Beneath that he wrote, Decommissioning.
“Decommissioning the solar panels – which may occur in 20 to 40 years depending on who is talking – will leave toxic material to be disposed, the amount varying depending on who is speaking. We did not think through the decommissioning of nuclear plants or even how to handle the daily nuclear waste, and that is a tremendous problem now.”
Future value of toxic land, he wrote as he spoke, also will be affected by the accumulation of herbicides and insecticides used to keep nature from reclaiming the land. Whether there is other toxicity from the panels due to damage by storms, hail, tornadoes, etc., is also a possibility.”
Gil asked, “What about the transmission towers?”
Charles wrote, Transmission towers & right of way, saying, “Good point. A lot of land will be condemned for right of way.”
“Aesthetics, always an issue with industrial projects,” he said as he wrote the word.
And below that he wrote, Competition for land with plants and animals.
“There are probably a good many more issues. For example, the Chinese are the main source for solar panels. They are not averse to creating pollution or using forced labor for high volume technologies with an international market demand.
“Our problem, and the world’s problem, is that one solar farm in Alabama does not create enough of these effects to be judged significant. But the cumulative effect of solar, wind, and water as sources of energy generation are becoming significant. No one jurisdiction will take the view of what is happening to the planet as a whole.
”Meanwhile, energy production for increased consumption by industries and consumers will reduce the quality of life, especially for the poorest. Reducing these demands is at least equally important as supply issues.”
After a moment of silence as everyone absorbed the information, Faye observed, “That was a very enlightening exercise, Charles, but is there anything in there that will help us?”
“Yeah, that’s the point, isn’t it,” he stated, looking at the list.
Faye suggested a meeting of The Community Council to discuss options for moving forward. “I know a second meeting in as many days is unusual, but this is an unusual situation. We’ll just have the Council rather than the full membership like yesterday, so we can be more focused.”
There was general agreement with her suggestion since the small group appeared stuck at this point.
Nate whispered something to Gil.
Gil nodded and said to Joseph, “Why don’t we head back.”
As they walked to the car, Gil said, “I’ve got a meeting with a young couple in a little while, so I’ll just take you home unless there’s some other place you want to go.”
“Home is fine,” said Joseph. And it was.
As they drove the dozen or so miles to Corn Maize, Joseph observed the amount of land that appeared to be unused.
‘There is so much land unused in the county, Gil. Are we wrong to stop some of it from being put to productive use? I understand we need to be using energy more wisely, but does that mean we should produce less until we conserve more?”
Gil didn’t answer immediately. When he did, he sounded more like he was thinking out loud than giving a preconceived answer.
“I think the electric power coming out of the solar farm is a secondary issue. The primary issue is identifying what resources will be used and then if solar power is the best use of the resources.
“For example, nuclear plants can produce electric power. Quite a few were built, but you don’t see that happening now, even when additional sources of power are needed. The process of creating the power is expensive due to the need for radiation protection, dangerous when those protections fail, and the end result is not only power, but also a lot of radioactive waste for which we have no solution.
“The list of negatives for solar power has some similarity, but it is still too new for all of the negatives to be known. The costs are less obvious, less dramatic. Ironically, nuclear power was envisioned as almost free of charge. But then we learned the true costs, the reality that theory ignored.
“I think the general concern of The Community and many environmentalists is that no one is speaking up for nature. Nature cries out with the damage done by pollution, chemical farming, corporate animal feeding organizations, and such, but people are hard of hearing when it comes to that stuff.”
Joseph was puzzled. “But the effects of industrialization are often very obvious, like you mentioned with nuclear power. And there are the polluted lakes, rivers and ocean; the air pollution in cities even going out into the countryside; the rise in obesity; plastics that won’t degrade, and those are just a few things that I even know about. Why is it so hard to see what is right before our eyes?”
“Think about it,” said Gil. “If a person’s paycheck depends on not seeing the truth, they’re usually going to look the other way.”
Now that is a chilling thought!
Joseph began to see what he meant.
Gil continued after a pause. “Think about illegal drug pushers. They know what they’re doing to their buyers. Now think about the people who pushed prescription painkillers, often similar if not identical to the illegal version. Didn’t they know what they were doing?
“And then they argue that where there is a demand, someone will be there with a supply. So it’s one of those cycles where the blame goes both ways, the customer and the seller.”
“So environmental issues are like that, too, huh?”
“Plastic sure is handy for a lot of applications,” agreed Gil. “But who is going to be the one to deny themselves the benefits of plastic while everyone else continues to use it?”
“Yeah, I hear about all of the plastic in the landfills and now in the ocean. There’s so much! How do you stop the world from using it?”
“One person at a time, maybe. Or if nature could pass a law….But the nature lobby is pretty small. Not much money there. And the high powered lawyers generally work for the money, not for the natural benefits of the other side.”
“It’s all about money, then, right?”
“Follow the money, Mr. Woodward,” said Deep Throat. “Follow the money.”
Gil was turning onto Joseph’s street now as he replied, “Yeah, that’s usually true.”
“Thanks for driving me, Gil. Keep me posted on what’s going on,” he said as he got out of the car.
“Sure thing. I’ll be in touch.”
Joseph went inside. The house was quiet since it was not quite time for his folks to be back from church. He thought he would wait a little bit and see if they came home for lunch or stayed for pot luck.
Perspective
His parents came home for lunch. So he had a lunch of a couple of BLT’s with his parents and, yes, a long discussion about the events of the morning.
Joseph mentioned that the 300 acres that would become a solar farm and would be used to undermine the spirit of the Eagles Nest agreement concerning environmental issues.
“Hmm, I think I’m beginning to understand,” said his dad.
“At this moment, the 300 acres is just undeveloped land.” He said it in a matter of fact tone, as if that was all it was.
Joseph had thought of it that way, also, just undeveloped land. The comments on how the solar farm would change that land would redefine it as “developed land.”
Nature is all around you. Some of it gets used for houses and factories. Some is used for farms and parks. Is there really a problem?
Joseph was slow to respond, but finally said, “Friday, it was all alive with grass and bushes and animals and birds. And then this morning it had been partially cleared, only stands of trees left. Without the TRO, those will soon be gone, too.
“It seems that nature is always in retreat, yielding bits and pieces to buildings and concrete. And to solar panel farms and windmills, as it had yielded to coal-fired plants and nuclear reactors. And to landfills and – what would you call them – oceanfills? - the barges dumping trash into the seas?”
His dad nodded. “Yes, nature is necessary. What about the improvements we make on nature?” He gestured with his hand to the house around them.
Joseph felt like he was being pulled, not in opposite directions by the two perspectives but back on track, somewhere in between.
“You’re right, nature is necessary, but so are the improvements. I was thinking that the question was, ‘Who will speak for nature?’ Maybe it is like Dinah asked me, ‘How do we find the right balance?’”
“Let me ask one more question, Joseph. Is The Community using the Grit Bush to stop the solar project as an environmental issue, or is it because they were out negotiated? Is it really all about nature?”
His first instinct was defensive, but he realized that everything he knew about the situation had come from sources on the side of The Community. Was there another side? Was there a middle ground to be found between The Community and the investors developing the land, like the path between nature and people’s improvements on nature?
“I suddenly feel there is even more to all this than I realized,” admitted Joseph. “What do you think, Dad?”
“I don’t know enough about it to have a firm opinion. It seems there is more to know that would be helpful.”
Joseph took that as a polite way of encouraging him to do his own research and make up his mind himself. It actually made him feel good that his father trusted him to make his own judgment.
He smiled. “Yeah, thanks for talking about it, Dad.”
A couple of hours on the internet looking for reasons to save undeveloped land or to develop it left him dizzy. One side’s argument sounded like turning the clock back a thousand years and doing what had always been done. The other side said to move forward with science: use factory farms and concentrated animal feeding lots to gain the scales of economy, and increase food through chemistry and pharmaceuticals.
And experts spoke truth on both sides, a weapon aimed with the intent to put a shroud over the viewpoint of the other, bury the opposition beneath a barrage of facts.
Neither extreme sounded appealing. If he came away with anything from his reading, everybody left a carbon footprint.
Birds build nests, and beavers build dams, and, yes, as the saying goes, bears do relieve themselves in the woods. They acted out of instinct, an innate knowledge of how things are to be. Their impacts were always balanced in nature: necessary for the continuation of life and in harmony with the whole.
Mankind’s impact was not like that. Nature was but a slave to be worked so as to maximize the highest yield. We build bigger barns and throw all of nature out of balance.
It was late in the afternoon, but Joseph suddenly thought of Jerry. He had intended to visit the man before now, but life seemed full. He had been too busy to slow down, certainly too busy to stop.
Maybe a break from thinking about solar farms and Grit Bushes would be a good thing.
He borrowed the car and drove to New Deal. It did not even occur to him to call ahead, or even to think that the old man might have a cell phone and communicate by text.
Sunday afternoon was just another day at the New Used Cars lot, and it was busy. Joseph saw Billy talking with a couple next to a metallic blue Chevy Sonic. A few cars away, a man he assumed was a salesman was talking to a middle aged man in overalls about an old F-150 pickup.
He pulled up beside Jerry’s small house and went to the door. The A/C hummed that all was right with the world. He gave a sharp knock.
A muffled unintelligible voice came through the door, and he took that as a sign to enter.
“Jerry?” he called as he opened the door.
“Come on back here,” came the reply.
He found Jerry at the same table where he had seen Jerry eat his meal and then share a roll on his first visit. The old man again was in well-worn clothes, the faded Bass Pro hat laying on the table.
“How are you doing, Jerry? Any more adventures?”
Jerry studied the stranger for a few seconds and then smiled. “Joseph, my friend. Welcome back!”
He half got out of his seat and extended his hand. Joseph shook the frail hand offered and sat in the chair opposite.
“Adventures and miracles happen every day, my friend. All we have to do is see them, because they are done for us.”
Joseph nodded, then asked, “What are you reading?
Even as he spoke, he realized that the huge book was a large print Bible. Wide margins made it even larger. Joseph could see notations scratched all along the borders of the two pages open in front of Jerry.
“It’s the Bible. I like to read the Gospels over and over. Sometimes I feel like I’m reading something for the first time. There’s always a new way to understand the words in red.”
“What’s your favorite part?”
Jerry thought a minute. “Jesus knows how to answer the question behind the question. When they ask if the woman caught in adultery should be stoned or not, they think they have Him.
“If He says, ‘Yes,’ then He has violated Roman law that forbids the Jews to exercise the death penalty. If He says ‘No,’ then He is disobedient to the Law of Moses. Jesus said that the man without sin should throw the first stone. All the accusers just walked away, leaving Him and the woman alone.”
Jerry was smiling.
“Yes, Jesus always seemed to know how to respond, didn’t He?” agreed Joseph. “Even when the Pharisees were coming at Him like enemies, He turned them back with His words.”
“Yes, He did. He fought against ideas with words instead of fighting with a fist or a sword.”
As Jerry was talking, his mind seemed to go somewhere else.
Joseph remembered Jerry’s comment about being in Viet Nam. “You had to fight some battles, too, didn’t you, Jerry?”
Jerry broke from this trance but he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. His eyes were getting misty.
