Introduction to Yellow Springs
Wise men speak because they have something to say;
fools because they have to say something. - Plato
Many years ago at Christmas time, I wrote a very-short
story The Last Child In Line -- that I then used as a
lengthier version of a holiday card. The first tale was based on
a song I had heard (For Christmas, by Noel Paul Stookey, he
of Peter, Paul, and Mary fame). The next year, I wanted to
see if I could write a completely original tale.
And so began 25 years in which an imagined community
of Yellow Springs has been created, grown, and changed.
Originally, I conceived of Yellow Springs as a bucolic, isolated,
largely-homogeneous, two-dimensional community, but just
as I have changed and grown over the years, so has Yellow
Springs. Conestoga County has become a full, diverse, multi-
cultural and welcoming community of people who, like me,
are just trying to figure it all out.
Some years tales have been simple, syrupy stories, but
others have explored themes such as adoption, childlessness,
deafness, depression, dementia, fear, forgiveness, gay
marriage, grace, gratitude, hope, joy, justice and injustice,
organ donation, pregnancy, protest, reconciliation,
redemption, sadness, and the space-time continuum.
After all these years, and as much as Id like to imagine
that my annual December story infuses the season with deep
meaning, I suspect it may just be that I am Platos fool,
writing merely because I have to say something.
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Foreword to Taurus Wonder
Every year, it gets a little more difficult for me to visit my
fictional village of Yellow Springs to see what story will
emerge, and this year, it has also been surprisingly hard for
me to leave.
Most years stories have involved a cast of many
characters, but this years tale focuses primarily on just two --
including someone who has appeared only in the background
in several prior stories: Father Opus Magnus from St.
Wenceslas Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps a bit odd for me -
- raised Protestant -- to share a story about a Catholic priest
but Taurus Wonder is, in fact, non-sectarian. Still, Im at high
risk of error, and I hope you will overlook the mistakes.
Everyone in Yellow Springs is entirely fictitious, although
they do seem very real to me. If, as you read, you think you
see someone you know well, thats not intentional on my
part. There is, however, one true root of this years story,
which Ill share with you at the end.
Best wishes to you amidst all you celebrate this season.
- Bill
2017 William D. Kennedy
wdkennedy415@gmail.com

Hey, Opie you hear about these Prayer Prowlers?
Marcus Magnus called to his cousin.
Father Opus Magnus looked to see what was on the
Searchlights webpage. Yes! Did they catch them? he
asked hopefully.
Almost, Marcus answered, reading, An alarm at
one home in Westernville was activated, but with the
bridge out, responding officers could not get to the
remote location in time to catch the burglars.
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So which faith did they steal from this time?
It was a double-header: Methodists and Muslims.
Ahh. So theyre going alphabetically. Roman Catholic
will be soon. I better ask some ushers to watch the parking
lot during Mass.
Marcus continued reading, Islamic cleric Iman
Ibrahim said he wishes the thieves peace, while
Methodist Interim Pastor Justin Spire urged full
prosecution. Marcus looked up, asking I thought your
friend Geoffrey was the Methodist reverend.
His name is Godfrey, Father Opus corrected him,
and youre a few years out of date. Hes still here in town,
but he left the pulpit. He works for a Foundation now, the
Richman Group. Theyre the group that donated the
money to complete the bridge after your Party shut down
the government this fall, Father Opus said pointedly.
Sounds to me like the Government saved the taxpayers
some money, and you still get your little bridge! Marcus
bragged. But about your friend Godfrey are you
allowed to quit being a priest?
Father Opus shook his head in resignation. He wasnt
a priest; he was a pastor.
I thought youre a pastor.
Father Opus sighed with strained patience. Im
ordained as a priest, and my job is pastor. Honestly,
Marcus, when did you last go to Mass,?? And yes,
Protestant clergy can choose other kinds of work.
You ever think about that? I mean, leaving the
priesthood? asked Marcus with customary carelessness.
 Father Opus glared at his cousin without dignifying the
seemingly insulting query. Honestly, Marcus, the things
you say!
Marcus looked at his cousin dumbfounded. Father
Opus threw up his arms, Sometimes I cant believe that
youre a public official!
Marcus ignored the remark and turned back to his
perusal of the news stories. Hey! Im mentioned in an
article about the bridge. Quote, Officials will gather
tomorrow for the ribbon-cutting to officially open the
new bridge over the Whiskywine Creek, reconnecting
Westernville with the rest of Conestoga County. Blah,
blah, blah about stuff no one is interested in -- and then,
heres the good part, Representing the Governor will be
former Yellow Springer, First Assistant Deputy Lieutenant
Governor Marcus Magnus.
