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Location: Albuquerque, New Mexico, United States

I'm a writer, a historian, and a drama leader in my church.

Bumpersville, USA a NaNoBlogMo novel

Bumpersville is about to find progress in 1960's America, but will the farmers of this sleepy cross roads go willingly?

Chapter 7, Breaking Ground - rewrite

The summer of 1959 became the culmination of George Pembrook's two years scheming and labors. It was hot and muggy but a decent breeze wafted through Happy Valley and kept the faces of the men standing in the sun cooled. They all looked out of place. A tent stood out in the middle of the field with charis and podium for the dignitaries another tent that held the caterers and thier sterno dish warmers in buffet style. Gathered around the spot where the ground breaking was to happen on Petro-Chem's new processing plant where five men, all in black wool suits and looking quite uncomfortable. The gold painted shovel lay against the speakers podium and the first shovel of dirt was to be dug by the man who had made it all possible. Four other shovels, these silver painted also lay astride the podium, one for each of the other note worthy gentleman to each dig thier ceremonial divit. George Pembrook had made it into the "noteworthy" circle and he now stood chatting with the others.


It was a small affair and sparse crowd as well as the food had been imported from Charleston. The only locals in attendance where Bill Hilcock, the man who's land the plant was going up on and his son Jim. They stood off to the side in thier coveralls and where only there out of curiosity and not part of the official party. Workmen from Douglas and Son's Construction stood off to the side with thier equipment, impatiently waiting for the birds to complete thier ceremony so they could get to the real buisness of moving earth.

"Benton," George called out from the crowd of company dignitaries, "you ready for all of this?"

"George!" Benton and George shook hands vigorously. "You remember my wife Theresa?"

"Of course I do," George nodded at Theresa. "How is the flower shop going?"

"Very well, thank you. I think it is to a point where it will return our investment when the time comes," Theresa said with a smile then shot Benton a wry look.

"Good, good. Wouldn't want our new Chief Engineer delayed in transfering," George smiled.

Benton nodded in agreement then changed the subject. "I see you wrangled a spot in the lime light."

"Well, being the man with the plan and all, though if you've looked at thier list of management picks I didn't get the plant manager spot, though I've still got some palms I can grease," George said and grinned.

"I see the locals all turned out to watch the spectical," Benton said and nodded towards the Hilcocks.

"Yes, they're real interested in the future of this place, aint they?" George chuckled. "That's the Hilcocks, I suppose of any of the locals they'd be the ones most interested in what we're about to do to thier land."

"It is a nice spot to build on, we got plenty of road access from here and it's just a short drive from where the town will be. Have you seen the plant blue prints?" Benton asked.

"Yeah, gonna have a nice office area for the administrative staff and a large enough physical plant to process roughly three hundred thousand gallons of chemical what-have-you per day. The fleet of transport will be kept here in a garage on the back lot, oh about five hundred feet from where we are to the property boundry by those trees over there."

"Is the land ours?" Benton asked.

"No, Hilcock wouldn't sell for what Petro-Chem was willing to buy, so it's being leased from what I understand. I suppose it hedges both bets though the company is libel for the construction but I suppose that is just common sense from the looks of these people," George nodded towards the Hilcocks once again. "He's set pretty nicely though for the next fifty years so he's not getting off bad an' he signed away any claims to the land until the original agreement time runs out."

"He's prolly the valley's one progress minded farmer, somewhat of a rarity I'd imagine from the folks we've dealt with through the Realty," Benton shrugged.

"They'll get used to it soon enough, they don't have a choice in it really and can blame the State214 project if they are of the mind to, we're just here to take up the advantage," George smiled.

"You think they're finding scapegoats?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. It's human nature to find something to blame, aint it?"

"Unless they've got real grievances against someone," Theresa added and shot Benton annother look.

"Everythings been above board an' the locals where given every chance to buy up the excess from the project, don't know what they would have to complain about," George added quickly.

"Have you heard any complaints?" Theresa asked George.

"Well, nothing that we could do anything about or needed to be concerned with, you know, gossip and fear mongering amongst a few of the rabble rousers in the neighborhood. You know, prices too high, the Realty company having an inside edge on the sales, unsubstantiated stuff mostly."

"Did the Realty have an inside?" Theresa pressed George.

"No, just the capital to buy it at the new valued pice per acre. If the farmers had gotten together and pooled thier money they probably could have done the same thing."

It was Benton's turn to shoot Theresa a look and she fell silent.

Sensing the discomfort, George attempted to mollify Theresa by adding that the locals had shown themselves to be resistant to any change regardless of what the outcome and the percentage of airable land lost was less than one percent per farmer.

