It would be a down-home press conference. Edwina had sent email invitations to the Knoxville News Sentinel and to the one local newspaper, The Cherokee Sparrow, which had recently gone entirely online. She had called the local TV affiliates and followed up with emails. She had put up a few flyers in the neighborhood (wondering if that might be dangerous— were others like Feenie Huggins lurking nearby with more than hammers for weapons?) and some at Randolph Community College as well as the restaurant where she and Orville had had their tell-all dinner. Her pitch was: “Visit the First Solar-Powered House in Town! Educational Press Conference This Friday 4 pm. Don’t Let an Accidental Tragedy Be the Last Word You Hear About the Future of Alternative Energy!”
What about social media?” Orville asked. Edwina blinked. Her Facebook page had been languishing for two years. She was not “on” anything else. “You do it,” she said, poking her finger at her dimple, a recently revived childhood habit. Orville posted the event on his own page for 60 followers. Ted had promised to put it on Twitter, but said that it was an imaginary place and not to expect any results.
“Is this about Granny?” Kendall asked. “Not really,” Edwina said. “But we might have to mention something about what happened.” Edwina was studying the few paragraphs Ted had sent her. She was sure she could paraphrase most of it. That was one thing she knew about: simplifying scientific information for the public. She was not looking forward to answering questions about Mrs. Huggins. She decided she simply would not answer those questions.
Ted had taken off for Canada. He was sorry he couldn’t help with the event, he said. Orville, who had been expecting his brother to stick around for months, was hurt, but presented it as humility. “I’m not sure I can run this system without you, Ted. You’ve given us a new way of life. I hope we turn out to be worthy of it!”
“Don’t exaggerate, Orrie. I did spend a lot of money, but you can handle it! We’ll email!” The Electra-Glide moved slowly onto the street, then picked up speed. “Thank you!” Edwina yelled. The system had started up without a hitch. It had been producing electricity since mid-week. The computer on the electrical box read that they already had credits with the utility company. But then, it was that perfect time of year when the sun beams, but AC isn’t needed.
The day of the event, Edwina left the college right after lunch. She patted her laptop gently before locking her office. “Wish me luck, Placido!” She’d gotten a haircut for the occasion, shorter than ever. She had a new, blue outfit waiting at home. The familiar trace of formaldehyde in the air of the hallway seemed strange, and she breathed it in deeply just to make sure. She was between two worlds.
Her visit with her father had been disorienting. His wife Eileen had hovered. His daughter Alexa had avoided. Neither Edward nor Edwina brought up what he’d told her on the phone. He had talked instead about his past career, asked about hers. He did not seem on the verge of dying, but he was weak and unable to understand her unless she talked loudly. He sat in a wheelchair at the dinner table and complimented his wife on her cooking (sauerbraten the first night of Edwina’s visit, deviled chicken on the second), though he didn’t eat much of it. It was Paget’s disease of the bone, he told her. His skull was affected.
By 3 pm, cars were parked on both sides of the street and a small crowd murmurated on the sidewalk and in the Campions'front yard, which was where the presentation would be. Two ladders had been placed side-by-side so that Orville could climb one of them and point out solar panel details to whoever wanted to climb the other, perhaps to take a picture or video. By 3:30 a very young reporter from Knoxville had shown up and was already interviewing Orville. At 3:45 pm, Ben Stillman arrived.
Kendall, who was getting excited about all this but had been given nothing to do, ran up to Ben. “Are you Mr. Stillman from the store with the crutches? I remember getting crutches at your store when I broke my ankle. Do you remember?”
“I think I do!” said Ben. “Your grandmother was with you. That was when it was just me and Mr. Campion, before Mrs. Johnson worked there. I gave your grandmother a big discount, I recall. I am so sorry about what happened to her.”
Kendall wrinkled his nose hard. “People are saying she was a radical. A right-winger. I guess that’s bad, if it made her try to smash the solar panels. I don’t think she was so bad, but she did stay up at night. It’s weird not seeing her around.”
“Your grandmother had a cause that she felt strongly about. That means she had a lot of energy, like you, maybe. She CARED about something. It wasn’t the right thing that she cared about. She listened to the wrong people. But she was not a bad person. That’s my take on it, Mr. Huggins.” Ben had forgotten the kid’s name. “There have been many times in American history when LOTS of people cared about the wrong things. She was part of a great tradition.”
Ben was trying his best to comfort and inform on short notice. This boy was a bit lost, it seemed to him. Ben wasn’t sure if the Campions had taken him in or not. He folded his hands together in a knuckle-y prayer position and pushed them toward the boy. “Let’s watch this show together, OK? I’ll bet Mrs. Campion has some good information to share.”