Father Opus rolled his eyes. With Marcus, its always
about Marcus -- ever since the two of them were little boys
living next-door each born the same summer, sons of
twin brothers who married twin sisters. Father Opus
looked to see what Marcus was omitting from the news
report. Oh, I see thats the story of the bridge being out,
as if anyone around here didnt know it."
The old, single-lane, wooden, covered bridge over the
Whiskywine Creek had been blocked off for years after a truck
accident. Back when the bridge was first damaged, no one
expected it would take very long to rebuild it. One stop
shopping is what the brothers at the Ediface Complex
advertise: Ediface Wrecks for demolition, Ediface Specs for
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design, Ediface Techs for construction, Ediface Inspects for
review, and Ediface Insects for pest control on the wooden
structure.
But the project did not remain a local effort. The
Commonwealth stepped in and everything went awry.
Demolition, environmental studies, litigation, and design
debates consumed years. Then came the funding debacle.
Fighting between the legislature and Governors office all of
which were the same Party created gridlock, and the
spending bill never passed.
Without the bridge, the County has been divided. Folks
have had to drive all around up north by the Turnpike or all
the way around down south by way of the Lincoln Highway.
Both of the alternate routes tripled the travel time. The
unbridged Creek has prevented most Westies from making it
eastward for shopping, events, and concerts. Likewise,
Easties have stopped heading west for Fair Days, games,
auctions, or horse-drawn tractor pulls.
In time, folks on both sides grew unfamiliar with each
other. The Westies include mushroom farm workers, Amish,
and Leni-Lenape people with local roots going back 300 or
more years some of whom who didnt understand the
different accents and cultural values of the eastern side.
Easties are more suburban, and some viewed Westies as
backwoods and backwards.
In the kitchen of the Parish House, Father Opus said,
Well, even if it took a ribbon-cutting for you to finally
come visit, Im glad youre here.
Awww see? You do miss me! Marcus grinned.
 Its not that, Father Opus retorted. Its that I need Oh, how the cousins laughed at the memory of the
some help put up the Christmas Star! Lets get going before Grinch! Imagine a priest and a politician, laughing as
it gets dark! they drove through the woods, united in the joy of their
Every December, the St. Wenceslas parish illuminates common cultural heritage of watching forty-year old
the Lesser Valley with a Christmas Star -- a string of blue cartoon TV specials.
and white outdoor bulbs mounted on two-by-fours from
Felix Flegelhoffers Fair Value hardware store. When Almost there, Father Opus announced as they
properly constructed, the frame is shaped like a star with a bounced on gravel roads through pines and birches.
long descending isosceles spike. The temporary About time. This has taken forever!
astronomical illusion hangs from the side of the former fire
Itd been a lot shorter if the bridge were open, Father
lookout tower on the McGregor property, high above the
Opus reminded. Then he saw Martha McGregor ahead,
Whiskywine Creek, visible to nearly all of the eastern side
standing beside the road. There she is....
of the Valley.
Marcus saw an older, thin woman in an oversized, ratty
As Father Opus drove, he began singing, We Three
parka, standing next to some kind of odd, three-quarters
Kings of Orient Are He looked over his cousin
sized sculpture of an ebony, horned bovine.
expectantly, nodding for him to join in.
Father Opus rolled down the passenger side window
Eyes on the road there, Bing Crosby, Marcus rebuked
and leaned over to where Mrs. McGregor could see him.
him; when they were young, the cool kids never sang.
Hello, Martha! This is my cousin Marcus, back for a visit.
Father Opus crooned on, Oh-oh, star of wonder, star of Hes going to help me with the star.
bright, star with royal beauty bright, westward leading, still
Nice to meet you. Sorry I cant do it this year, Father.
proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.
To Marcus, Mrs. McGregor explained, New hip. Just got it
As Father Opus began verse two, Marcus complained,
a few weeks ago. Theres only ten stairs up to the lookout
For the love of God, Dopus! he cried, referring to his station, but thats nine more than I can handle just yet.
cousin by a childhood nickname that he knew was
But I see youre up and about now, it looks like,
unwelcome, can you please stop singing that song??
Father Opus complimented.
Ha! Tis for the love of God that I sing it! Dont you
Getting better, thanks, Father. I went two weeks
remember Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the
without going for a walk with Buddy, but now Im more
small, Was singing! Without any presents at all!
mobile. This little fella and I have a walk we do every
morning. Its part of my physical therapy.