“Yes. We shot at each other.” His words came very slowly as if he were having to dig deep inside for them and drag them out.
“But the VC were not my enemy, and I was not their enemy. Only our ideas were enemies.”
He stopped as if enough had been said, but Joseph wanted to understand better.
“But weren’t their ideas wrong and ours right? Wasn’t it about freedom?”
“An idea is just a thought,” said Jerry. “It’s just a thought. And both sides believed their ideas. The ideas were fighting, but the ideas weren’t dying. It was the people that were dying.”
Joseph thought he could bring Jerry around to feeling better about the war and what he might have had to have done. “Wasn’t one idea bad and the other one good?”
The small old man had been staring down at the Bible, but now he looked up at Joseph. His eyes were moist and a tear fell from one of them.
“What if one idea is better than the other, but it is still not the best idea. If the good idea gets in the way of the best idea, isn’t it wrong, too?”
Joseph was having a little trouble following the logic, but then he believed that one idea was the best one. And, of course, that was the idea of his side, of Jerry’s side.
“What is the best idea, Jerry?”
Jerry looked down at the Bible. He put his finger on a page. He turned the book around so that Joseph could read it, still holding his finger beside one verse.
Joseph looked down at the large print, some of it in red. He read aloud, “John 8:7 – ‘So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.”’”
Joseph had to concede that was a brilliant answer. But how could that be applied to a war against Communism in Viet Nam, against the violence being done over there at that time?
“Jerry, what was the United States supposed to do?”
Jerry turned the Bible back around toward himself and looked down at it. He appeared to be reading for a few moments. Then he turned the book around for Joseph, his hand pointing to a verse on the opposite page.
Joseph read aloud: “John 8:31- ‘Then Jesus said to those Jews who believed Him, “If you abide in My word, you are My disciples indeed. 32 And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”’”
Joseph looked up at Jerry for further explanation.
Jerry asked, “If Jesus had drawn a sword to save the woman, would He have been the one who was right?”
It hardly seemed like the situations were the same to Joseph, and yet there was something eerie about the point that Jerry was making.
The old man didn’t seem crazy or addled. To Jerry, it all seemed to make perfect sense. Conflict was to be solved in a better way. Rather than the confrontations that confirmed differences and enmity, the solution was to find the truth that made obvious the correct course.
”What is the truth that Jesus is talking about, Jerry?”
Jerry looked at Joseph patiently, as if waiting for Joseph to answer the question.
And the answer came, finally.
“Jesus did not have to use violence because there was a better way, the best way.”
Of course! How could Jesus ever have used a sword?
This made perfect sense in the Bible story, but how could one apply it to the problems of life and the world? And that is what he asked Jerry.
Jerry sighed. “There are as many answers as there are questions. There is always a truth, but who knows it? Sometimes only God.”
Jerry gave another deep sigh. “I am tired, Joseph. You and God must answer your questions.”
Joseph could see the tiredness, the frame of flesh barely able to support it.
“Before I go, do you need anything, Jerry?”
“No, thank you, Joseph. Billy helps me, and Tina always brings me a meal. Every day is good, and I am grateful. I am blessed.”
Joseph looked around at the small living space Jerry called home. What does it take to make a person happy, content with the surrounding world?
Not a whole lot, it looks like.
Then he caught something that Jerry had said. “You mean Billy that owns the New Used Cars takes care of you?”
“Yes, he is my nephew. He set me up here where he could spend time with me.”
Joseph felt a sense of relief that Jerry had family. He stood and reached over and took Jerry’s hand. He gave a hearty shake, and said, “See you later, Jerry.”
Joseph went back out into the same world he had left only a few minutes before. It was still the same world.
Getting in the Corolla, he did not feel particularly enlightened. Talking to God had always seemed a one way conversation. The picture of looking up at Dorothy and waiting for her to talk came to mind. Yeah, a lot like talking to a scarecrow.
But didn’t it, the “she” that was the scarecrow, give you what you needed for her story, for Jerry’s story? Did you change, or did she change, when you saw her differently?
Yes, that was true. But she…it was just a scarecrow.
Then how did an ‘it’ give you the story?
“Indeed. How did Dorothy give me her story?”
The answer came upon him like a light switch being flipped on. “I saw her differently! Maybe I need to look at things differently,” Joseph thought. The next logical thought regarding the solar farm was that “we” need to look at the situation in a new light.
So figure out what differently looks like….
Little was left of the afternoon and it provided no enlightenment. Dinner with the parents was good but lacked something. There was some conversation about the controversy surrounding the solar panel farm, but nothing that helped to further Joseph’s understanding of what needed to be done.
Most of the evening was spent watching a Matt Damon action movie, and that was a good distraction. Joseph was not sure that he was ready for sleep, but he went to bed at 9:30 and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
What Is the Question?
Monday morning brought a vision of a yard calling out to be mowed. The rain had done its job in the soil, and it was time again for Joseph to do his.
After mowing and a shower and a snack, he went to his office to think about selling ads. At least he could be productive in that arena if not in the triangle of Eagles Nest, The Community, and the solar panel farm.
He set his sights on the edge of Smithfield closest to Corn maize, researching what businesses were there and not on the list of advertisers with The Bee. Then he learned about the first three businesses, making notes from internet searches about them. Armed with the notes, he launched out into the world.
Five hours later, he returned without any new business, but with a couple of possibilities. The firm doing small business accounting and payroll did not give any hint of interest, but the other two he chalked up as “possibilities for follow up in a few weeks.”
As he pulled the Corolla into the driveway, his cell phone rang. Coming to a stop, he looked at the screen, Barney Franklin.
“Hello, Mr. Franklin!” he answered cheerily.
“Joseph, how are you?”
“Well, I just talked to three businesses about ads today, but no sales. Maybe a couple of possibilities for the future, though. How are you doing?”
“I was doing very well until I got a call from an Atlanta reporter a few minutes ago. It seems there are some folks here in Choctaloosa County about to bring a big solar farm construction project to a halt. Would you know anything about that?”
Joseph felt his stomach tighten at the thought of major media being involved in the story. It was exciting, but intimidating at the same time.
“Yes, I was with some people from The Community looking at the project. We found an unusual bush that we learned from an old picture is probably a Grit Bush. We got a Temporary Restraining Order to protect the bush, but the next morning went and saw it had been destroyed by their construction crew the previous day.”
“A Grit Bush, huh. You mean the one that has never been seen or proven to exist?”
“There was a drawing of one in a book at the library, and it does look just like the pictures we took.”
“Didn’t we talk about your job being to sell advertising, Joseph?”
“Yes, Mr. Franklin. And I decided that anything else I did was on my own time.” Joseph added with a laugh, “So if they want to sue anybody, you and The Bee are off the hook, Mr. Franklin.”
“Well, I am glad to hear that, Joseph, because the reporter mentioned that there is likely to be a lawsuit. I am a bit worried about you, though. Why don’t you come and tell me about it in the morning, say about 9:00?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Franklin. I’ll see you at 9:00.”
Still seated in the idling car, he felt himself perspiring in spite of the A/C.
Lawsuit! Emergency! Emergency! All hands on deck!
He called Gil’s cell number, but got a recording. He left a message asking Gil to call, giving a brief description of the phone call to Barney Franklin.
He walked into the house, his mind in a whirlwind.
Dinner conversation should be interesting again….
Gil called Joseph about 8:00.
“Sounds like the people behind the project are ready to rattle a few cages,” said Gil.
Joseph felt a bit rattled and said so.
“I talked with Charles and he said a call from the same paper called The Community and tried to talk with someone. Charles told them to decline talking at this point, which is probably just as well. The newspaper may even have a link to the project, and I am not sure anything we said would be put in a positive context. Let’s see what the proponents of the solar project put out there.
“We are in a bit of a weak position right now anyway. No need to advertise that or to say anything that could be taken out of context.”
“What about the reference to a lawsuit?”
“Like Charles said. We had enough evidence to justify the TRO. The fact that they destroyed the proof before the TRO doesn’t change that. The Community will probably lose the $5,000 bond, but no more than that.
“You sound a bit worried. Don’t let them get to you psychologically. That is what this opening salvo is about.”
“You are very reassuring on this part of it, but what about the fact that we don’t have anything that will prevent them from completing the project?”
“Yeah, that is a concern. Listen, you want to have lunch tomorrow and talk about it? Why don’t we meet about 11:00? We’ll be ahead of the crowd wherever we go.”
“Sure, but I’m without a car on Tuesdays.”
“Yeah, that’s alright. I’ll pick you up a little before 11:00.”
“Thanks, see you then.”
And that was all that could be done tonight.
The more Joseph thought about Gil’s response, his apparent lack of concern – and Gil would certainly be in the crosshairs of any lawsuit – the more Joseph could relax. By the time he went to bed, it was not really on his mind. After all, one day at a time….
Tuesday morning was a bike ride to The Bee to visit with Mr. Franklin only a few minutes ride away.
Mr. Franklin was in his customary place, parked behind his desk with a fair number of pieces of paper scattered loosely in piles across his desk. After “Good mornings,” he was ready to get to the business at hand.
Joseph sat in the chair across the desk from him and proceeded to tell all of the facts relevant to the TRO on the solar panel farm.
At the conclusion, Joseph said, “Telling you the story as it is now, I feel like something is missing, like we got it wrong somehow.”
“Are you having second thoughts about whether you are on the right side of this issue?”
“No. No, it’s not that. Just something is missing.”
Don spread his hands in front of him. “There is not an ending yet. We don’t know who won. It won’t be decided until there is a judgment.”
Joseph was thinking of the brief visit with Jerry the previous afternoon as Mr. Franklin spoke. The concept of a winner and a judgment brought everything closer together.
“Yeah, that’s it. The way you put it is the way things are headed. There will be a winner, but there also will be a loser. Whoever loses will not change their mind about the issues. Whoever wins will be more adamant about their position.
“Why do there have to be both winners and losers? Why can we not find an answer that is better than winners and losers?”
Mr. Franklin assumed his paternal posture, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk and his hands rising together like a steeple. “That’s the way our judicial system works, son. A judgment is made. Somebody wins. Therefore, the other one loses.”
“That’s just it!” exclaimed Joseph. “Why does it have to go to court and lawyers argue over points of the law that may have nothing to do with the real issue here.”
“Alright, Joseph,” said the editor, leaning back in his chair. “What is the issue?”
Joseph relaxed back into his chair from where he had been leaning forward, literally on the edge of his seat. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”
Rephrasing it, Joseph asked the same question again, “So what is the issue?”
“Sounds like several issues,” replied Mr. Franklin, jumping into the silence. Counting on his fingers, he made a list.
“There’s the solar panel farm. There’s the Eagles Nest development. There’s the concern in The Community about the destruction of the environment. And there’s the question about how all of this growth will change Choctaloosa County.”
He was now holding up four fingers spread out on his left hand, his right pointer finger touching his left thumb. “Have I left out anything?”
Joseph was thinking about the conflicts between the four fingers, held up high and each pointed in a slightly different direction. Perhaps that was it.
Joseph held up his left hand, the four fingers side by side, all pointing in the same direction. “How do we make it look like this?”