— Macoff
What about social media?” Orville asked. Edwina blinked. Her Facebook page had been languishing for two years. She was not “on” anything else. “You do it,” she said, poking her finger at her dimple, a recently revived childhood habit. Orville posted the event on his own page for 60 followers. Ted had promised to put it on Twitter, but said that it was an imaginary place and not to expect any results.
“Is this about Granny?” Kendall asked. “Not really,” Edwina said. “But we might have to mention something about what happened.” Edwina was studying the few paragraphs Ted had sent her. She was sure she could paraphrase most of it. That was one thing she knew about: simplifying scientific information for the public. She was not looking forward to answering questions about Mrs. Huggins. She decided she simply would not answer those questions.
Ted had taken off for Canada. He was sorry he couldn’t help with the event, he said. Orville, who had been expecting his brother to stick around for months, was hurt, but presented it as humility. “I’m not sure I can run this system without you, Ted. You’ve given us a new way of life. I hope we turn out to be worthy of it!”
“Don’t exaggerate, Orrie. I did spend a lot of money, but you can handle it! We’ll email!” The Electra-Glide moved slowly onto the street, then picked up speed. “Thank you!” Edwina yelled. The system had started up without a hitch. It had been producing electricity since mid-week. The computer on the electrical box read that they already had credits with the utility company. But then, it was that perfect time of year when the sun beams, but AC isn’t needed.
The day of the event, Edwina left the college right after lunch. She patted her laptop gently before locking her office. “Wish me luck, Placido!” She’d gotten a haircut for the occasion, shorter than ever. She had a new, blue outfit waiting at home. The familiar trace of formaldehyde in the air of the hallway seemed strange, and she breathed it in deeply just to make sure. She was between two worlds.
Her visit with her father had been disorienting. His wife Eileen had hovered. His daughter Alexa had avoided. Neither Edward nor Edwina brought up what he’d told her on the phone. He had talked instead about his past career, asked about hers. He did not seem on the verge of dying, but he was weak and unable to understand her unless she talked loudly. He sat in a wheelchair at the dinner table and complimented his wife on her cooking (sauerbraten the first night of Edwina’s visit, deviled chicken on the second), though he didn’t eat much of it. It was Paget’s disease of the bone, he told her. His skull was affected.
By 3 pm, cars were parked on both sides of the street and a small crowd murmurated on the sidewalk and in the Campions'front yard, which was where the presentation would be. Two ladders had been placed side-by-side so that Orville could climb one of them and point out solar panel details to whoever wanted to climb the other, perhaps to take a picture or video. By 3:30 a very young reporter from Knoxville had shown up and was already interviewing Orville. At 3:45 pm, Ben Stillman arrived.
Kendall, who was getting excited about all this but had been given nothing to do, ran up to Ben. “Are you Mr. Stillman from the store with the crutches? I remember getting crutches at your store when I broke my ankle. Do you remember?”
“I think I do!” said Ben. “Your grandmother was with you. That was when it was just me and Mr. Campion, before Mrs. Johnson worked there. I gave your grandmother a big discount, I recall. I am so sorry about what happened to her.”
Kendall wrinkled his nose hard. “People are saying she was a radical. A right-winger. I guess that’s bad, if it made her try to smash the solar panels. I don’t think she was so bad, but she did stay up at night. It’s weird not seeing her around.”
“Your grandmother had a cause that she felt strongly about. That means she had a lot of energy, like you, maybe. She CARED about something. It wasn’t the right thing that she cared about. She listened to the wrong people. But she was not a bad person. That’s my take on it, Mr. Huggins.” Ben had forgotten the kid’s name. “There have been many times in American history when LOTS of people cared about the wrong things. She was part of a great tradition.”
Ben was trying his best to comfort and inform on short notice. This boy was a bit lost, it seemed to him. Ben wasn’t sure if the Campions had taken him in or not. He folded his hands together in a knuckle-y prayer position and pushed them toward the boy. “Let’s watch this show together, OK? I’ll bet Mrs. Campion has some good information to share.”
— Macoff
congenial. I hope nothing untoward happens - - I like the connection between Ben and Kendall, sweet - - Edwina just makes up her mind a lot of the time to not do this or that, not think about that or this, etc. - - I can't get that, it makes her seem . . . simple? But I'm happy for her enthusiasm about sharing some science & solar. - - I'm wondering how things are with Placida/o.
ReplyDeleteWhy would something untoward happen just because it happened to Ben when he was little?
DeleteI'm glad Edwina has some consistency! I like that!
Delete"She listened to the wrong people. But she was not a bad person." Not always, but so often true and almost never stated.............is Ted really gone?
ReplyDeleteWe'll hear from Ted again in the last chapter, probably.
Delete