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 It was at that moment when the statue next to Mrs.
McGregor moved. Marcus realized it was not a statue, and
not a cow -- but a very real, living, breathing bull a strong
beast connected to Mrs. McGregor by nothing more than a
loose rope tied to an even looser collar.
Marcus made an exclamation that seemingly violated
the Third Commandment regarding the Lords name. He
hit the button to roll up the side window, but Father Opus
stopped him. Calm down, Marcus! Youll frighten the
bull! Buddy is her pet.
Aww, dont worry about Buddy, Martha McGregor
said. Hes well-behaved. Not even a yearling yet. You
know the way up to the lookout, Father?
I remember, thanks.
As they drove ahead up a winding gravel driveway,
Marcus remained incredulous. A pet bull? Ive heard of a
pit-bull, but can you have a full-grown pet bull??
Apparently, you can, Father Opus continued as they
drove along the rutted driveway. She walks with him like
he was a dog. Rather amazing, I think. Hold on, he said,
throwing the pick-up into park and hopping outside, I
have to get this gate.
Soon, they drove out of the woods and into a small field
near where the fire lookout cabin sat on stilts. Were
here, Father Opus said.
The cousins snapped the light strands onto the boards,
then carried the wood frame up the steps to the access
panel in the underside of the tower. They pushed back on
the hinge and crawled up into the cabin. Father Opus
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stepped to the Creek-side and opened the window above
the oversized bicycle hooks that were screwed onto the
outside wall. He showed Marcus how they used wire to
fasten the star so the winds wouldnt dislodge it.
Marcus plugged it in. Hey it didnt light up.
They dont keep the power on in here anymore, Opus
explained, except during December, when the Power
Company donates the electricity for the star. I spoke with
them earlier today, and theyll turn on the electricity
sometime after midnight. But I checked all the bulbs before
we left.
Marcus stepped through the floor panel and onto the
stairs when he suddenly stopped. The bull! Marcus
exclaimed.
What?? Father Opus asked, but then he saw Buddy
the Bull -- four feet tall and four feet on the ground --
standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at them and
the opening in the floor.
Whats he doing here?!?
Oh, my Lord, Marcus look! Father Opus cried as he
looked out a window. Over there -- the gate! Its open! I
didnt think to close it after we drove through. Buddy must
have got out of his bullpen and followed us into the field!
Marcus shut the floor panel -- not at all sure whether
bulls could climb steps. What do we do now?
Father Opus reached for his cell phone. Ill call over to
at the house. But Father Opus cell phone had no
reception, not even one measly bars worth. Worse, neither
did Marcuss phone. No phone -- no Wi-Fi; thats western
Conestoga County for you.
Great, Marcus moaned. Now what??
Father Opus opened the floor panel again. Shoo! he
called, but the bull did not shoo. Marcus opened a
window and loudly yelled for help.
Save your voice, Father Opus suggested. Were
miles from anyone. Lets just sit here, quietly -- maybe the
Buddy will lose interest and we can run over to the truck.
And if the bull stays at the bottom of the steps?
Then, Father Opus responded with typical
sanguinity, we shall remain at the top, at least until Mrs.
McGregor looks for Buddy in the morning.
The Magnus cousins settled in. The cabin was ten feet
square with waist-high windows around all sides. Inside
were two rustic, wooden chairs, four olive-green woolen
Army blankets, and a cupboard cabinet. Lets see whats
in here, Marcus said hopefully. Great. A bag of trail
mix.
So we wont starve to death, Father Opus quipped.
Nor shall we die of thirst, Opie-Dopie, Marcus smiled
as he pulled a rectangular, silver-tipped, leather-covered
object from his left parka pocket.
Marcus! You a flask of alcohol to a star-hanging??
Not not a flask Marcus smirked as he reached
into his other pocket, two flasks!
The cousins spent the first hour checking on the bull,
but Buddy barely budged. And you, know, Marcus, after
dark, even if he moves away, we wont know where he is.
Can bulls see in the dark, like deer or raccoons?
I dont know, Father Opus conceded, but they have
eyes on the side of their heads, so I think they have a wide
field of vision. I dont think we want to startle him by
trying to run to the pickup truck.
Marcus grunted his agreement. They watched the sun
paint the clouds a deep purple and red. For a while, the
cousins just sat on the chairs -- not much to do, really,
when youre stuck in a cabin on stilts.