Mr. Franklin looked at the hand with the fingers joined together from their base to their tips. “What is it that is going to bring them together?” he asked.
“Now that is the issue, the real question, isn’t it.” He said it as a statement.
The two of them talked a little while about the different people involved and their expectations: The Community, the investors, buyers at Eagles Nest, and the citizens of the county. There did not seem to be much overlap of what they might want.
A little after 10:00, Joseph thanked Mr. Franklin and headed home. Mr. Franklin had made a lot of notes as Joseph described events. It looked like he might have an article for his next edition.
Joseph felt a little more at ease than when he had left home. Nothing had been resolved, but at least now he felt like he knew the question.
continued
Library Period
“Is it possible?” asked Joseph. The thought that they may have stumbled onto a way to stop the solar farm seemed too much to hope for.
Dinah and Claire looked at each other and then back at Joseph. “How do we find out?” asked Claire.
“Let’s start with the diary,” said Dinah, for the first time placing herself into events occurring outside of Chloe’s small world.
“So another field trip, but to the library this time,” stated Joseph.
Joseph was surprised when Claire said, “Why don’t you two go? Chloe seems pretty peaceful, and she has just been fed.”
Dinah started to protest, but stopped before any words came out. Then she nodded and said, “It will be good to get out.” Laughing, she added, “The last time I left the house I had a baby. And the Celica probably needs a good drive anyway.”
It was only 11:00, so Dinah and Joseph decided to go to the library in Smithfield and return to the house for a late lunch.
Walking toward the Celica with Dinah, Joseph remarked that it was in great shape for an older model.
“It was my brother’s,” Dinah responded. “He has worked on it since he was old enough to drive. College didn’t allow freshmen to have cars, so it came to me. He hasn’t wanted it back yet.”
As she got in the driver’s side, she said thoughtfully, “I think I need something more sensible, like maybe a Honda Accord.” She put the key in the ignition, and the engine leapt to life.
Backing around for a three point turn, she added, “Definitely not an SUV, though. I’m NOT ready for that.”
And thus she defines her current stage in life.
Things change. And the person. And the car needs to change. And probably a bunch of other things.
Dinah pulled out onto the two lane highway, turning left toward New Deal.
She turned off the radio as a C&W singer was in the midst of a Somebody Done Somebody Wrong song.
Silence.
Not all bad, but it was not the easy silence like when your parents didn’t need to say anything, or your friend didn’t need to say anything, because talk just wasn’t necessary. It was a shared experience, even if you weren’t thinking the same things or looking at the same things.
They were already past the scarecrow, and then they were on the other end of New Deal and Jerry’s place on the edge of the New Used Cars passed by.
Silence.
Here goes.
He opened his mouth to speak, not yet sure what would come out, but Dinah said, “Yeah. That’s it. A lot of things need to change.”
“What would you change first?”
He immediately regretted the question because his first thought was “diapers,” but he hoped she would go on to whatever the second thought was.
Silence.
But this was OK. He knew she was here with him now and thinking, so the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I’m Chloe’s mom, so that is already a big change. And that is good. I actually like it.”
“You appear to be very good at it,” volunteered Joseph.
Silence.
Corn Maize came into view. It took a little longer to pass through the business section than in New Deal.
“But I’m still Dinah Jacobs, and I need – want- a life that includes that role but is larger than that.”
Joseph did not believe a response was necessary, but maybe just some encouragement….
“That sounds very reasonable. Mothers are people, too.”
“Yes, we are.” Dinah, the 17 year old, was speaking now.
The place where Dinah had pulled to the side of the road and delivered Chloe was just ahead on the right. Joseph saw Dinah looking at it.
“I wonder if I can ever go past this spot and not think about that day,” she said.
Joseph had the same thought.
“I am so grateful you were there, Joseph. I don’t know any of the guys at school who could have been as encouraging, as positive, as…non-judgmental.”
Silence.
He was uncomfortable but could not think of anything to say that sounded genuine.
“But when you came to the house and I thought you were just there to write a newspaper article about it, I was crushed. I didn’t really hear your explanation that the article was going to be written by someone, that it was just a matter of who wrote it. I just cried, feeling sorry for myself.”
Silence.
Smithfield was coming into view. And getting nearer.
“And then I read the article and I cried again, but this time because the same story could be told in such a beautiful way.”
The first traffic light turned red and they came to a stop.
“I don’t have any friends. And maybe that is OK at the moment. I have another priority.”
The abruptness of her statement made it all the more significant.
“What about all the friends you had at school. You really had a lot of people around you all the time, it seemed.” He regretted saying it even as the words were coming out because he knew what her response would be.
“And what do I have in common with them now, Joseph?” She looked at him, tears starting to fall. “It’s like there is a wall between us, or maybe it’s just an empty space with no common ground.
“What are you doing these days, Dinah?’ she mimicked. And I tell them what is going on with Chloe and how even at less than 2 weeks that she has changed so much.”
The light had turned green and she was moving forward toward the next light where they would turn toward the library lot.
“’And what have you been doing?’ I would ask. And I would hear the gossip about who is dating and who has broken up, and about who is saying what, and…. I really don’t care. We live in different worlds!”
She pulled into a parking place. “I feel like I’m already an adult, but I don’t know who I, Dinah Jacobs am…or want to be.”
Both of her hands remained on the wheel, the car still running.
“I know it’s not the same thing, but it is like I passed over a line that day on the side of the road, too,” said Joseph. “The things I had done the year before, even the week before, had seemed natural and right. But after that, the games, the social media, just messing around, even thinking about going to school, all that stuff, just seems like…well, just distractions. It seems like there are more important things.”
She was wiping her tears with her sleeves. It was only then that he realized that she had not been wearing makeup like she used to at school. Her shirt sleeve would have been a mess.
“Is that what it is like when we become adults?” She was trying to laugh through the tears.
“I think for most people it is a process, something that happens over time. Your mom said something interesting the other day, that adults are mostly stuck emotionally somewhere between the ages of 2 and 17. I thought grown-ups were grown up, but after what she said, I see how a lot of the way people act comes from that. They just manage it on the surface better.”
“So how old are we now?”
Thoughts raced through his mind at the speed of light until finally one stuck. “Right now? We are in this moment, aren’t we? You are 17, and I am 18, trying to figure out how to get to 18 and 19. And what gets us there is just a string of moments, each one a ‘now,’ leading us forward.”
When Joseph thought about what he had just said, it sounded pretty good. He needed to remember that.
“A year ago, I would have thought that was a bunch of bull that made no sense. But I get it now. ‘Now,’” she laughed, again wiping away a tear.
He smiled. “Well, maybe now is the time to go inside and see what we can find out about the Grit Bush.”
She nodded and turned off the engine.
They stepped into the brightness, humidity, and heat of the day, moments later entering the dark, dry, and cool of the library.
She led him to the Alabama area of the reference section. A few moments were required to find a three ring binder labelled, “Diary of Ella B. Mayes.”
Joseph pulled it out and they went to sit at one of the tables and look through it.
Dinah remembered a bit about the book and turned through the last third of the book. Turning quickly through the pages, she stopped at the drawing of the Grit Bush.
The drawing was at the bottom of a page, its lines standing in dark contrast to the faint handwriting above it. The students who put together the book were allowed to type up the handwritten portion, then use a copier to get the relatively few pages with drawings.
“Let’s get a photocopy,” said Dinah, picking up the binder and heading toward the copy machine.
Joseph checked his pockets, but all he had were two twenties and a ten from Mr. Franklin, no change or ones. Dinah pulled the quarters from her pocket book and made a copy of the page with the picture. She also made a copy of the typed page that had some of Ella’s comments on the picture.
“Mission accomplished?” asked Joseph, taking the book from her as they headed toward its shelf.
“Almost.”
He put the binder back on the shelf and she led to the checkout/information desk.
“Do you have any books on the Grit Bush?” she asked the woman seated behind the counter.
The woman had seen them come from the Reference section and almost laughed out loud. “Not that I know of, not even in the Fiction section.”
“Thanks,” smiled Dinah and they headed back to the car.
The car was sweltering hot in the noonday sun. The A/C blew hot air at them as they buckled up and Dinah pulled out of the lot.
Joseph was comparing the sketch with his pictures, scrolling through the few he had of the white crowned plant. “Yeah, they really do look like the same plant.”
Within a couple of minutes, the air was dry and cool, and Smithfield was fading out of the rear view mirrors as they traced the route backward toward Corn Maize.
“A year ago, would you have written about the scarecrow?” Dinah asked, referring to the articles that Joseph had described.
“No, I am sure I would not have taken notice of the scarecrow, or of Jerry. I wouldn’t have been there to meet Gil, or get to visit The Community. If all of those things had happened a year ago, they would have had no relevance to my world.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Dinah said. “We wouldn’t care about Eagles Nest or the solar panel farm. We wouldn’t be finding out that maybe the Grit Bush was real.”
“It’s all about timing, isn’t it? Do you wonder what we did miss last year?” he asked.
“Like you said, we’re in the now. So I’m not going to worry about the ‘might have beens.’”
“Good thought,” he agreed. “What we can do in the here and now needs to be our focus.”
He read aloud the few sentences about the Grit Bush.
“’The Grit Bushes only grow Wild, now. The Stems are covered in Thorns, and they produce few Grits. But the Old Ones say there were once Fields of them, planted and cared for. In those days, the Stems had no Thorns, and the Heads were full of Grits.
“’The motto of the Free State was, ‘Love of God and Mankind and the Grit Bush.’ It seemed to encompass all of Nature and all of the World. And Life was Good.’
“She sure capitalized a lot. What was the ‘Free State?’ And why was something as plain as grits so important?”
Dinah slowed as they reached the lower speed limit of Corn Maize. Fields had given way to houses from different time periods, distancing themselves from the road with lots of green space. Ahead were the structures of the town, planted along crisscrossed rows of concrete.
Joseph imagined the dirt roads of 180 years ago. There would have been a few homes, standing like sentries on the edge of the wilderness, widely scattered around a small cluster of wood frame buildings. It had been like an outpost in nature, the beachhead of civilization.
Now he understood the emphasis in history classes on the westward advance of civilization. He could see the Romans going into the wilds of France and Germany, fighting tribes who hunted and gathered rather than created empires.
And so it had been as the Europeans crossed the ocean that had sheltered the natives of the Americas, the barrier that had kept them one with nature and apart from the civilizing influence of Europe.
This place, Choctaloosa County, also had once been what the civilized world would have called a place of darkness. And yet it would have been the place most like the Garden of Genesis. He felt alternating shivers of wonder and dismay, as he became aware of what he was seeing as they passed through Corn Maize.
The gas station, advertising the price of gas and a special on bags of corn chips; Buena Vida Hair Salon; Wynn Independent Insurance Agency; Avo’s Tea Room; Tide and Tiger Tire and Auto; and on and on, more concrete, more walls.
He was relieved when Dinah interrupted his thoughts.
“Mom has been helping me to keep up with my schoolwork. I’m not actually in school, but sometime I have to go back. Or I have been thinking about just getting my GED, going through the textbooks on my own and just taking the tests.
