Welcome to Yellow Spriungs!

Or welcome back, if you have experienced any of my written or oral stories before. It was 20 years ago when I wanted to write a Christmas story for family and friends. Having always liked Garrison Keillors fictional Lake Wobegon, I decided to invent my own town: Yellow Springs, set in Conestoga County, which is equally fictional, yet feels somehow, sometimes, to be very real. I used to have a web site for Yellow Springs stories, but those things cost money (who knew?), and Facebook doesnt, so you can search for Yellow Springs Stories on Facebook and, hopefully, my new page will come up, and if you click the links on the Facebook wall, you can get PDFs of older stories. The actual http address is a bear to type in:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Yellow-SpringsStories/327847317242600?sk=wall
May your holidays be filled with peace, and may you find time to ponder anew the mysteries of Christmas. - Bill

2011 William D. Kennedy kennedyw@whiteandwilliams.com

Hurry up, Danny, called Dorothy

Dauerditter to her husband. In a mocking, sing-song voice the tone of which asked how could you forget?, she added, We need to allow extra ti-i-ime. Oh, thats right, he remembered as he pulled on his winter parka. Those people. I thought they were supposed to be gone by now. The those people to whom Danny referred were a semiorganized group of out-of-towners who had arrived in Yellow Springs as part of a massive yet amorphic, Twitter-based global economic protest whereby socially-conscious interlopers encamped in the village commons of small towns and hamlets across the country. Habitate Yellow Springs introduced to Conestoga County a passionate, vocal, unfocused, ramshackle collection of unkempt, unshaven, long-haired demonstrators the likes of which the county hadnt been seen over forty years, and even then, not so much because although a lot of Yellow Springers grew up in the 60s, very few of them actually participated in the 60s. Dorothy remarked, I heard they got a Court order that they have to clean up and clear out before New Years, and, honestly with our tiny Police Department, its not like we really can physically force them out. Ill raise a posse, Danny muttered. The Dauerditters trip into town for the Christmas Eve service took nearly twice as long from four minutes to eight as they had to go around the large, cordoned-off area surrounding the protesters sprawling complex at Martyrs Park. Seemingly harmless at first-- and even a bit invigorating for the rather staid community -- the Habitate squatters had arrived in drips and drabs beginning in September. They pitched tents in the Park, and held up hand-painted signs expressing extreme opinions on a wide variety of unrelated social, economic, and political issues. Early on, Mayor Chet Chinkup approached the Habitate Yellow Springs group with curious courtesy. He organized Welcome Wagon gifts of food and the Catholic and Protestant Mothers Missionary Alliance donated coupons for local stores. The next day, a handful of Habitaters -- or Taters, as people began to call them -- used the donated bounty to buy paint and poster board, batteries and bullhorns, extension cords, space heaters, a generator, and, much to the disappointment of passers-

by and shopkeepers closest to the Park, absolutely no personal hygiene products. Autumn found the protesters chanting rhythmic slogans about a variety of diverse social, political, and economic issues. Thinking the Taters to be charmingly benign, Phoebe Flegelhoffer took her 10th and 11th Grade social studies classes to visit the encampment, using the meeting to talk about the Constitutional rights to assemble, to speak freely, and to petition the government. As days became weeks and fortnights, Habitate Yellow Springs grew from a handful of protesters, then to a dozen, then to a few scores, and finally, there were well over a hundred civil squatters in downtown Yellow Springs. As Martyrs Park filled, increasingly strident protest signs spread to graffiti on the parking lot. One of the Taters got a hold of a portable roadside advertising sign and a complete set of changeable plastic letters and numbers. Every few days, a new, eye-catching but sometimes obtuse slogan went up messages like HEALTH IS A RIGHT, NOT A BUSINESS to QUESTION AUTHORITY? to TEA IS A SPICE, NOT A PARTY, 1% IS NOT A MAJORITY, ABSOLUTISM IS ALWAYS WRONG, and dozens of other pronouncements over the weeks. The harmony between the Taters and Townies became strained as the costs for maintaining a minimum of social order and sanitation increased throughout the fall. Borough Council began meeting weekly to discuss the situation. Seemingly under the cover of darkness at night, the compound grew, with tents migrating out onto the Martyrs Park lot, into the street, and over to the sidewalks on the opposite side. The protest against the global economy cut deeply into the local one, as Conestoga County customers shied away from the entire downtown district, reluctant to have to deal with the random chaos. As the civil unrest increased, even the most sympathetic Council members found themselves questioning how long the community had to put up with this mess. Early in November, Felix Flegelhoffer asked, What on earth do these people want?!? Ive gone out there and talked with them, but I cant understand what they actually want from us! If their gripe is with the global-industrial complex, Ruth Ann Remington wondered, why dont they protest in Washington or at the U.N. or something? Why here??