At times, they peaked through the floor panel, but
Buddy was still on guard. Once, Marcus used his cell
phones flashlight to peer down, only to find the baby
bulls seemingly-raging red eyes glaring back. In the
darkness, the cousins snacked on trail mix, and after a bit
of coaxing, Father Opus consented to wash it down with a
parsimonious sip from a flask.
No sounds. No light. Just stillness and silence as the
suns rays grew thin.
So tell me more about the life-and-times of the First
Assistant Deputy Lieutenant Governor, Father Opus
asked. Marcus talked of cocktail parties, power-breakfasts,
and he gave a political diatribe about how the opposing
party was being obstreperous while his own majority
partys factions were each jockeying for more power.
Father Opus listened patiently, noting that for all of
Marcus detailed insights into the cloak-and-dagger
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machinations of modern politics, not once did he say what
he was actually doing to perform the functions and
services of civil governance.
Father Opus laid one of the blankets on the floor and sat
down with his back against the wall. Come join me, he
said, spreading another two blankets on top of them and
balling up the fourth as a pillow. He mused, This reminds
me of when we used to camp out in the yard on summer
nights.
Marcus took a swig from his flask and handed the other
one to Opus. Hadnt thought of that in years.
That started them talking of their boyhood together in
Yellow Springs laughing at memories of the games they
used to play, kids they used to play with, and pranks that
Marcus pulled -- and always got away with.
You remember that time we pulled the pins from the
heavy door to the 8th Grade math class so it tumbled over
in the middle of a test?
We?!? Father Opus protested, that was all you!
Yeah, well I told Sister Dorcas that it was your idea --
for a science experiment!
The cousins burst out in laughter again, as Marcus
yearned, Oh, Opie the things I used to do and then
blame you for!
Father Opus leaned forward and raised the floor panel
to look down, but they immediately heard the rumbling of
a baby bull snorting and stumbling to its feet. They sat
quietly for a while longer. The sun had set now, and the
darkness made the mood more reflective.
Marcus broke the silence, asking, So, do you really
believe everything that youre supposed to as a priest?
Father Opus had his eyes shut, and for a moment, he
thought about faking being asleep. This was the kind of
question that parishioners never asked you, and which,
perhaps, you never asked yourself. The proper answer was
yes, I do, but Opus was never good at lying. There are
things that I might feel better about if they changed, he
said quietly. But I suppose its like your Party platform:
you agree with most of it, but you sign up for all of it.
Marcus reached across and clinked his flask against the
one on in Opus hand. Good point. Then he said, I
dont know how you can sit in a confessional and listen to
strangers brag about what theyve done.
Its not bragging, Marcus.
It is when I go to Confession! Marcus laughed.
Father Opus joked, Youre the reason they cant post
the Ten Commandments at the State Capitol -- if you ban
lying, stealing, and coveting in a building full of
politicians, it creates a hostile work environment.
Marcus laughed, even though he had heard that one
before: My cousin Opie: a priest who quotes George
Carlin Im impressed.
The Magnus cousins lost all track of time. Was it 8:00 or
after midnight -- who could tell? They were saving their
cell batteries for an emergency which seemed reasonably
likely to occur, what with a thousand-pound brute
blocking their exit. The cousins sat huddled closely for
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warmth, alone in the cabin, ten feet off the ground in a fire
tower overlooking the Whiskywine Creek.
After a few more sips from the flask, Marcus nestled his
head onto his cousins shoulder and said softly, I havent
always been very good to you, Opie. Im sorry.
Despite the previous levity in the room, Father Opus
was not unprepared for the admission. Quietly, he said, I
know.
Marcus could have been referring to any number of
obnoxious, thoughtless, self-serving acts like how he
always tackled Opus extra-rough when they played pickup
football in the front yard, or how Marcus scissored a big
hole in the back of Opus Altar Boy robe, or the time he
substituted Crest toothpaste for Opus Brylcreem hair gel.
Marcus could even have been referring to thousands of
things he had said even now, in their adult years -- that
were intended and usually succeeded in raising his
own profile at Opus expense. But somehow, sitting in the
cold, still darkness, Opus just knew what that Marcus was
talking about was Mary.
Mary Margaret Mooney grew up with the Magnus cousins.
They were childhood friends, although Mary was always a
closer friend to Opus than Magnus. In High School, Marcus
tried to impress Mary with his abundant and popular
prowesses, while Opus would make her laugh as they shared
a quiet confidence between themselves. Mary talked to Opus
about anything and everything -- of hopes and dreams, of
plays and books and songs. She even talked to him about
boys. But Opus never talked to Mary about his romances real
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or imagined because they both knew this full well, although
neither ever talked about it -- because Opus loved Mary.