“She insisted that one of the courses be the words in red, you know, what Jesus said in the Gospels. At first, I thought that was pretty lame. It had nothing to do with the GED, and I didn’t know how that kind of judgment was going to help me.
“Since I was off of social media and pretty much a recluse, it was like my time in the wilderness. And I began to actually understand some of what Jesus was saying. He didn’t judge. He said to quit looking at what people were doing and to look at what God’s intention had been from the beginning.
“Maybe that’s what the Old Ones she is talking about had found. It is all about loving the Creator and the people and the things He had created.”
Joseph told her what he had been thinking about civilization’s advance into nature. “Do you think that is what the Old Ones had discovered on the edge of the frontier, that life was just that simple, to love God and Mankind and all of Nature?”
They were riding in the space between Corn Maize and New Deal now. There were woods alternating with large fields. Houses and trailers insinuated themselves into the rustic picture, along with bits of trash, the occasional rusted car, and the odd billboard.
“And how do we do that here and now?” he added. He did not know all that much about the Bible and Jesus as he thought about it. Sure, he had heard a lot at church, but it always seemed like another time and place, like most of it was not relevant today and was hard to understand.
Silence.
Still focused on the road, Dinah spoke. “I cannot tell you the answer to that. But when I think about having Chloe born in a car on the side of the road with the help of somebody I hardly knew, it makes me think of the story of the Good Samaritan.
“I looked back at where Mom and I had studied that. Samaritans did not believe in God the same way the Jews did. The Samaritans and Jews were not really enemies who fought each other, but they did not hang around together, either. And yet there was a Samaritan who stopped to help a wounded Jew on the side of the road. And he made sure the injured person was looked after and cared for.
“We didn’t really know each other, and my friends were not your friends. You helped me on the side of the road, and you came back and helped later by protecting me from being the subject of a newspaper article.”
Silence.
“You showed that the Good Samaritan story still happens.”
She took her eyes off the road briefly and locked eyes with him for a moment, then focused again on the road ahead.
“That means a lot, Joseph. It also makes me think of Jesus and the Samaritan woman. Mom talked to me about that one a lot while we were waiting for Chloe to come. That woman was changed. And she became a disciple and brought the men of the city to Jesus.”
Joseph looked back out the window, thinking of when he had seen her car on the side of the road. He had seen someone in trouble and had stopped. Other cars had not stopped. On any given day, he might not have tried to see who was in the car and just gone on, oblivious to the miracle that was happening in the front seat of a sporty red car.
He really could not explain why it had all happened as it did. Maybe that is part of the definition of a miracle, that it is unexplainable.
“Can we make that sort of thing happen more? It’s not like I planned to do anything when I left home. It just happened.”
“Events happen, but it’s because people make them happen.” She paused, and added, “And we get pollution and climate change, too. That’s what I have been thinking about Eagles Nest and the solar panel farm. It’s like we are inching farther and farther away from the world as it was made.
“But then how would we live without electricity and running water and cars, and all of the other things that make life so much easier? That’s the other side of it and I don’t know how to bring those two things into balance.”
The Buck Ten Variety at the edge of New Deal loomed on the right, a garish reminder of civilization. It used to be a Dollar Variety store, but inflation had hit.
The New Used Cars lot was on the left, an array of cars poised to leap out onto the highway.
And farther ahead were Eagles Nest, the future solar panel farm, and The Community. The Community’s vision of itself at its beginning must have been much different than the present moment.
From his visit a few years ago on the school field trip and the recent visit with Gil, he did not think they would have envisioned their present condition. They had come to reconnect with nature, to start an Eden, an old way of life, in a new world. And now they found themselves front and center in the new world, being swept forward by “progress.”
Was that what it was all about, moving back to a simpler time? But if it were simple, would the need to work 24/7 just to have food and shelter make it better in some way? Something was missing.
“In your study, was Jesus trying to move the Jews backward in time?” Joseph asked.
“I thought that, too, but Mom said that wasn’t it. It was just about staying in relationship with God as you moved forward, and that also meant staying in relationship with the people and the world that He had created.”
They were through New Deal now. As they went over the small rise in the road, he looked to the left and saw Dorothy still guarding her field. All he could see was her head, but he also remembered her arms outstretched as a prelude to an embrace, ready to accept all.
“And that is what the Good Samaritan was doing. He was bringing a little piece of heaven down to earth.”
They were soon pulling into Dinah’s driveway. Now it’s Dinah’s, not Claire’s?
His bike still leaned against the tree in the cool of the shade, no doubt appreciative of not having to make the long journey (in bike miles) to Smithfield and back.
Joseph had a weird feeling of arriving at home. Even weirder was the fragrance of Dinah as he held open the front door and she walked by him. There was no perfume, and nothing unpleasant, just her.
Stepping inside, the smell of hotdogs and baby, more or less in that order, took over. He was hungry. And thirsty.
Claire had prepared lunch, so they were soon seated at the table with two hot dogs and chips for Joseph, a bun-less hot dog and salad for Dinah, and a salad for Claire. Chloe must have smelled the food and decided she needed to join the party, so she gave notice of her intent.
Dinah held the baby again while she ate. Chloe seemed content just to be a part of the gathering.
First was the library report and a sharing of the two documents with Claire. Then the discussion of what to do next.
Claire stated the obvious: “If we have a species of plant that is thought to be extinct or to never have existed, we have something to keep them from developing the land.”
“So it would seem,” agreed Joseph. He felt like there was something larger involved, but he could not find the words for it.
“But how do we make it known and have the project stopped?” asked Dinah.
Joseph suggested they get Gil involved, and he pulled out his cell phone.
Gil answered in his official voice and Joseph identified himself, put the phone on speaker, and explained what had happened.
“That sounds very promising, Joseph. Why don’t you and I go take a look at those plants, maybe dig one up tomorrow? Meet you there about 8:00 in the morning? I’ve got a client in a little while, and then a late afternoon appointment up in Smithfield, or I would say do it now.”
‘OK,” said Joseph. “I’ll see if I can use the car tomorrow.”
“Never mind that,” said Gil. “I’ll just come to your place at 8:00.”
Agreeing, Joseph hung up. “Well, you heard, so that is our next step, I guess. Do you want to go, too?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
The women declined. Claire said, “Just keep us informed of what you find.”
Joseph agreed to do so.
He suddenly found that he had no other reason to stay there. Chloe was awake and peaceful in her mother’s arm. It was suddenly very quiet.
“Well.” He said, getting up. “Thank you for lunch, Claire. And thanks for going with me to the library, Dinah.”
After their “You’re welcome,” responses, Joseph concluded, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He went outside and retrieved his bike. He wished he had a car. He would just go get one of the bushes now. But it would be very awkward to try to hold one while riding his bike on the highway.
‘Tomorrow is another day,’ said Scarlett O’Hara. And so he proceeded home.
The discovery of what might well be a Grit Bush made for a lively discussion at dinner that night. Joseph’s dad suggested that he get a sample to someone who could get an official finding on the plant in scientific terms. He wrote down a name, number, and the office address for Joseph to contact at the Auburn Museum of Natural History.
Field Trip #2
The next morning, Friday, Joseph went outside to wait for Gil.
The paper was already in the yard and he eagerly opened it. “Wisdom from a Scarecrow” began on Page 1. It continued on Page 4. An article establishing a scarecrow contest for the families of Choctaloosa County was on the same page. Mr. Franklin had placed a picture from Dorothy’s good side beside it.
The ad for Don’s Hardware was on Page 6 along with the article Joseph had written describing the business. It all looked pretty good.
Gil arrived and Joseph tossed the paper onto the porch and got into the front passenger seat. They discussed getting the plant and getting out quickly. Joseph mentioned the contact name his father had given him to determine officially what plant they had discovered.
It occurred to Joseph that Gil seemed to have a lot of free time.
“Gil, if you don’t mind me asking, you seem to have a lot of free time. How do you make a living here in Choctaloosa County? You seem to mostly help people who don’t have a lot of money.”
“I don’t mind at all, Joseph,” said Gil, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “You see, I am retired and I have a little money.”
“You seem to have retired pretty young. Did you invent something or what did you do to make your money?”
That’s it! Find the secret to financial success!
“In college, I met a lot of the right people. And I worked in the financial world, you know, one of the big brokerage firms that’s tied in with the big banks.
“I seemed to have a knack for picking the right stocks. But the tech boom helped to make it look easy. The real secret was identifying which ones were going to implode instead of explode. You have to look at the character – or lack thereof – of the principals running the business.
“The principles of the principals!” Joseph could see that the financial adviser could literally not keep from laughing.
“When you saw what a Bill Gates or a Mark Zuckerburg did to get started, you could feel the ruthlessness that made them comparable to the industrial tycoons of the late 19th century. I knew history and that it was about to repeat itself.
“So I put my money on the right horses, and advised my clients to do so. And the more the right horses won, the more advantages they were given on the track.”
“You sound like you were a long way from Choctaloosa County. How did you end up here?”
“Well, I felt I had outgrown Chicago and went to New York. And that is where I hooked up with BlackRock Financial. And I just made more money.
“Anyway, having made a bundle and seeing what was happening, I decided to redeem myself by teaching people how to live as free as possible from the tyranny of this system.”
“What do you teach them?”
“Look at the situation now. The government lockdowns forced thousands of small to medium businesses to close. The financial payments to millions of people out of work were so high that the businesses who survived are having trouble finding workers.
“These actions are basically destroying the middle class, making more people dependent on the government. The more the government controls paychecks, the more they control people, that is, limit freedom.
"So I encourage people to pay with cash, support their local businesses and banks, and keep money flowing in Choctaloosa County.
"Now look at the way the Fed (i.e., private banks) printed all that stimulus money for COVID and where did it go? Look at the high stock prices. Stocks have become over-valued compared to what they can earn for the investor here in the middle of 2021. So where so you put your money? Gold? Bitcoin? How about land?
“Think about it: how much new land is there going to be?”
Joseph shrugged. “There is no new land on earth. What we have now is all there will ever be.”
“Exactly! And that is where inflation went: higher prices for investments and land.”
“Invest in land, particularly arable land that can produce food, and you have two of the best three investments that you can have. There will be no new land and everybody needs food. When you grow your own food, you can have assurance of quality as well as supply.
“Keep some investment in tech stocks if you have the money. Then you’ve got three sure fire winners land, food, and tech. As tech and medicine merge, they will become larger together than the two were when separate.
“We’ll talk more when we have the time,” he said as they saw the Eagles Nest entrance on the left. Their destination was just ahead on the right.
But when they arrived at what had been a deserted construction site the day before, the construction equipment was all in motion, plumes of dust creating low clouds in the sunny morning air.
A crew of two men were putting up posts and attaching an orange plastic web fencing to them. They were halfway from the edge of the property to where Gil had pulled the Jeep Cherokee onto the dirt entrance road. One of the men headed their way.
As he neared, the construction man said a hearty, “Good mornin’, fellas. What can I do for you?” He wore the traditional hard hat and safety vest over his blue jeans and plaid shirt. His tone was the opposite of the man that Joseph and Claire had encountered the day before.
Gil replied, “Yesterday this was just grass, bushes, and trees like the rest of this highway. Today it looks like the hub of a major construction site. What are you building? What will this place be?”