"Well, I suppose I'd better get ready for the ceremony," George stated and walked back to the group of dignitaries.

"I don't like this much, Benton," Theresa said once George was safely out of ear shot.

"Honey, it's all been above board, really," Benton added.

"No, what I don't like is that these people sound like they don't want any of this here," replied Theresa.

"The Hilcocks don't seem to up in arms over this construction, he's made off pretty good it sounds like," Benton said.

"And this is where you want us to move to?"

"This place will be growing here in the next few years, these farmers will only be a fraction of the population once this place takes off; it's going to be a whole new community, the locals will be part of it but only a very small part of the whole. Plus, I don't think all are resistant, just a few," Benton said.

"It's just the thought that some people would not want all of this that bothers me. If I had known we might be stealing the land from the farmers along the road I'da put a stop to it from the beginning," Theresa folded her arms and looked away from Benton.

"Honey, there was nothing under the table, honestly. Some can't see it yet, but they will only benifit from it in the long run. Town's have a way of growing and providing services that these people have had to rely upon other towns to supply. It can't be anythig but a benefit to everyone in the end," Benton protested.

"And what was our benefit?"

"What do you mean," Benton looked at Theresa askance.

"Our own gain from George's scheme? Partnership in the Realty that would control the land and the sales or rents. And our own financial involvement with it, that's what disturbs me the most."

"Look, I apologized for the second mortgage and I thought we settled all of that months ago," Benton said and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, it is exactly that and everything else leading up to this right now."

"Look, I made a mistake but this will set us for life if things work out the way they ought to. It was a gamble, but so was the flower shop and look at it now. It's booming and you've taken care of it well. I wanted to take care of us and our future children for the rest of thier lives and I thought this was worth the risk." Benton shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a dirt clod.

"I know you had us in mind when you did it, but I also think you've been drawn into this scheme a little to far by George. He's a nice guy and all, but I don't think he has you or these people here in best interest, he only has himself and his power hungry dreams," Theresa looked over at the group huddled around the shovles.

"I don't think it is as bad as that! He's got his ideas and they are do or die sometimes. He's done well for both of us and lots of others; even these people will benefit from it eventually if they just allow it to happen. Give the guy some credit."

"I don't doubt that he's got a bigger picture in mind, but I don't like the way you've been drawn into all of this and me along with you. All the wrangling you had to do to just get the offer for this position was enough to make me think it was a bad idea. It wasn't like you," Theresa said.

"Well, I didn't like doing that stuff either, but it was that or leave it up to chance or George to bring it about and I didn't want to do that. Nothing bad came of it and I made some company contacts that may pay off later on in my career. More pay, a better office, more responsibility, I mean that's what a career means isn't it; progress? I wouldn't have done any of that had it not been for this scheme and the land would have just been grabbed up by someone else, it's not like we came down here and swindled the people out of it, the State had already done that." Benton looked around and the rolling country side and the traffic that was going to and fro along State214 a few hundred yards away.

The ceremony was about to begin and the men in the suits were jockying for the best spot next to Mr. Townsend while the company photographers hovered in front of them like humming birds feeding. Benton watched as the comic opera of positioning played out and George ended up on the far right flank of the group. It was the game one played in a company to look the best and to be seen to perform the best. Though he looked a little deflated at his placement George nonetheless was being pictured with a few of the big-wigs and the press release would at least have his name under the photos.

Yet Benton was glad to be standing there on the periphery all the same. He wasn't a go-to man in the mold of George and never would be.

"I'm just glad we're on the brink of something big and hopefully good for the both of us and our children," Benton looked up at Theresa. "George can have his aspirations, but you gotta admit he could have included anyone in his plans, but he came to me and I'm kinda glad he did."

"I know, I just wish I felt better about it and all of those distasteful things you had to do just to get a few crumbs tossed at you like treats. I'm not mad at you or George, I'd just prefer a better way to go about it," Theresa said.

"Who's to say what is the right or wrong way to go about any scheme. I suppose the word itself says something of it. And you're right, it probably could have been done differently; for my part I didn't like greasing all those palms, but I'm still hoping it comes out in the wash in our favor."

The first divit of dirt was shoveled by Mr. Townsend and then the others in turn followed by photos as the group shook hands. The ceremonial dirt having been tossed, the men of the construction company then descended upon the taped out plot and began arranging themselves for thier work. While the trucks and the backhoe were being driven to the spot the rest of the crowd retreated to the comfort of the food tents far enough away from the construction noise to give some privacy.

"Hungry?" Benton asked.

"No, but I suppose it is expected that we join the rest for the meal all the same," Theresa said and grimmaced.

"Yes, it is expected, so be on your best behavior," Benton wiped his forhead with a kerchief and then added, "please?" and smiled.