But life is funny sometimes, and not always in the ha-ha
way. After high school, Opus lived at home and studied
journalism at Oxthorn U. while both Marcus and Mary enrolled
at Agnus Dei in the City. Opus and Mary connected on breaks,
and he visited her in the City. The torch he carried was still
burning brightly when he learned Marcus and Mary were
dating. And that they had gotten engaged. Opus was stunned.
How could Marcus betray him like that? How could Mary have
fallen for such a cad?
Opus couldnt wrap his head around it all. He retreated
into a month of reflection, prayer, and meditation from which
he emerged to enter seminary to become a priest. That fall,
Marcus suddenly broke off the engagement and bolted from
the County, beginning a life of law and politics from which he
rarely returned. He never spoke to Opus about what had
happened with Mary. Marcus folks moved away, and in the
twenty-plus years since that time, Marcus managed to keep
his infrequent visits with Opus short and superficial.
Mary went on to earn her Ph.D. in perioperative nursing.
She married a literature professor at Oxthorn U. an agnostic
of Protestant descent. They moved away, but she came to
Mass at St. Wencies one last time, sitting in the back pew
before receiving Holy Communion from Father Opus.
I knew you were in love with her, Marcus admitted,
without even uttering Marys name.
True. Pause. Silence. Were you?
Evidently, my dear cousin, I was more into the chase
than the actual relationship. I was an absolute jerk. And
worse -- part of why I chased her to begin with was
because I knew you wanted to.
Opus knew that. He had known all along thats what
happens when youre raised as twins with your cousin,
twin sons of twin brothers and twin mothers. You just
know things between each other. But he had been waiting
a long time to hear Marcus admit it.
Marcus continued, And then, the more I got to know
her well, then I just didnt care about anything other
than being with her.
Quiet. Stillness.
Finally, Opus asked, So whyd you break up?
I was scared! Marcus confessed easily. I didnt
deserve a girl as good as her. She wanted a good, steady
and monogamous man. And I knew I wasnt any of those
things.
After more time, Opus said, She was really hurt.
I know, Marcus said disgustedly. And the crazy
truth is: Mary is the only woman Ive ever really, truly
loved.
Me, too, Opus conceded.
Yeah, but my list of candidates is a lot longer!
Marcus tried to joke.
You have battered the Commandments, Opus
acknowledged.
The quiet returned.
Eventually, Marcus added, I went to her once it was
years later, when I heard she was getting married. I had to
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apologize for how badly I treated her. It was unforgivable,
but, incredibly, she said she forgave me. Go figure.
A gracious woman, Opus uttered.
And, Opie, I know I always knew how badly I had
behaved. I just didnt like facing it.
None of us do, Opus agreed.
And I am decades late in apologizing to you, too.
Marcus continued, describing himself via colorful
adjectives and nouns. He concluded with, This is why Ive
stayed away so much. I think he paused, I think Ive
been afraid to have this conversation. I knew how hurt you
were when I dated Mary, and more so when you saw that I
hurt her.
Another pause. More silence.
Arent you supposed to tell me what to do now? Like
some penance or something, Marcus asked.
This isnt a confessional, Opus said plainly. Then he
took a sip from his flask. Quietly, he said quietly, To
answer your earlier question: yes I did once think about
leaving.
The priesthood, you mean? Because of Mary?
It was while I was in seminary, before I took my vows,
but after you broke up with her. I thought about pursuing
her and going back to being a journalist or something
anything, just to be with her.
You woulda been good together, Marcus guessed.
Maybe. Maybe not. But instead, I took my vows and
never looked back. I suppose I could have become
something else but Id have become someone else, too --
and I have been me, now, for a very long time. And Im
okay with that.
Silence. Stillness.
Then Opus heard Marcus clink their flasks again. To
Mary, Marcus toasted quietly.
To Mary, Opus barely whispered, then took a sip.
Quiet. Peace. Stillness. Silence.
As Marcus closed his eyes one last time, unable to resist
sleep, he asked, You remember whats carved on the back
outside wall of the chapel at Cardinal OMeara? he asked,
referring to their high school.
Its still there, Opus answered. From the Jewish
prophet Micah, Opus recited, What doth the Lord require of
thee?
Marcus finished, But to do justice, to love kindness, and
to walk humbly with thy God. Then, before falling asleep,
he murmured, Stay humble, Opie.