“Oh, we’re just site preparation. We’ve got drawings of how they want the land laid out, and that’s all we do. But, yeah, it looks like quite a project!”
“Just seems like they’re in a hurry. Nobody was here yesterday and now look at all this!”
The construction man laughed. “Yeah, it worked out great for us. My crew out there get to work as long as there is daylight, overtime and all.”
“I was kinda hoping we could get a few plants I’d seen over near the tree line,” Gil said, pointing in the direction Joseph said the Grit Bushes were located.
“Ah, afraid I can’t let you do that. Now that we got the machines going, they’d shoot me for letting someone onto the land we’re working. You might get bull-dozed, graded, or chipped, or all three. Besides, we’re adding the No Trespassing signs when we get this fence up.
“My name’s Harvey, by the way.” He took off a glove and extended his right hand.
“I’m Gil, and this is Joseph,” Gil replied, shaking the hand offered.
“I gotta help Bill get this fence put up. Sorry we can’t help you. Hope you have a good day.” Harvey gave a slight tip of his hat and put his glove back on, effectively dismissing them.
“Yeah, you too, Harvey,” replied Gil.
Harvey didn’t move, clearly waiting for them to leave. Gil and Joseph got back in the Bronco.
A Glimmer of Hope
“And now what?” asked Joseph as he buckled the seat belt.
Gil paused for a moment. “From the looks of things, we need a Temporary Restraining Order to block what is happening here as soon as possible. If those bushes are destroyed, it will be difficult to prove they existed just from the cell phone pictures. And if they are gone, there is nothing here to protect.
”Of course, a Preliminary Injunction will also be filed, but that takes time and they can continue to work during the process. The TRO will protect the Grit Bushes until we can get the Temporary Injunction made permanent.
He had already pulled out onto the highway, headed toward The Community. “Let’s see if their lawyer up here can get something done.”
While Gil drove, Joseph called the number in Gil’s phone for Nate Johnson at The Community. He explained the situation and got the number of their resident lawyer, Charles Mason.
“I’ve met Charles,” said Gil. “Let me talk when you get him on the line.”
Joseph called the number given and handed the phone to Gil.
After a brief reminder of who he was, Gil said, “We’re passing through The Community entrance now. Would you give me your address so we can explain in person what we need done urgently to try to block the solar farm construction?”
Gil listened to the directions, making a turn off the paved main road onto a dirt road. Two more turns brought them to a log cabin, their destination.
Charles was outside, waiting for them. Probably around 40, he sported a blonde ponytail and trimmed beard. He was dressed in the business casual of the community, jeans and a tee shirt, black in his case.
Joseph was introduced and they went inside. The living room was to the left, a kitchen to the right, and the area between contained a table and chairs for eating or, as the pile of boxes attested, playing games with the kids. Bedrooms and baths were beyond the far wall.
The living room had padded wooden chairs, quite comfortable as Joseph selected one. He noticed that two were a little shorter. “My wife is rather short and hates it when her feet don’t reach the floor, so we made a couple of the chairs for the vertically challenged folks,” Charles said with a smile.
Gil explained the situation with Joseph filling in the details, including their slim amount of evidence: cell phone pictures and the two photocopies from the Ella B. Mayes diary.
“That’s it?” asked Charles.
“We would have brought one of the plants, but as I mentioned, we’re not allowed on the property. But based on what we have and on what Joseph and Claire Jacobs saw, we may have a real discovery here. And if the construction crews destroy the bushes, our only solid evidence, we have no case and they proceed with the construction.”
“I know the county judge pretty well,” said Charles, “and in a good way,” he added.
“When The Community first arrived, things were a little tense with law enforcement. The founders set up two policies that helped to alleviate the tension.
“Teenagers for a couple hundred miles around heard of the hippie commune that had arrived, and there were quite a few runaways who showed up here. The first rule was that they had to call their parents and assure the parents they were OK.
“The second rule was that anyone charged with a crime would be turned over to the sheriff’s office. No exceptions. After those policies were put into effect and the officers saw we were on their side, we really became more like allies. They trusted us to handle things the right way.
“When I took over about ten years ago, things were running smoothly and I’ve tried to keep it that way.
“Tell you what, help me draft a petition for a Temporary Restraining Order and I’ll get it to Judge William St. John.”
They worked together on the petition for a couple of hours. Joseph texted the pictures and Charles added them to the petition.
When the document was finished, Charles said, “The request asks for a ten day TRO to allow time to verify the plant is rare and only known to exist in this location. It will be up to us to prove that, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
“We’ll file a Preliminary Injunction, which will call for a hearing and allow the other side to present their case, also. I’m also going to ask for a warrant to enter the property immediately and secure a sample bush.
“Let me see if I can track down the judge.” He opened his contacts and punched the judge’s personal number.
Gil smiled. “That is a reassuring sign.” They listened to one side of a brief conversation, ending with Charles saying, “I’ll see you there at 10:00 tomorrow.”
Charles said, “The judge will look at the petition at 10:00 in the morning. Yeah, on Saturday. He’s booked up this afternoon but will meet me after an early round of golf. Keep your fingers crossed.”
“When we get the bush and it is verified as the legendary Grit Bush, how long does it take to get protected?” asked Joseph.
“Way too long. The EPA has up to 90 days to determine if protection may be warranted and up to another year to decide that protection is or is not warranted. That’s why there will be a Preliminary Injunction to givr us the necessary time. Nad we’ll have to keep the situation monitored at all times. It won’t be an easy process.”
After being assured that Charles would call as soon as he had a ruling one way or another, Gil and Joseph left.
Walking back to Gil’s Jeep, Joseph thought of calling Claire and Dinah, but then he had a better idea.
“Gil, If Claire is available and wants an update, do you have time to stop at her house?”
“Sure. Give her a call.”
Joseph hit her home number. Dinah picked up on the home phone almost immediately. After calling down the hall to her mom about their visit, she said it would be great for them to bring an update.
Fifteen minutes later they were at the front door. Claire opened the door and Joseph introduced Gil to her as she led them to the living room.
“Well?” she asked as she sat on the sofa.
Joseph had taken “his” chair and Gil hesitated between choosing the other chair at the far end of the sofa and sitting next to Claire. She patted the sofa seat and assured him that she did not bite.
His cheeks flushed a bit and Joseph had expected a snappy comeback and was surprised to see his mature and cultured friend at a bit of a loss.
“At least today we were run off in a friendly manner, unlike yesterday,” Joseph spoke into the silence.
At that moment, Dinah came in with Chloe cradled in one arm. Introductions were made and Chloe seemed content to listen rather than to participate in the discussion.
Joseph described the encounter with the man installing the fence while all of the heavy machinery was operating in the background.
Gil then summarized the appeal for a Temporary Restraining Order and that they would have to wait for Charles to tell them what the judge had decided.
He continued, “I had no idea that Samuel Jacobs had such a close tie to the area when he was negotiating with The Community for the Eagles Nest land.”
Claire nodded. “And I did not know until recently that he was involved. I probably would have tried to keep it from happening,” she laughed.
Gil’s phone rang. He looked at the screen. “It’s Nate,” he said, and put the phone to his ear.
After a short conversation, he hung up. “Bruce Denton, the Council Chairman at The Community, has called a meeting of the Council and all interested Community members for 4:00 tomorrow. He told Nate that you and I can attend as spectators, if we want to come.”
“Of course!” said Joseph.
“Good. We’ll head up there in time for the meeting. It’s lunch time. Does anyone want to go to Dell’s?”
“It will probably be busy and noisy. If you’re OK with sandwiches and chips or salad, we can eat here,” Claire offered.
Joseph knew she was trying to keep them here to allow Dinah some adult conversation.
Gil and Joseph agreed, so Claire excused herself to the kitchen.
As she passed Dinah, her daughter started to rise from the chair. Claire put her hand on Dinah’s shoulder, pushing her back down. “I’ll handle it. You and Chloe keep your seat and entertain our guests.”
Looking at Joseph and then Gil, she said, “I think a song and dance are not going to happen for entertainment. Joseph has mentioned your business, but would you tell me about it, Gil?”
With a sandwich and salad bar for lunch, and conversation about the events around The Community and its new neighbors, a couple of hours passed relatively quickly.
Gil drove Joseph home. “Not much else we can do until the TRO comes through, hopefully after Charles’ meeting with the judge tomorrow morning. Plan on me picking you up at 3:00 for The Community meeting. We can at least do that, and maybe find out how Charles did on the TRO.”
They parted company and Joseph went into his house.
The Community Council
Joseph heard nothing from Gil, so he was ready at 3:00 Saturday afternoon.
Gil was on time and they talked little on the drive. No news yet from Charles, and Gil was unsure what The Community Member meeting would bring forth.
There were few vehicles outside when they arrived, but many of the members would have walked. Inside, the meeting room was packed, standing room only at quarter to 4:00. They found a place to stand against the wall and waited, the atmosphere electric with anticipation and filled with conversations.
There was a section up front for the council members, and chairs behind them for the residents. Three chairs on a slightly raised platform in front were the only empty seats.
At 4:00, Bruce, Nate, and Faye Harte stepped onto the raised platform. Conversation died quickly as Bruce bypassed his chair and stepped up to the single microphone stand.
He cleared his throat and leaned toward the microphone.
“I know that everyone is anxious about news concerning the developments on the properties next to us. There will be some information on that in a moment. But first I want to make a statement that bears on what you will hear in a few moments.”
He cleared his throat again, clearly having difficulty with what he was about to read.
“The Community has faced many challenges since its inception over 40 years ago. A few of you have been through them all, learning through trial and error how to be an individual as part of a group, a part but of a whole.
“The generation that followed has had to learn in the same way, unfortunately, and I am of that generation.
“I come before you today in a state of humility.
“The Community’s precept of Right Living, which states that our interactions with the outside world always be consistent with our principles, has been central to our success.
“I strongly encouraged the alliance with outside interests to develop The Destination as a way to influence the outside world. By bringing influential people into our community, my hope was to change their perspective on nature, on people, on life. I did not know that their influence would be changing The Community instead of us changing them.
“I apologize to everyone in The Community for taking us down this road.
“The voices raised against the project were prophetic. I needed their help and would not admit the error of the path I promoted.
“I am eager to help us return to the core principle of Right Living. I will do this as a member of The Community, not as Chairman. I yield my position to Faye Harte, the Vice-Chairwoman.
“We must return to our roots, the principles that brought us here in the beginning and that hold us together now. We are here to serve and to protect one another, and to serve and protect the earth from which we came.
“It is the spirit of love that compels everything, and that must remain at the very core of our being, both as individuals and as a community.
“Faye wants and needs the same level of support and advice that was offered to me. Help to guide her and the council, and to support one another. The times ahead are uncertain, but in community we will make our way, as we have before, based on the principles of love of one another and of the earth that is home to us all.
"With fond regard for all, and respectfully yours, Bruce Denton.”
He folded the sheet of paper, switched off the microphone, and went toward the door through which he had just entered. He stopped before exiting and took a place along the wall with other residents.
There were a few claps from the audience as he left the stage, gradually increasing until most of the crowd stood and clapped in respect for their out-going chairman. That some remained seated showed the divisive nature of the events that had unfolded in recent months.