3 Chet said that the leaders told him they picked Yellow Springs to protest the globalization of banking. But its more than banking that theyre up on arms about, Felix said. Its a whole mess of things, most of which have nothing to do with us. Homer Himmelglump changed the tenor of the debate. They dont bathe, he grumped. Ive called the County Health Department, and they say the Taters pose a threat the community health. Theyre trespassers, spat an irritated Sheldon Shuckover, which led his political nemesis, Lenny Whitebrook, to mutter, so much for forgiving those who trespass against us. They have a permit, Mayor Chinkup reminded. Homer persisted. Turning to the villages husband-and-wife police force, he asked Wendell and Miranda Wright, he whined, Cant you just toss em out? Mirandas eyes narrowed. No, Homer. Theyre people, not last weeks lettuce. You cant evict them as long as they have a permit. Chet said he had asked the Council lawyer to petition the Court for an order, but he told me it will likely take a few weeks for Court to hold a hearing and rule on it, and then they have to give the Taters a weeks notice, so it looks like this wont happen until after Christmas. Wendell added, The County handles public health citations and things like that, but cant we find a diplomatic solution without escalating the tensions? We dont want to wind up as the lead story on CNN. Ruth Ann Remington agreed. We need a calm, quiet, reasonable spokesman to gently ease the protesters into dispersing. Felix Flegelhoffer said, Chet, thats your job. Youre the Mayor. Chet nodded. I know Ive spent hours and hours trying to reason with them, but its clear they arent going to listen to anyone in official authority. Homer offered, Ill go talk to them me and my bulldozer will reason them away in about 20 minutes! Miranda Wright warned, Homer, dont make me arrest you again. Homer scoffed, I just had a little too much to drink that night. Wendell reminded him, We caught you revving your front end loader, trying to go up a snow-covered trail at Slippery Slopes at two in the morning! You had had way more than a little too much to drink. Enough, Chet said with a wave of his hand. None of us in this room is the right person to try to get through to these people. You know, he shook his head, I never thought Id live to say this, but we could really use a guy like Godfrey Swench right about now. *** The Reverend Godfrey Swench had been minding his own business back in the late spring when he got a call from his regional supervisor, the Bishop Bourne Stern, who had pinch-hit for Godfrey when he had taken an unexpected leave-of-absence the previous year. God, is that you? joked the Bishop as Godfrey picked up the phone. Anyone ever tell you your full first name makes it sound like youre an atheist? What can I do for you, Godfrey answered dully. The Bishop blustered, You can get your credits up to date, thats what you can do for me. In fact, you have to get your credits up to date! Godfrey wasnt sure what credits he was delinquent with, but his boss soon filled him in. Our records show that you havent earned a credit since you got out of seminary! I dont know how you could have missed this, Rev. Swench, Godfrey noticed the austere tone of voice that his boss now used. Bishop Stern then explained that because Godfrey was over 20 years behind on his professional accreditation, then for the second time in two years, he would have to step away from the pulpit, which was not something he really relished. Heres the deal in a nutshell: until you get current on credits, you are ineligible to work as a pastor. And if you want to keep your pension, you have

