The New Guy at the CrowMac Creek Chronicle

       

         Howard sat down at the desk, moved some pens around, tore a page from a tablet, and then looked at me.
“You’ve been missing around here.” Howard scanned my face, then continued. “A lot has been happening here and you have been missing in action.” Howard stopped, stood and turned so that he could look out the window. He seemed to be drawn away from his conversation with me, and did not speak.
After a lengthy silence, Howard announced, “Isaiah and Michael left the paper.”
“What happened, Boss?” I had known that Howard had given them an assignment where Michael and Isaiah would address an issue from two sides, Michael from the left and Isaiah from the right.”
I could guess what had happened. Though Michael was a moderate, he still wouldn’t be able to discuss many of the hot issues that have been tearing our country apart. I had never been at the Chronicle when Isaiah and Michael were discussing their assignment, but I knew it would be an explosive environment.
“Michael met with Isaiah in his office to discuss, not only the issue, but what would be needed to steer a course toward reconciliation. At first there was discussion, but that discussion turned loud, then ugly with Isaiah screaming. Michael broke away and out of Isaiah’s office and into mine. Then he quit the paper.
Howard looked to me to see if I was following.
“What did you do then?”
“Well, I’d have enough of Isaiah and his bent anyway. Michael was not the first person who had been the target of Isaiah’s wrath, and the other employees were beginning to enter into verbal jousting as well. That had to stop, so I fired Isaiah.”
I just sat there mesmerized by what Howard was telling me, but my thoughts returned to what Howard was going to do with me after my dereliction of my duties, and Howard returned to that too.
Howard picked up his note tablet and placed it back on the desk, then he moved his pencil and pen so that they gave the look of balance to his desk. Then he looked at me.
“You’ve been AWOL for the last few months. No one heard of you, about you or from you, and that leaves you lacking in professionality. I know that I won’t be able to rely on you to get anything done, and that’s a problem for me.” He looked to me to assure himself that I was listening. “But,” he continued, “I got to thinking about running with you in Cross Country. I wasn’t as good as you. You were always winning, or at least finishing in the money. I never placed any better that fourth. But without me, Nick Miccio, or Frank Love, we would have never won a race.
I struggled with what he was saying and wished that he’d get to the point.
“This paper is very much a team, and you for all of the grief you’ve given me, are a valuable part of the team. I want you to continue to write, and continue being an advocate for improved writing in schools. At the same time, much of what you write is interesting, and well thought out. There is a fledgling market for the CrowMac Creek Stories you write, and I want you to continue with that. So I have decided to make you an editor for the paper. I did fill your position with another writer though, a new person in town. He says he knows you. You want to meet him?”
“Sure!” I felt great. The stress that had built up in me had subsided and now the curiosity of who Howard had hired as the new Entertainment and Events Reporter had grown to take its place.
Howard knocked on an office door and then threw it open. The person sitting at the desk was Gary Heil.

Back To Work At The Chronicle.

It’s been hot here is CrowMac Creek. The temperature peaked at 96 humid degrees and the sky was unusually overcast. The previous high of 90 degrees occurred in 1995. I have to admit that I’ve been grumbling to anyone who will listen about the warming trend, and that I’m angry about what our politicians are doing about it, which is nothing. But in CrowMac Creek, there are many who still do not believe that humans have anything to do with this, and they grumble more loudly than I can, so as it is said, the 
I started my day, as usual, walking Cheyenne. When I got off the roads, I unleashed her, and she  bounded up the trail, down the trail, and then, busting through the brush, she found that old skunk who responded by giving her a good shot. She ran back wildly, snorting and pushing her snout through the sand and dust.
I let her know just how I felt, which was just the same as in the past. On went the leash, and we didn’t communicate the rest of the walk. There was no fetch, no stick, nothing, and as in the past, she was broken hearted. When we arrived back at the cabin, I tied her to an outside faucet, sprayed her down, rubbed in some detergent soap, and rinsed her. She was ashamed and she hung her head, dropped her and it moved just enough to indicate it was still attached. I worked on her, but that gooey brown skunk spray remained. I tried tomato juice, but no dice.  I brought out the Arm & Hammer baking soda, which helped, but not enough. She was therefor held in solitary confinement on the porch the remainder of the day.
After that fiasco, I was a mess. I smelled my hands and I smelled skunky. I repeated everything I had done with Cheyenne with the same effect, but I had an appointment with Howard at the CrowMac Creek Chronicle, and I needed to leave, so I gave up, hopped into the cab of my old Nissan truck and took off.
  I was nervous about seeing Howard again. I knew that our longtime friendship had helped in the past when I had been derelict in my responsibility, but it has been months since I had checked into the Chronicle and I was nervous.
As I walked through the door, I noticed that I could smell myself, and as I traveled up the aisle to Howard’s office, I noticed others could too.
Howard stood menacingly in the doorway to his office stepping back only to allow me in. He closed the door, directed me to the chair, walked back behind his desk and sat. He looked directly at me in a way I had not seen before and stated, “Cheyenne found that old skunk again!”

CrowMac Creek and Summer’s End

Ever since Gary arrived in CrowMac Creek, I have been overwhelmed with friends wanting to visit, and I am very happy to have the company. There are so may things to do around here. We can head up the Mogollon Rim for hikes to overlooks, drive to Strawberry for a nights of entertainment, or even to the Natural Bridge just south of here. Sometimes I wish my father had purchased a larger cabin for my mother, but this is my home and it always will be.