As the audience sat down and became quiet, Faye stood, speaking with a mic attached to her collar.
“We are all appreciative of the contributions that Bruce has made to The Community over the years. I accept the position as Chairwoman in accordance with the rules established in our by-laws. I do so only if I may have your assurance, not only of your support, but of your guidance as we make our way together into the future.
“We have endured many struggles through the years. This is one more. We will survive this one, also, as a community sharing the same ideals for how to live in harmony with nature and with each other.
“We will return to an effort to change the world from where we are instead of changing the world from where it is.
“You are aware of the Eagles Nest development on the 200 acres that we sold recently. You may be aware of the solar panel farm on the 300 acres across the highway from Eagles Nest.
“There has been a new development, and I will ask Nate Johnson, General Manager, and Charles Mason of our legal staff, to address this.”
Charles had joined them while Faye was speaking and had sat beside Nate.
What ensued was a ten minute talk by the two men outlining what had transpired. The sale of the land for Eagles Nest and the stipulations requiring the development of a green community had looked promising. Discovery of the plans for a solar panel farm looked promising in the beginning.
Then came the discovery that this project would be the only thing green about Eagles Nest. As with alternative power supplies in general, the benefits would be offset by lack of restraint on the demand side for power. This would violate the spirit of the transaction, but the fact that all was solar powered would fulfill the legal letter of the contract.
Charles gave the concluding comment.
“The last development is that Judge St. John has written a Temporary Restraining Order preventing further development of the solar panel farm on the 300 acres below our property for a period of one week. We were required to post a $5,000 bond.
“He has also issued an order allowing a designated team from The Community to collect samples of a suspected rare bush that would be added to the Endangered Species list if its existence at this location is proven. That discovery will initiate a further suspension of work until there is a ruling from the Environmental Protection Agency.
“The importance of this development cannot be overstated. Without the solar panel farm project, Eagles Nest most likely will be unable to meet its promises concerning the conservation efforts required in their contract. In that event, we would be able to sue to have the land sale reversed.
“We look forward to this resolution of the issue regarding the properties to our south.
“We will now open the floor for questions.”
Gil leaned over to Joseph. “I think this is our cue to leave.”
They walked back to the door through which they had entered. It seemed almost everyone had a question. The meeting could last for hours.
“Do I need to be there when they look for the Grit Bush to show them where it is?” Joseph asked as they emerged from the building.
“Most definitely. This wasn’t the time or place to bring up that fact. I’ll text Charles and Nate and ask them what time we should meet them there tomorrow.
”The sheriff’s office should deliver the TRO and stop work tonight, or at least first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll be in touch with you when we have a time established to dig up a Grit Bush or two.”
They stopped to give Claire and Dinah the good news on the TRO, and Gil delivered Joseph back to his home in Corn Maize. It was not quite 6:00 when Joseph arrived walked into the house.
“How was your day, dear?” asked his mother.
“It looks like there will be some dinner conversation,” he said as he went to wash up.
Hope Dimmed
A late night text from Gil alerted Joseph to a 7:00 trip to the solar panel farm to collect the Grit Bush samples. He would come about 6.30 to get Joseph.
That sounded like things were on track and Joseph set his alarm for 6:00 and slept well.
Next morning, Joseph went into the kitchen for a quick bowl of Cheerios and found his dad there making a cup of coffee.
“You’re up early for a Sunday morning!” his dad remarked.
“Gil is coming in a few minutes to take me up to the solar farm and get the Grit Bush samples. I should be back in time for church. I can’t imagine it taking very long.”
His father nodded and poured coffee into his cup.
Joseph fixed his bowl of cereal and ate quickly. They spoke only a little about the day and what was next.
Gil pulled in front of the house shortly after Joseph walked out on the porch. It was a pleasant enough morning. The rising sun was not yet hot but promised a scorcher. They talked little as they drove north to the construction site.
The plume of smoke was visible before they had left New Deal. A dark cloud hovered above their destination.
With some anxiety, they sped forward. When Gil finally turned into the area from which they had been turned away on Friday morning, the fence gate was open. They entered, headed toward the source of the cloud of smoke.
A huge pile of burnt brush was smoldering in the center of a barren field.
A low cloud cover had come from the southwest. The air now felt humid, heavy with smoke-filled dread. The sun was still low in the east, its rays slipping beneath the ominous skies overshadowing Choctaloosa County. It was only a matter of time before the clouds would dim this light.
The mechanical arsenal had retreated to its former position, standing at attention on wheels or treads, waiting to be called into action again.
The stands of trees were still in place, but all of the brush had been dozed into a long pile and set ablaze. The green brush had been cut and burned alive. The smoldering fire yielded more smoke than flame, hence the dark haze hovering in the area beneath the overcast sky.
Joseph directed Gil to drive along the tree line adjacent to The Community property, but all of the land had been dozed and the brush pushed into what now was charred sticks and ashes.
“There’s nothing here,” said Joseph, stating the obvious.
They had driven the length of the property and seen nothing helpful to their cause.
“It looks like they pretty well demolished the north side of the acreage. They knew what to destroy,” observed Gil.
A pickup entered the property from the highway. A few moments later, an older F150 4-door came to a stop on the passenger side of the Jeep. Nate, Charles, and Faye looked expectantly at Joseph.
He lowered his window. “They’re gone. The plants we saw have all been destroyed.” He pointed toward the smoldering remains back in the center.”
Gil leaned over and spoke through Joseph’s window. “Let’s do a ride around to see what’s here, then look more closely for any trace of the bush we’re looking for. Everybody has seen the picture right?”
All three in the second vehicle agreed.
“We’ll finish around the perimeter,” continued Gil. “You look around the islands of trees. We’ll meet back at the entrance and then we’ll walk it if we have not found anything.”
“Sounds like a plan,” affirmed Nate. The two vehicles went in different directions, meeting at the entrance shortly afterward.
All five got out of their vehicles at the entrance.
Faye asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Charles, what recourse do we have if we cannot find this bush?”
“We’re probably going to be up a creek without a paddle. I think the evidence that we provided will keep us from being liable in a suit for damages due to the delay, but just those pictures is pretty shaky for moving forward. We will lose our bond unless we find some solid proof.” Charles stood with his arms folded, facing the blackened brush.
He continued, “There must have been something along with the TRO describing what we were looking for. Or maybe a copy of the pictures. Or maybe somebody in the sheriff’s department tipped them off.”
“Did the clearing of this part of the field and the burning of these bushes occur after the TRO was delivered?” asked Nate.
“I don’t know how we would be able to prove that at this point,” replied Charles. “Let’s walk the land looking for any sign of that bush, even a root. If we split up, it won’t be too big a job.
They spread out, one along each edge of the field, looking across the boundary, as well. Two headed toward the stands of trees scattered along the middle part of the acreage. Nate drove to the other end and walked the back edge.
A fruitless and gritless hour and a half later, they were a discouraged group, again at the entrance to the property. Nate had planned ahead and had a bottled water for everyone.
Joseph leaned against the Cherokee and finished his water. The sky was now totally overcast. The fire still smoldered. It was hard to tell where the rising smoke ended and cloud began. The air was sticky.
Would it be too much to ask for a rain to wash everything away and start over?
“Surely there is evidence somewhere other than these photos that the Grit Bush still exists,” said Charles to no one in particular.
“Well, we have a week to find it,” said Nate.
“No,” corrected Charles. “We have a week to find it here.” His hand pointed down to the ground beneath their feet. “If the bush is anywhere else, the construction team is off the hook and can continue.”
It didn’t take long for that fact to sink into the mind of each individual standing there.
At that moment, a few big fat drops of rain splattered randomly about them and on a few of them.
The smaller raindrops had been waiting above, joining together into gangs before hurtling downward. The parched hot earth would have vaporized the tiny droplets, the larger ones sizzling before disappearing. But now, plump and heavy, they didn’t just land and vanish in steam. They transformed their landing pads into small warm marshes, island pools waiting for re-enforcements.
In response, the five became two as everyone ducked back into their vehicles. Aware of their victory, the heavy raindrops unleashed their reserves in a drenching downpour. The sound on the rooftops drowned out conversation. The denuded field around them was quickly turning into mud.
Nate signaled for Gil to follow and they headed back to the highway. Within a few minutes they were back at Nate’s office building. By then the rain had become a kinder, gentler, soaking rain.
Options…or Not
Entering The Community’s office building, they proceeded to what was now Faye’s office. Nate pulled one of the chairs from his office and the 5 of them discussed options.
Actually, no one had an option to offer.
Charles finally spoke. “This is a really long shot, so if you have any other ideas, let me know.
“I have pictures, and I’m sure you do, also. Everyone send me your pictures from this morning.
“Joseph, you have a picture of where you saw the Grit Bushes, but they were gone today, right.”
“Yes.”
“Send me those separately. Maybe the background plants on the tree line will make it clear that the bushes were there and are not there now.
“What we’ll try, if no one has a better idea, is to go for the seeds. Since the Grit Bushes were there, we need to give them a year to see if they produced seed and will come back next spring. There may even be ungerminated seed from last year.
“This is really a long shot, and a long shot is hardly even a strategy, but it’s all I see at the moment.”
Faye summarized. “So we have to argue that the possibility that seeds from a plant not proven to exist will produce Grit Bushes next year. We just have to hold up a project worth several hundred million dollars for that year, right?”
“Yeah. That sums it up pretty well.” Charles managed a smile. “I’ll do some research on how long seeds are viable in other plants of the maize family. I’m sure a certain percentage will germinate in the second year and even longer.
“Any other thoughts?”
Faye asked, “Are there any other grounds for blocking this project? Since Plan A appears weak, is there a Plan B that provides alternative grounds.”
“Maybe somebody else can help me out here, but these are the negatives of this project of which I am aware.”
Charles picked up a tablet on Faye’s desk and started writing bullet points.
“Although this solar project sounds big, it is relatively small scale compared to the truly large ones. I think the investors will continue to grow the size by acquiring more land. Consider that land adjacent to this solar farm is not going to be attractive for residential or retail use, and the return on a farm or ranch would be much less than the return on energy. Pricing will push more land into alternative energy sources like solar.”
He wrote, Depreciation of adjacent land value.
“Nationally, more and more land will be allocated to energy production. This will result in reduced area for food production and residential areas resulting in rising land prices.
Increased cost of land for other purposes, he wrote.
“As the available amount of land for farming decreases, and the value of that land rises, the cost of food and textiles will increase.”
Inflation of food and textile prices.
Beneath that he wrote, Decommissioning.
“Decommissioning the solar panels – which may occur in 20 to 40 years depending on who is talking – will leave toxic material to be disposed, the amount varying depending on who is speaking. We did not think through the decommissioning of nuclear plants or even how to handle the daily nuclear waste, and that is a tremendous problem now.”
Future value of toxic land, he wrote as he spoke, also will be affected by the accumulation of herbicides and insecticides used to keep nature from reclaiming the land. Whether there is other toxicity from the panels due to damage by storms, hail, tornadoes, etc., is also a possibility.”
Gil asked, “What about the transmission towers?”