4 to get 20 years worth of credits between now and the end of the year! *** Godfrey didnt know what to do he even thought about throwing in the towel entirely. After all, he thought, the professional ministry had worn him out, what with people expecting him to have a pearl of eternal wisdom to convey in fifteen minute sound bites every seventh day. Yellow Springers expected him to be an expert on all things sinful without actually having engaged in any. He was expected to inspire the faithless, convert the inconvincible, and comfort the inconsolable. He was expected to be meak, mild, and open while at the same time being strong, courageous, prophetic, and doubtless. Maybe this whole credit problem was a sign from God to finally leave the profession and get a real job. Not on your life, Gilligan, warned his wife Trudy when he mentioned some of his musings to her. You got us on this island, and your pension in ten years is about the only way I see of us ever getting off of it! Trudy may have been more sensitive to career change because of the one shed been going through. Ten years ago, after their son Jacob started school, Gertrude Swench opened a modest catering business. At the high-water mark, it had grown from a solo-job she did in the parsonage kitchen to a 10-person business with two delivery vans and a website. But then the recession hit, and after three years of declining business, Trudy had had to close down for good last spring. She told Godfrey, I dont know what youre going to do to get your credits, but I know what youre not going to do, and thats throw away your pension! Godfrey fretted overnight. He and Trudy were nearly broke after paying Jakes college tuition and then with the loss of Trudys business. Bishop Stern was letting the Yellow Springs church take him off of salary since he was ineligible to work The next day, Godfrey went down to the Rectory at St. Wenceslas and knocked on Fr. Opus Magnus door. Opus commiserated with him, but then he came up with the perfect solution. You know that I teach a course on the History of the Church over at Oxthorn U., right? Well, that entitles me to enroll in one course its kind of a one-for-one program: teach a course, and in lieu of payment, they let you enroll in a course. Only Ive never enrolled in anything in the twenty years Ive taught there. You dont get paid? Godfrey marveled. What is a priest going to do with money, Opus laughed, especially in Yellow Springs?!? *** And so on July first, Godfrey left the payroll of the Yellow Springs Methodist Church and enrolled at Oxthorn University. In order to get the necessary course work done by years end, hed have to take a full load over the summer and fall semesters. He had expected to be limited to just taking religion courses -- and he did sign up for a couple -- but his outlook brightened when he got permission to broaden his course work to include a sampling of other offerings in the College of Arts, including Economic Influences on Behavior, Comparative Political Thought, and Motivating through Management. In August, eager for income, Trudy took a temporary position working for her brothers export business in Nova Scotia, and without either his wife or son Jacob at home, Godfrey moved into an apartment on the Oxthorn campus, which freed up the parsonage so that the church could offer it to the rotating stream of rental pastors that Bishop Stern sent to occupy the Yellow Springs pulpit. And so just as he did some thirty years ago, Godfrey rolled out of bed in the mornings and headed off to classes. At first, the undergraduates regarded him with reserve he was a living relic of yesteryear -- a walking monument to the past -- and he was hopelessly out of sync when he came to classes with a three-ring binder and loose-leaf paper instead of a high-powered laptop. But at Oxthorn U., Godfrey seemed to have been freed from the shackles of community expectations. He was used to being the person everyone expected to have all the answers, but as a semiancient collegian who was older than all his professors, Godfrey was just another student. Applying the maxim that no honest question is a bad question, Godfrey took full advantage of his access to young minds. A fulcrum moment came in his Christian Doctrines course when he had raised his hand to explain the nature of the Holy Trinity. Godfrey gave the same kind of explanation that he had shared countless times from the pulpit and in the Sunday School rooms of his church a brief, yet standard, orthodox explanation of an eternal mystery. He concluded by saying, The Doctrine of the Holy Trinity has been the bedrock of Christian theology since the time of Jesus himself.