You, too, Marcus, Father Opus said gently, you,
too.
The sun was peaking over the eastern horizon the next
morning when Marcus heard his cousin urge, Wake up!
We have company!
Marcus was cold and stiff and sore and could barely
arise, but he saw that Father Opus had already been on his
feet. Marcus looked out the window and saw Mrs.
McGregor walking calmly, side by side with Buddy the
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Bull, heading away from the fire tower steps. The cousins
heard footsteps, then the floor panel opened, giving way to
Police Chief Miranda Wright and two officers.
Thanks, Father, Chief Wright said after introductions
were made. Wheres the stuff?
What stuff? Marcus yawned, still cringing at the
approach of day.
Up there, Father Opus pointed at an opening in the
ceiling where a panel had been moved away. If you stand
on a chair, you can look inside. To Marcus, he explained,
the power came on in the middle of the night. With the
glow of the lights, I had trouble sleeping. I noticed that
panel in the ceiling. I thought there might be something up
there we could use, so I stood on the chair and looked.
Chief Wright asked, And thats when you found the
Prayer Prowlers cache of stolen property?
Opus shrugged, as if anyone could have done so. To
Marcus, he said, Can you give me a hand with the star
again?
Did it fall down overnight?
No, Chief Wright answered, grinning at Father Opus.
Your cousin here-- she nodded re-shaped the lights
into the shape of a 9-1-1! Someone saw it and called us.
Thats how we knew to come out here now.
At noon that same day, officials gathered to cut the
ribbon on the new bridge. Chief Wright pulled in just
before the ceremony was about to begin. She found Father
Opus and Marcus. Weve recovered everything the
victims reported, plus some other items they hadnt know Im going to weave this into my Christmas Eve
noticed were missing. We got fingerprints and some DNA, homily.
too. We know who did it, and our officers are on the way Oh? Godfrey inquired, and what might be the
out to get them. All thanks to you, Father, she tapped message?
Father Opus, who blushed. Im not sure. Maybe something about the healing
Mayor Ruth Ann Remington gave opening remarks to power of confession -- of getting things off your chest. Or
the assembled dignitaries, the crowd to welcome our about how we have to take every opportunity to build
special guest, a former Yellow Springer, First Assistant bridges to the people we dont really know or understand
Deputy Lieutenant Governor Marcus Magnus! or agree with.
Marcus stepped to the podium, but not in the Godfrey nodded. Not bad. Or, he winked, maybe its
photogenic, tailored suit and overcoat that he had brought that you discover precious and valuable treasures at
with him to Yellow Springs. Instead, he was scruffy-faced, Christmas if you can just put up with a little bull.
wearing the same jeans, sweater, and parka that he wore in
the fire tower. Before last night, he would never had
appeared in public so disheveled, but today, he just didnt
care about being the handsome, chisel-jawed politico.
Today, he was just Father Opus cousin.
May this modern feat of Colonial engineering,
Marcus said as he raised the ribbon-cutting scissors, help
us to bridge the gaps between the citizens of this great
County. Then, sounding far more local than political, he
added, God knows, we can use more bridges between
people these days.

That night, Father Opus met his pal Godfrey Swench for
bread, cheese, and holiday schnapps at Harry Cs pub. He
talked about the past 24 hours, saying that the overnight in
the overlook had inspired him. Im not quite sure how,
Father Opus admitted to the former Methodist cleric, but I

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 The Extra Point
As I mentioned in the Foreword, everyone in Yellow
Springs is a figment of my tortured little mind. But I did have
an adventure somewhat similar to Marcus and Father Opus. I
was on the roof of a small, one-story farm house removing
leaves and branches for a community service project in
college. When I looked down, I saw a bull standing loose in
the backyard where our ladder was! My work-partner and I
hadnt seen the beast when we ascended, nor had the half-
blind, near-deaf octogenarian woman on whose roof we were
working mentioned the presence of the beefy brute! Every
time my we tried to descend the ladder to exit, the bull trotted
over, and wed scamper back up.
Eventually, we pulled up the ladder and moved it to
where we could safely descend. Turned out the bull or
maybe it was a steer (because he wasnt at all aggressive)
he was, indeed, the womans pet, and every day, she put a
rope on him and took a walk along the rural roadway out in
West Buffalo Township, Union County, Pennsylvania.

If youd to try another Yellow Springs Tale, feel free to go to

Facebook, type in the search bar Yellow Springs Stories, and
youll find links to the previous 25 Christmas stories.
Thanks for reading!
- Bill

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