Charles wrote, Transmission towers & right of way, saying, “Good point. A lot of land will be condemned for right of way.”
“Aesthetics, always an issue with industrial projects,” he said as he wrote the word.
And below that he wrote, Competition for land with plants and animals.
“There are probably a good many more issues. For example, the Chinese are the main source for solar panels. They are not averse to creating pollution or using forced labor for high volume technologies with an international market demand.
“Our problem, and the world’s problem, is that one solar farm in Alabama does not create enough of these effects to be judged significant. But the cumulative effect of solar, wind, and water as sources of energy generation are becoming significant. No one jurisdiction will take the view of what is happening to the planet as a whole.
”Meanwhile, energy production for increased consumption by industries and consumers will reduce the quality of life, especially for the poorest. Reducing these demands is at least equally important as supply issues.”
After a moment of silence as everyone absorbed the information, Faye observed, “That was a very enlightening exercise, Charles, but is there anything in there that will help us?”
“Yeah, that’s the point, isn’t it,” he stated, looking at the list.
Faye suggested a meeting of The Community Council to discuss options for moving forward. “I know a second meeting in as many days is unusual, but this is an unusual situation. We’ll just have the Council rather than the full membership like yesterday, so we can be more focused.”
There was general agreement with her suggestion since the small group appeared stuck at this point.
Nate whispered something to Gil.
Gil nodded and said to Joseph, “Why don’t we head back.”
As they walked to the car, Gil said, “I’ve got a meeting with a young couple in a little while, so I’ll just take you home unless there’s some other place you want to go.”
“Home is fine,” said Joseph. And it was.
As they drove the dozen or so miles to Corn Maize, Joseph observed the amount of land that appeared to be unused.
‘There is so much land unused in the county, Gil. Are we wrong to stop some of it from being put to productive use? I understand we need to be using energy more wisely, but does that mean we should produce less until we conserve more?”
Gil didn’t answer immediately. When he did, he sounded more like he was thinking out loud than giving a preconceived answer.
“I think the electric power coming out of the solar farm is a secondary issue. The primary issue is identifying what resources will be used and then if solar power is the best use of the resources.
“For example, nuclear plants can produce electric power. Quite a few were built, but you don’t see that happening now, even when additional sources of power are needed. The process of creating the power is expensive due to the need for radiation protection, dangerous when those protections fail, and the end result is not only power, but also a lot of radioactive waste for which we have no solution.
“The list of negatives for solar power has some similarity, but it is still too new for all of the negatives to be known. The costs are less obvious, less dramatic. Ironically, nuclear power was envisioned as almost free of charge. But then we learned the true costs, the reality that theory ignored.
“I think the general concern of The Community and many environmentalists is that no one is speaking up for nature. Nature cries out with the damage done by pollution, chemical farming, corporate animal feeding organizations, and such, but people are hard of hearing when it comes to that stuff.”
Joseph was puzzled. “But the effects of industrialization are often very obvious, like you mentioned with nuclear power. And there are the polluted lakes, rivers and ocean; the air pollution in cities even going out into the countryside; the rise in obesity; plastics that won’t degrade, and those are just a few things that I even know about. Why is it so hard to see what is right before our eyes?”
“Think about it,” said Gil. “If a person’s paycheck depends on not seeing the truth, they’re usually going to look the other way.”
Now that is a chilling thought!
Joseph began to see what he meant.
Gil continued after a pause. “Think about illegal drug pushers. They know what they’re doing to their buyers. Now think about the people who pushed prescription painkillers, often similar if not identical to the illegal version. Didn’t they know what they were doing?
“And then they argue that where there is a demand, someone will be there with a supply. So it’s one of those cycles where the blame goes both ways, the customer and the seller.”
“So environmental issues are like that, too, huh?”
“Plastic sure is handy for a lot of applications,” agreed Gil. “But who is going to be the one to deny themselves the benefits of plastic while everyone else continues to use it?”
“Yeah, I hear about all of the plastic in the landfills and now in the ocean. There’s so much! How do you stop the world from using it?”
“One person at a time, maybe. Or if nature could pass a law….But the nature lobby is pretty small. Not much money there. And the high powered lawyers generally work for the money, not for the natural benefits of the other side.”
“It’s all about money, then, right?”
“Follow the money, Mr. Woodward,” said Deep Throat. “Follow the money.”
Gil was turning onto Joseph’s street now as he replied, “Yeah, that’s usually true.”
“Thanks for driving me, Gil. Keep me posted on what’s going on,” he said as he got out of the car.
“Sure thing. I’ll be in touch.”
Joseph went inside. The house was quiet since it was not quite time for his folks to be back from church. He thought he would wait a little bit and see if they came home for lunch or stayed for pot luck.
Perspective
His parents came home for lunch. So he had a lunch of a couple of BLT’s with his parents and, yes, a long discussion about the events of the morning.
Joseph mentioned that the 300 acres that would become a solar farm and would be used to undermine the spirit of the Eagles Nest agreement concerning environmental issues.
“Hmm, I think I’m beginning to understand,” said his dad.
“At this moment, the 300 acres is just undeveloped land.” He said it in a matter of fact tone, as if that was all it was.
Joseph had thought of it that way, also, just undeveloped land. The comments on how the solar farm would change that land would redefine it as “developed land.”
Nature is all around you. Some of it gets used for houses and factories. Some is used for farms and parks. Is there really a problem?
Joseph was slow to respond, but finally said, “Friday, it was all alive with grass and bushes and animals and birds. And then this morning it had been partially cleared, only stands of trees left. Without the TRO, those will soon be gone, too.
“It seems that nature is always in retreat, yielding bits and pieces to buildings and concrete. And to solar panel farms and windmills, as it had yielded to coal-fired plants and nuclear reactors. And to landfills and – what would you call them – oceanfills? - the barges dumping trash into the seas?”
His dad nodded. “Yes, nature is necessary. What about the improvements we make on nature?” He gestured with his hand to the house around them.
Joseph felt like he was being pulled, not in opposite directions by the two perspectives but back on track, somewhere in between.
“You’re right, nature is necessary, but so are the improvements. I was thinking that the question was, ‘Who will speak for nature?’ Maybe it is like Dinah asked me, ‘How do we find the right balance?’”
“Let me ask one more question, Joseph. Is The Community using the Grit Bush to stop the solar project as an environmental issue, or is it because they were out negotiated? Is it really all about nature?”
His first instinct was defensive, but he realized that everything he knew about the situation had come from sources on the side of The Community. Was there another side? Was there a middle ground to be found between The Community and the investors developing the land, like the path between nature and people’s improvements on nature?
“I suddenly feel there is even more to all this than I realized,” admitted Joseph. “What do you think, Dad?”
“I don’t know enough about it to have a firm opinion. It seems there is more to know that would be helpful.”
Joseph took that as a polite way of encouraging him to do his own research and make up his mind himself. It actually made him feel good that his father trusted him to make his own judgment.
He smiled. “Yeah, thanks for talking about it, Dad.”
A couple of hours on the internet looking for reasons to save undeveloped land or to develop it left him dizzy. One side’s argument sounded like turning the clock back a thousand years and doing what had always been done. The other side said to move forward with science: use factory farms and concentrated animal feeding lots to gain the scales of economy, and increase food through chemistry and pharmaceuticals.
And experts spoke truth on both sides, a weapon aimed with the intent to put a shroud over the viewpoint of the other, bury the opposition beneath a barrage of facts.
Neither extreme sounded appealing. If he came away with anything from his reading, everybody left a carbon footprint.
Birds build nests, and beavers build dams, and, yes, as the saying goes, bears do relieve themselves in the woods. They acted out of instinct, an innate knowledge of how things are to be. Their impacts were always balanced in nature: necessary for the continuation of life and in harmony with the whole.
Mankind’s impact was not like that. Nature was but a slave to be worked so as to maximize the highest yield. We build bigger barns and throw all of nature out of balance.
It was late in the afternoon, but Joseph suddenly thought of Jerry. He had intended to visit the man before now, but life seemed full. He had been too busy to slow down, certainly too busy to stop.
Maybe a break from thinking about solar farms and Grit Bushes would be a good thing.
He borrowed the car and drove to New Deal. It did not even occur to him to call ahead, or even to think that the old man might have a cell phone and communicate by text.
Sunday afternoon was just another day at the New Used Cars lot, and it was busy. Joseph saw Billy talking with a couple next to a metallic blue Chevy Sonic. A few cars away, a man he assumed was a salesman was talking to a middle aged man in overalls about an old F-150 pickup.
He pulled up beside Jerry’s small house and went to the door. The A/C hummed that all was right with the world. He gave a sharp knock.
A muffled unintelligible voice came through the door, and he took that as a sign to enter.
“Jerry?” he called as he opened the door.
“Come on back here,” came the reply.
He found Jerry at the same table where he had seen Jerry eat his meal and then share a roll on his first visit. The old man again was in well-worn clothes, the faded Bass Pro hat laying on the table.
“How are you doing, Jerry? Any more adventures?”
Jerry studied the stranger for a few seconds and then smiled. “Joseph, my friend. Welcome back!”
He half got out of his seat and extended his hand. Joseph shook the frail hand offered and sat in the chair opposite.
“Adventures and miracles happen every day, my friend. All we have to do is see them, because they are done for us.”
Joseph nodded, then asked, “What are you reading?
Even as he spoke, he realized that the huge book was a large print Bible. Wide margins made it even larger. Joseph could see notations scratched all along the borders of the two pages open in front of Jerry.
“It’s the Bible. I like to read the Gospels over and over. Sometimes I feel like I’m reading something for the first time. There’s always a new way to understand the words in red.”
“What’s your favorite part?”
Jerry thought a minute. “Jesus knows how to answer the question behind the question. When they ask if the woman caught in adultery should be stoned or not, they think they have Him.
“If He says, ‘Yes,’ then He has violated Roman law that forbids the Jews to exercise the death penalty. If He says ‘No,’ then He is disobedient to the Law of Moses. Jesus said that the man without sin should throw the first stone. All the accusers just walked away, leaving Him and the woman alone.”
Jerry was smiling.
“Yes, Jesus always seemed to know how to respond, didn’t He?” agreed Joseph. “Even when the Pharisees were coming at Him like enemies, He turned them back with His words.”
“Yes, He did. He fought against ideas with words instead of fighting with a fist or a sword.”
As Jerry was talking, his mind seemed to go somewhere else.
Joseph remembered Jerry’s comment about being in Viet Nam. “You had to fight some battles, too, didn’t you, Jerry?”
Jerry broke from this trance but he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. His eyes were getting misty.
“Yes. We shot at each other.” His words came very slowly as if he were having to dig deep inside for them and drag them out.
“But the VC were not my enemy, and I was not their enemy. Only our ideas were enemies.”
He stopped as if enough had been said, but Joseph wanted to understand better.
“But weren’t their ideas wrong and ours right? Wasn’t it about freedom?”
“An idea is just a thought,” said Jerry. “It’s just a thought. And both sides believed their ideas. The ideas were fighting, but the ideas weren’t dying. It was the people that were dying.”
Joseph thought he could bring Jerry around to feeling better about the war and what he might have had to have done. “Wasn’t one idea bad and the other one good?”