5 Godfrey sat down, inwardly quite proud of his own ability to boil down such a complicated topic. And then the 2o-year old sitting next to him shook his head and let a pfft of disgust escape his lips. Professor Pepper caught the dissent, and asked, Mr. Keane, I take it you dont agree with Mr. Swenchs view of the Trinity? Heavens no! retorted Godfreys olive-skinned seatneighbor, about whose national origin and religion Godfrey suddenly began to wonder about. Then the young man offered an historical review of how the Church in the first three centuries sorted through several different theologies before becoming officially Trinitarian at the Council of Nicea in 325. Godfrey realized his neighbor was right. From that point on, throughout the summer and fall semesters, Godfrey deconstructed his world view, his politics and economics, and even major planks in his theological platform. Setting aside a lifetime of color-inside-the-lines thinking, Godfrey embraced the freedom to re-think old assumptions, and to look at both parables and paradigms from the back side. As he did so, Godfrey found that he believed fewer of the things he would have sworn he believed before, but now he could explain why he believed what he believed. And the new, open, genuine, gee-I-hadnt-thought-about-itthat-way-before Godfrey Swench quickly became something that he had never been in college or seminary thirty years earlier: popular. Study groups sought him out. Kids wanted to know what classes he was taking. He was invited to parties -- where he witnessed a fair number of the behaviors against which he preached for so many years. He lived among the collegians, but as an adult older than most of their parents, he really wasnt a collegian himself, and that dichotomy made him the go-to guy for students who needed the non-judgmental acceptance of a peer but the wisdom and guidance of a parent. Godfrey calmed the panicked, nursed the hungover, budgeted the broke, and commiserated with those whose hearts became broken or filled with regret. *** Mayor Chinkup didnt recognize Godfrey when the two met for mocha caf lattes at Moonglows shortly after Thanksgiving. The Godfrey Swench he had known was brown haired, dumpy framed, clean-shaven, and bespectacled. The man sitting across from Chet was thinner (they have a great gym here), grayer (I stopped using Grecian Formula), wore a neatly trimmed beard and moustache (I think Trudy will be surprised) and seemed to have perfect vision (I never knew that they gave clergydiscounts at the Laser-K place). Godfrey somehow, you look so so relaxed so I dont know. So different. Godfrey laughed something Chet had rarely heard him do in a long time. I am different! But you didnt come here to talk about that. Whats on your mind? For a fellow living among a generations worth of econnected, internet savvy, smart phone addicts, Chet thought Godfrey was woefully uninformed about current events occurring just a long bikes ride away from his bucolic campus. Chet explained about the Habitate Yellow Springs movement from when they arrived, to how they lived, what their protest messages said, how they grew, and the impact on the community. So Im not sure about this. You want me to talk to them about what? Godfrey asked, already thinking that if he met with the Habitaters, hed be less likely to talk, and more likely to listen. Godfrey, heres the bottom line: weve already gotten a Court Order to evict them on December 26th. And, by law, we have to do that with official police forces. I can either call in the State Police, Chet explained, knowing Godfrey would appreciate the towns perpetual reluctance to call official attention to itself, or we evict them with our own police force, which would be pretty difficult to do because we lost a third of the force. Godfrey nodded. The Dynamic Duo of Wendell and Miranda Wright used to be the Tremendous Trio of the Wrights and their boss, Zyrchen Caesar, a Greek migr who, it turned out, hadnt crossed the proper Ts nor dotted the proper Is on his immigration papers, made him an illegal Zyrchen Caesar, and he had to go back to his homeland. The meeting with the mayor gave Godfrey an idea. Each of the undergraduates in his course on Economic Impacts on Behavior had to do some kind special project. Godfrey had been exempted from the assignment because he wasnt working towards a degree, but instead was just getting his credits. Still, perhaps feeling empowered by his surprising success thus far, Godfrey decided he, too, would undertake a special project. Without telling anyone, he would go and live among the Taters. *** Late one December evening, Godfrey walked back into to the heart of Yellow Springs with a backpack, tent, and a curious