"Of course, honey!" Theresa blanched. "I may not like this whole thing but I'm not about to ruin any of our collective future either," she said as she straightened Benton's tie and swept some dandruff from his shoulders.

****

"I s'ppose that be it, eh?" Howard Hilcock said and scratched his temple. The two of them stood for a moment longer and watched the construction crew tear into the staked out plot.

"If'n we had that backhoe 'bout forty years ago, takin' care o them tree stumps in what we cleared of the back forty would been a cinch," Jim said as the backhoe dug its first chunk of ground and dumped it into a waiting truck bed.

"Sure, but it wouldna been as fun as usein' dynamite!" Howard said and grinned. "What's word from the grocer?"

"Nuthin' new, that new service station is goin' up 'bout three hunderd feet from Petey's station, so he's gonna have competition even afore he gets his station full runnin'."

"I'll wager ole Petey aint too happy 'bout that," Howard replied.

"Dun know, if he was under that illusion it's his own fault," Jim said.

"Mebbe he'll do alright anyhow, he's still got the grocery an' the Post Office, he aint gonna starve," Howard said and picked his teeth with his fingernail. "I'm headin' back to the house, you an' Sally comin' over fer dinner?"

"Yeah, be there 'bout four thirty, Sally wants ta hep mom cook," Jim said as the two men walked back to thier pickup trucks.

Jim reflected a moment on the changes as he crossed the bridge and headed up the valley, more than he'd seen in the first fifty years of his life in an area where stagnation was as inevitable as the seasons. This stretch was still the same, but the top of the hill was changing almost daily as some new edifice broke ground or neared completion. The cross roads was no longer just the Post Office and the grocery. The new Conoco service station catty corner to Pete Middlebrook's Happy Valley Market and Produce was going up rapidly and Middlebrook's two gas pumps were not even pumping yet. Houses were going up like weeds at the top of the hill, four to Jim's count with a fifth just being layed out. The extra traffic along the road was new enough. No longer could one just drive and be alone in his thoughts for now there was a constant wizzing of oncoming traffic and the companionship of a car always in the rearview mirror.

"Kids can't drag down this road any longer," Jim said to himself as he crested the hill and into the world of change. The four way stop at the junction of State214 with State3 was becoming the source of indignation, both for the residents and the travelers upon State214. Some had been in the habit of just running the sign if they saw no one coming the other direction and where chaffing under this minor restriction, not to mention the constant traffic that effected pulling back on to State214 from any side road.

Jim pulled into the Happy Valley Market & Produce and parked. The parking spots where almost full and it appeared to be a bustle of activity within. Willie and Robert where at thier usual spots, a puddle of spit gathering near Willie Shank's boot. Jim nodded at them and walked into the store. Pete Middlebrook was there admiring his new aquisition, a Pin Ball machine and his children where tustling over who would get next game. Lucy Middlebrook, Pete's daughter was behind the counter tending to the line of customers, most of them strangers. Jim headed to the red Coca Cola cooler, dropped his quarter in, slid the bottle out from the keeper and closed the lid. Popping off the top Jim nodded to Lucy and headed back out into the heat.

"Fellers," Jim said as he settled into his spot, always to the right of Willie and took a swig of his coke.

"I hears they started down there on that chemical plant," Robert said.

"Yep, Dad an' I watched thier ground breaking ceremony and left. Was more interested in the construction crew anyhow, they started with the backhoe. I could just see Dad's eyes light up when they brought in the heavy equipment," Jim said with a smile.

"Was that bastard Pembrook they?" Willie asked and spat.

"Yeah, think so, so was that Sheilds guy an' a bunch of people from theys company," Jim replied.

"You missed all the excitement," Robert said.

"Who's cow came up missin'?" Jim said and grinned.

"Oh, more exciten' than that! Some yahoo comin' down Happy Valley Road din't understand the concept of the stop sign an' clipped ole Hostetter in his Chevy truck. I thought ole Frank was gonna beat the tar outta that lil twerpish lookin' guy drivin' the other car. We's standin' here when it happened an the other feller was beside hisself when he learned we don't have a repair shop. Ole Willie told 'im if his majesty wants to hold out and wait, one might be built in the next year or so," Robert laughed.

"Where's the car now?" Jim asked.

"Ole Hostetter towed it to his house an' was gonna fix it in his barn. Weren't bad, just a dent in the fender an' a flat tire, but the look o fear and worry on this feller's face was priceless. I guess he thought we were gonna sell him into slavery o somthin'!"

"Lil bastard, I thought he was gonna cry!" Willie laughed.

"Was nice of Frank to fix the fellers car," Jim said.