The small old man had been staring down at the Bible, but now he looked up at Joseph. His eyes were moist and a tear fell from one of them.
“What if one idea is better than the other, but it is still not the best idea. If the good idea gets in the way of the best idea, isn’t it wrong, too?”
Joseph was having a little trouble following the logic, but then he believed that one idea was the best one. And, of course, that was the idea of his side, of Jerry’s side.
“What is the best idea, Jerry?”
Jerry looked down at the Bible. He put his finger on a page. He turned the book around so that Joseph could read it, still holding his finger beside one verse.
Joseph looked down at the large print, some of it in red. He read aloud, “John 8:7 – ‘So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.”’”
Joseph had to concede that was a brilliant answer. But how could that be applied to a war against Communism in Viet Nam, against the violence being done over there at that time?
“Jerry, what was the United States supposed to do?”
Jerry turned the Bible back around toward himself and looked down at it. He appeared to be reading for a few moments. Then he turned the book around for Joseph, his hand pointing to a verse on the opposite page.
Joseph read aloud: “John 8:31- ‘Then Jesus said to those Jews who believed Him, “If you abide in My word, you are My disciples indeed. 32 And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”’”
Joseph looked up at Jerry for further explanation.
Jerry asked, “If Jesus had drawn a sword to save the woman, would He have been the one who was right?”
It hardly seemed like the situations were the same to Joseph, and yet there was something eerie about the point that Jerry was making.
The old man didn’t seem crazy or addled. To Jerry, it all seemed to make perfect sense. Conflict was to be solved in a better way. Rather than the confrontations that confirmed differences and enmity, the solution was to find the truth that made obvious the correct course.
”What is the truth that Jesus is talking about, Jerry?”
Jerry looked at Joseph patiently, as if waiting for Joseph to answer the question.
And the answer came, finally.
“Jesus did not have to use violence because there was a better way, the best way.”
Of course! How could Jesus ever have used a sword?
This made perfect sense in the Bible story, but how could one apply it to the problems of life and the world? And that is what he asked Jerry.
Jerry sighed. “There are as many answers as there are questions. There is always a truth, but who knows it? Sometimes only God.”
Jerry gave another deep sigh. “I am tired, Joseph. You and God must answer your questions.”
Joseph could see the tiredness, the frame of flesh barely able to support it.
“Before I go, do you need anything, Jerry?”
“No, thank you, Joseph. Billy helps me, and Tina always brings me a meal. Every day is good, and I am grateful. I am blessed.”
Joseph looked around at the small living space Jerry called home. What does it take to make a person happy, content with the surrounding world?
Not a whole lot, it looks like.
Then he caught something that Jerry had said. “You mean Billy that owns the New Used Cars takes care of you?”
“Yes, he is my nephew. He set me up here where he could spend time with me.”
Joseph felt a sense of relief that Jerry had family. He stood and reached over and took Jerry’s hand. He gave a hearty shake, and said, “See you later, Jerry.”
Joseph went back out into the same world he had left only a few minutes before. It was still the same world.
Getting in the Corolla, he did not feel particularly enlightened. Talking to God had always seemed a one way conversation. The picture of looking up at Dorothy and waiting for her to talk came to mind. Yeah, a lot like talking to a scarecrow.
But didn’t it, the “she” that was the scarecrow, give you what you needed for her story, for Jerry’s story? Did you change, or did she change, when you saw her differently?
Yes, that was true. But she…it was just a scarecrow.
Then how did an ‘it’ give you the story?
“Indeed. How did Dorothy give me her story?”
The answer came upon him like a light switch being flipped on. “I saw her differently! Maybe I need to look at things differently,” Joseph thought. The next logical thought regarding the solar farm was that “we” need to look at the situation in a new light.
So figure out what differently looks like….
Little was left of the afternoon and it provided no enlightenment. Dinner with the parents was good but lacked something. There was some conversation about the controversy surrounding the solar panel farm, but nothing that helped to further Joseph’s understanding of what needed to be done.
Most of the evening was spent watching a Matt Damon action movie, and that was a good distraction. Joseph was not sure that he was ready for sleep, but he went to bed at 9:30 and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
What Is the Question?
Monday morning brought a vision of a yard calling out to be mowed. The rain had done its job in the soil, and it was time again for Joseph to do his.
After mowing and a shower and a snack, he went to his office to think about selling ads. At least he could be productive in that arena if not in the triangle of Eagles Nest, The Community, and the solar panel farm.
He set his sights on the edge of Smithfield closest to Corn maize, researching what businesses were there and not on the list of advertisers with The Bee. Then he learned about the first three businesses, making notes from internet searches about them. Armed with the notes, he launched out into the world.
Five hours later, he returned without any new business, but with a couple of possibilities. The firm doing small business accounting and payroll did not give any hint of interest, but the other two he chalked up as “possibilities for follow up in a few weeks.”
As he pulled the Corolla into the driveway, his cell phone rang. Coming to a stop, he looked at the screen, Barney Franklin.
“Hello, Mr. Franklin!” he answered cheerily.
“Joseph, how are you?”
“Well, I just talked to three businesses about ads today, but no sales. Maybe a couple of possibilities for the future, though. How are you doing?”
“I was doing very well until I got a call from an Atlanta reporter a few minutes ago. It seems there are some folks here in Choctaloosa County about to bring a big solar farm construction project to a halt. Would you know anything about that?”
Joseph felt his stomach tighten at the thought of major media being involved in the story. It was exciting, but intimidating at the same time.
“Yes, I was with some people from The Community looking at the project. We found an unusual bush that we learned from an old picture is probably a Grit Bush. We got a Temporary Restraining Order to protect the bush, but the next morning went and saw it had been destroyed by their construction crew the previous day.”
“A Grit Bush, huh. You mean the one that has never been seen or proven to exist?”
“There was a drawing of one in a book at the library, and it does look just like the pictures we took.”
“Didn’t we talk about your job being to sell advertising, Joseph?”
“Yes, Mr. Franklin. And I decided that anything else I did was on my own time.” Joseph added with a laugh, “So if they want to sue anybody, you and The Bee are off the hook, Mr. Franklin.”
“Well, I am glad to hear that, Joseph, because the reporter mentioned that there is likely to be a lawsuit. I am a bit worried about you, though. Why don’t you come and tell me about it in the morning, say about 9:00?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Franklin. I’ll see you at 9:00.”
Still seated in the idling car, he felt himself perspiring in spite of the A/C.
Lawsuit! Emergency! Emergency! All hands on deck!
He called Gil’s cell number, but got a recording. He left a message asking Gil to call, giving a brief description of the phone call to Barney Franklin.
He walked into the house, his mind in a whirlwind.
Dinner conversation should be interesting again….
Gil called Joseph about 8:00.
“Sounds like the people behind the project are ready to rattle a few cages,” said Gil.
Joseph felt a bit rattled and said so.
“I talked with Charles and he said a call from the same paper called The Community and tried to talk with someone. Charles told them to decline talking at this point, which is probably just as well. The newspaper may even have a link to the project, and I am not sure anything we said would be put in a positive context. Let’s see what the proponents of the solar project put out there.
“We are in a bit of a weak position right now anyway. No need to advertise that or to say anything that could be taken out of context.”
“What about the reference to a lawsuit?”
“Like Charles said. We had enough evidence to justify the TRO. The fact that they destroyed the proof before the TRO doesn’t change that. The Community will probably lose the $5,000 bond, but no more than that.
“You sound a bit worried. Don’t let them get to you psychologically. That is what this opening salvo is about.”
“You are very reassuring on this part of it, but what about the fact that we don’t have anything that will prevent them from completing the project?”
“Yeah, that is a concern. Listen, you want to have lunch tomorrow and talk about it? Why don’t we meet about 11:00? We’ll be ahead of the crowd wherever we go.”
“Sure, but I’m without a car on Tuesdays.”
“Yeah, that’s alright. I’ll pick you up a little before 11:00.”
“Thanks, see you then.”
And that was all that could be done tonight.
The more Joseph thought about Gil’s response, his apparent lack of concern – and Gil would certainly be in the crosshairs of any lawsuit – the more Joseph could relax. By the time he went to bed, it was not really on his mind. After all, one day at a time….
Tuesday morning was a bike ride to The Bee to visit with Mr. Franklin only a few minutes ride away.
Mr. Franklin was in his customary place, parked behind his desk with a fair number of pieces of paper scattered loosely in piles across his desk. After “Good mornings,” he was ready to get to the business at hand.
Joseph sat in the chair across the desk from him and proceeded to tell all of the facts relevant to the TRO on the solar panel farm.
At the conclusion, Joseph said, “Telling you the story as it is now, I feel like something is missing, like we got it wrong somehow.”
“Are you having second thoughts about whether you are on the right side of this issue?”
“No. No, it’s not that. Just something is missing.”
Don spread his hands in front of him. “There is not an ending yet. We don’t know who won. It won’t be decided until there is a judgment.”
Joseph was thinking of the brief visit with Jerry the previous afternoon as Mr. Franklin spoke. The concept of a winner and a judgment brought everything closer together.
“Yeah, that’s it. The way you put it is the way things are headed. There will be a winner, but there also will be a loser. Whoever loses will not change their mind about the issues. Whoever wins will be more adamant about their position.
“Why do there have to be both winners and losers? Why can we not find an answer that is better than winners and losers?”
Mr. Franklin assumed his paternal posture, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk and his hands rising together like a steeple. “That’s the way our judicial system works, son. A judgment is made. Somebody wins. Therefore, the other one loses.”
“That’s just it!” exclaimed Joseph. “Why does it have to go to court and lawyers argue over points of the law that may have nothing to do with the real issue here.”
“Alright, Joseph,” said the editor, leaning back in his chair. “What is the issue?”
Joseph relaxed back into his chair from where he had been leaning forward, literally on the edge of his seat. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”
Rephrasing it, Joseph asked the same question again, “So what is the issue?”
“Sounds like several issues,” replied Mr. Franklin, jumping into the silence. Counting on his fingers, he made a list.
“There’s the solar panel farm. There’s the Eagles Nest development. There’s the concern in The Community about the destruction of the environment. And there’s the question about how all of this growth will change Choctaloosa County.”
He was now holding up four fingers spread out on his left hand, his right pointer finger touching his left thumb. “Have I left out anything?”
Joseph was thinking about the conflicts between the four fingers, held up high and each pointed in a slightly different direction. Perhaps that was it.
Joseph held up his left hand, the four fingers side by side, all pointing in the same direction. “How do we make it look like this?”
Mr. Franklin looked at the hand with the fingers joined together from their base to their tips. “What is it that is going to bring them together?” he asked.
“Now that is the issue, the real question, isn’t it.” He said it as a statement.
The two of them talked a little while about the different people involved and their expectations: The Community, the investors, buyers at Eagles Nest, and the citizens of the county. There did not seem to be much overlap of what they might want.
A little after 10:00, Joseph thanked Mr. Franklin and headed home. Mr. Franklin had made a lot of notes as Joseph described events. It looked like he might have an article for his next edition.
Joseph felt a little more at ease than when he had left home. Nothing had been resolved, but at least now he felt like he knew the question.
continued