6 sense of the uncertain. The tired, disheveled Habitaters welcomed him without reservation. He found a space to pitch his tent, and he toured the compound under the glow of street lamps and a flashlight. His eye caught the portable roadside sign where the plastic letters had been arranged into two messages: BOSS: SIMPLIFY! and CHRISTMAS MEANS NOTHING! Godfrey asked a Habitater what the sign meant. The woman answered, It means we have too much modernization too many robots doing the kind of work that real people could do. Too many jobs have been lost, and we just need to simplify everything get back to basics The woman continued explaining her thesis for several minutes before Godfrey had a chance to say, No, I mean the other slogan. Christmas means nothing. Godfreys new-found guide explained that the Habitaters thought people in Yellow Springs were more interested in preserving their mythical version of a family and religious holiday than they were in righting the wrongs of the political and economic world. Christmas is a just a rampage of commercialism! The woman introduced Godfrey to some other Taters, and he realized that while the group had very little formal structure, the people he had met that night were probably the most influential throughout the encampment. Thanks to a neighbors generator and a borrowed laptop, Godfrey was able to complete his Oxthorn U. work from the Habitate Yellow Springs site. He returned to campus for exams, but otherwise, he ate and slept among the motley crew gathered at Martyrs Park. As the days grew closer to December 26th, many of protesters were gearing up for the eviction confrontation. Some people said theyd leave peacefully, but most of them swore theyd rather be arrested and jailed than voluntarily surrender their principles. Chet Chinkup came under increasing pressure to prepare for the confrontation on the day after Christmas. The impending conflict had cast a gloomy pall over the typically upbeat seasonal celebrations. Felix Flegelhoffer asked Chet, What about Rev. Swench? I thought you said he was going to talk to these people. He has, Chet replied, at least according to the e-mail he sends me. But Im really not sure what hes up to. I get these cryptic messages like making progress, whatever thats supposed to mean. By Christmas Eve day, the impending clash was less than 36 hours away. Miranda and Wendell Wright had no choice but to call the state police, and together, they worked out a plan for both a peaceful dispersion and, if it became necessary, several other, less attractive options. The forcible eviction would begin just minutes after midnight on the 26th. They had planned to encircle the Habitate site with police squad cars, but an e-mail from Godfrey convinced Miranda that to do so before sometime late on the day before the eviction deadline could spark a social conflagration. No one wanted that on Christmas Day. Still, it was with a deep sense of foreboding that Yellow Springers trundled off to the late-evening Christmas Eve services or Mass. By the time they exited the churches at midnight, Operation Take Back Yellow Springs would be less than 24 hours away. *** This Christmas Eve was the first time in the middle-aged life of Godfrey Swench, M.Div., that he did not attend a worship service. The substitute pastor sent to his church by Bishop Stern had been doing a serviceable job, and although Godfrey hoped to be reinstated after Oxthorn U. awarded his credits, he wasnt particularly anxious to return any sooner than he had to. Instead, long after Christmas Eve had become the wee hours of Christmas Day, Godfrey stirred. Having lived among the Habitate people for weeks, and having listened to them earnestly and without judgment, he asked to speak to his fellow campers. Bleary eyed and anxious about the coming confrontation, the Taters sat in a circle around a roaring bonfire that had been their primary source of heat, as well as their primary means of waste disposal. Godfreys finger doodled in the dry, cold dirt as he quietly spoke just a few words to his protest partners. And then, one by one, starting with the Taters who had been there the longest, they returned to their tents. *** The Christmas Day sun was still an hour away from creeping into the eastern edge of Conestoga County when Wendell and Miranda Wright picked up Chet Chinkup and drove into the village square to begin preparations for the eviction. What a way to spend Christmas, muttered the Mayor.

7 But as they came around the bend on Constitution Street and headed towards town, their headlights illuminated the strangest site: nothing. Absolutely no one was in Martyrs Park. There were no people, no sleeping bags, no tents, no trash, no barricades no anything. The only evidence of the protests long encampment were the smoldering embers of the extinguished bonfire and portable roadside advertising sign on which they noticed the letters had been rearranged: CHRISTMAS MEANS NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE. *** Several hours passed before Chet Chinkup could find Godfrey. He and Trudy and Jacob had reunited for Christmas at his cousins house. Chet asked, What on earth happened? How did you get them to leave? And not only that, but they cleaned everything up! What did you say to those people? The slightest hint of a wry grin crossed Godfreys face, but he demurred to all questions. Theyre good people, he explained. They wanted to be heard, and I listened. We all listened, Chet reminded him. I met with those people dozens of times ever since they arrived. I listened every bit as much as you! But if Chet expected any more of an answer, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, he found that Godfrey couldnt help but to revert to the role of a moralizing preacher, and poor Chet was a congregation of one. Godfrey quoted, Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and every mountain and hill made low. Broken spirits can become whole, and broken hearts can mend. The unforgivable can be forgiven. The misunderstood can be comprehended. The course of life lies not in our stars, but in ourselves. We can choose to hold onto past sins and grievances, or we can choose to be healed and move forward. We can choose the security of dull mediocrity or the adventure of happiness. Christmas -- the incarnation of the Divine into the human history -- means that all things are possible. The choice is ours. As Chet so often felt on countless Sunday mornings, he didnt understand what on earth Godfrey was talking about. Whats this have to do with the Taters? What did you say to them? Godfrey shrugged. I shared a quote from an ancient prophet: He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God. I asked them what their Christmas choice would be. And as you saw, they chose peace and reconciliation and hope for a happier future. With a pastoral smile, Godfrey showed Chet to the door. The question for you is, what do you choose this Christmas?