"How else was Frank gonna pay fer the damage done to his pickup? He weren't doing it fer charity, that guy gonna pay somethin' fer the trouble for sure. Teach him ta drive through the valley again, bastard," Willie spat.

"I saw that them houses is going up pretty quick. Know who's gonna use 'em?"

"Naw, no idea. That construction crew blew into town two weeks ago an has been doing one house after the other over there. I'm supposin' they belong to them people with that plant of yours." Robert said.

"One thing fer sure, they don't belong ta no one from the valley, outsiders for sure," Willie groused.

"Means people's gonna be blowin' into the area from all over soon enough, lots of 'em when they get that plant started," Robert said.

"Place is changin' for sure," Jim said softly.

All three men had changed since they were wild youngsters driving up and down Happy Valley Road in thier fathers pickup trucks at breakneck speeds. They had seen life come and go and each had married a local girl, built a new farm carved out of the remanents of thier families property, and lived as anyone else had for successive generations in the Valley. Thier equipment had changed but slightly, they still farmed as any other farmer did, with a combination of deisel equipment and bare hands with help of thier children. They had seen the years come and go with the variation that is hard to discern while living it.

Their growing up in the valley had been typical with each finding his own characteristic way of approaching life. They used to call Jim the saint as his penchant for always seeing the bright side of things made him the opposite of Willie who was forever the "glass is half empty" pessimist. They were the ying and the yang when together. If anyone wanted a fair assessment of a situation they need only ask Jim and Willie for thier feelings and opinions which would invariably be the exact opposite of the other. Jim didn't have a rosey picture of life, but he didn't have Willie's doom and gloom outlook either. He looked at what was going on around him and filtered it in a way that left room for the unknown to occure.

Much of his outlook he had picked up from his fathe. Howard had that rose colored glasses approach to life where no obstical was too much to overcome. Jim could at least see when something was coming out poorly and make a turnabout whereas his father would refuse to aknowledge the grey lining to the silver clouds above. In the long run, however, even his father's rosey outlook had kept the family strong and suited for any and all contingencies. His mother, Eunice, was somewhere in between and was always the balence in family discussions.

Jim's outlook also served him well during the war. Older than most when he volunteered for the Army in 1941 serving in the 36th Infantry Division, he rose to the rank of Sergeant and commanded a platoon in the 1st Batallion, 313th regiment. War came to him personally when the 36th participated in the landings in North Africa then later in Italy. It was in the winter battles for the German Gustav Line and Monte Cassino 1943/44 that Jim's outlook was tempered by the drubbing the Germans gave the 36th Division. Called to storm across a river and up heights overlooked by exceptional German defenses the 1/313th regiment went from a force of six hundred soldiers in a weeks time to one hundred and fifty men left standing. It was here also that Chas Willford, another local boy who had grown up with Robert and Willie, was drowned as the platoons struggled to cross that short but deadly river under fire.

Jim's platoon was whittled down to nothing until the remanents of the battalion were withdrawn from their foothold on the enemy side of the Rapido river. Jim himself had been wounded in the foot and had a close call with the onset of gangrene. Casualty clearing was hampered by night time operations across rocky terrain. Not unitl three days later was his wound attended to and a quick bandaging at that. His foot was saved, but his army days ended and he was sent home. He still favored the opposite foot whennever he walked and it gave him a sort of stilted appearance, as if the world tipped and slid to the right with each step.

Willie and Robert also eventually made it back to Happy Valley as well as many other of thier former school mates. A few like Chas Willford were never seen again. Life had continued on as normal in the valley and those whose wives and children had been left behind continued to work thier farms. Jim still had his temperment, but he and the others were changed by thier collective experiences in war.

"You thank they's gonna build this whole area up?" Robert asked Willie.

"We aint seed the likes of it I imagine. Gonna be more people crowding this place afore long."

"Might not be too bad, maybe someone build a theater an' give our kids something to do 'stead of drivin' us crazy or beggin' to go to Charleston," Jim replied.

"Work, that keeps them yougin's from rabble rousin'. Put a theater here an' yor gonna see the work lapse as everone just lays about and does nuthin'," Willie spat. "Let's hope it don't come to that."

"Better not tell your kids about Pete's pin ball machine then," Robert laughed.

"Willie Jr. you'll get his hide whooped if I catch him up here goofin' off," Willie grumbled.

Jim laughed and watched as a young woman walked out of the grocery with two young children bounding after her, each cradling a coke bottle as if it where something precious. Downing his own coke Jim belched and set the empty bottle down in the bed of Willie's pickup. The sky was starting to turn as dark storm clouds rolled in from the east. "Storms comin'," he said.

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