Back When the Sky Was Blue

“Back When the Sky Was Blue”

It was early June of last year when the sunrise in the East first seemed to last longer. The morning newspaper listed the daily weather forecast and the times for sunrise and sunset. It was easy to tell when it came up in the morning because the colors were intense and beautiful when it eased its way over the ridge east of the city. Once it cleared that ridge the sky slowly turned blue and the day was underway. I’d first noticed it on a Saturday but didn’t think much of it until I noticed later that same day the sunset came early and it was just as intense as the sunrise had been. It wasn’t just the low angle of the sun lighting up the clouds. The colors were enhanced by dust and particles in the air.

The summer heat pushed the warm air down and created what meteorologists called a thermal inversion. It kept the dust and any other particles from cars and factories close to the ground and the surrounding mountains kept it locked over the city. That meant a lot of people coughed or had trouble breathing. I was certain that, to them, the colorful morning and evening skies weren’t worth the trade-off.

Through most of June the sun came up a few minutes earlier each day and the colors lingered a little longer. Even after the Summer Solstice the colors still lasted well into the morning. When sunset was officially around 7:30 PM the sky would start to show its color around 5:00. That was when I started to read about it in the paper and hear about it from friends. The sky was colorful and beautiful even when it wasn’t supposed to be. There was a lot of speculation but I had a pretty good idea of the cause.

The coal-fired power plant west of the city had been a political football for years. Some people said, “Leave it alone, the power is cheap.” Others cried, “Make them clean it up!” Some people just brushed it off saying, “It’s only a problem in the summer.” But a growing number of people shouted, “Shut it down and go with solar!” I was part of that crowd.

Activism had been part of my youth, whether it was working to promote civil rights or clean up the environment. But activism comes easier to a young person, before career, family and life in general get in the way. That’s what had happened to me. Marching in protest slowly gave way to simply cursing at the evening TV newscast. And now in retirement so many of my rants and opinions ricocheted off the living room walls but rarely left the room.

Our prolonged sunrises and sunsets continued and by late July they had merged into one day-long riot of orange, pink and purple. The beautiful blue skies of summer had disappeared. What had started as a local curiosity had become a national news story. Maybe it was a longing for my youth or just reaching a breaking point, but a voice inside me said it was time to do something. Earlier conversations with several friends, fellow retirees, started to turn into an idea. Despite my gray hair and tired, old muscles a feeling of rebellion, or at least a senior version of rebellion, came over me.

The patio at the golf club was usually the place that Joe, Gary and I would meet after a round or sometimes just for a drink. It was a place where we’d sit together and solve the world’s problems in the time it took to kill a pitcher of beer, but when I stepped on to what was normally a shady spot overlooking the sunny golf course everything looked different. The colorful haze that blocked the sun also made the patio look dark and when I sat down at a table along the railing and looked out over the course it looked like it did at sunset. I wondered if Joe and Gary had played since the blue sky had disappeared. When I’d called them to meet me I hinted to them that I was working on an idea that I needed their help with. When they asked me for details I just said, “Let’s wait until the beer is in front of us.”

Phoning ahead to reserve the table was essential to make sure we’d be away from the other members. This was going to be the kind of conversation best kept to the three of us. I was no sooner seated when I saw Joe walking toward me and Gary a few steps behind. We shared hellos but before any conversation could begin Joe looked out at the course and growled, “My God, Dave, can you believe all this? Who can play golf in the dark?”

Gary chimed in, “Yeah, all the dues we pay and you can’t see your damn ball when you’re out there.”

“Well,” I started, “I share your anger and that’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you guys. I have an idea that might fix this problem with the sky but I’ll need some help.” When I saw our server approaching I added, “Let’s get our beer first.”

When each of us had filled his glass I said, “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. Feel free to jump in whenever you want. “I’m sure you guys have read the same things in the newspaper and watched the same TV news as I have. Our perpetual sunrise blending into sunset has become a national story. You can say what you want about the summer thermal inversion but anyone with a brain knows what the real problem is.”

“Yeah, Dave, we all know.” Gary answered, “It’s Allied Power. That damn plant never stops belching.”

Joe added, “They’ve been a problem for years but nobody’s ever been able to do a damn thing about it. They’ve won every battle someone’s brought their way. Look at the Downwind Neighbors group. They’ve taken Allied to court a dozen times and every time the Legislature shoots them down.”

“It’s that jerk Pearson,” Gary snarled. “He’s so deep in the coal lobby’s pocket that he can’t see daylight.”

I couldn’t help but add, “And neither can we.” My attempt at dark humor only brought the slightest hint of smiles to their faces. “So I’ve been thinking. If so many people have tried for so long and nothing has worked, maybe it’s time to take a different approach, something kind of behind the scenes.”

Gary shook his head. “Good luck with that. Pearson has a knack for knowing what Downwind is going to do before they do it.”

“I know,” I answered,” but that’s because they’re too visible. They make sure they get in front of every camera and microphone possible, and Pearson and his cronies in the legislature see them coming a mile away.”

Joe swallowed a sip of his beer and asked, “Okay, then, what’s your big idea?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it big but it’s definitely an idea. And if we pull it off Pearson will never see it coming.”

Again, Gary was skeptical. “Yeah, what can we do that all the activist groups can’t?”

“First of all, let’s realize something here. We may not be a group but we’re still activists, or at least we will be if we do this. We’ll blend in with the kind of people that support Pearson.

Joe growled, “Yeah, Republicans.”

“No, I’m talking about the overall demographic; older not younger, white not minority and well dressed not ragged. We drive nice cars and we play golf. Like it or not we look like three of Pearson’s cronies.”

Joe smiled. “Man, I think you just insulted us.”

Gary joined in. “Yeah, you make me want to grow a beard and wear jeans and sandals again.”

We paused to order another pitcher and when it was on the table and our server was out of range I continued, “Okay, here’s what my plan looks like. The whole thing is built on observations of Pearson. I’ve been watching cable access coverage of the legislature and believe me that’s not exactly “Must See TV”. In the midst of all the tedious blather a very attractive brunette caught my eye.”

Joe looked over at Gary. “Dave’s easily distracted.”

“No, seriously, I noticed that at every session and at every event this woman was never far from Pearson’s side. And the little smiles and expressions they shared weren’t what you’d call businesslike.”

Gary smiled and looked at Joe. “Hey, it sounds like Dave has been digging up some dirt.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, I agree but what’s it got to do with cleaning up the air?” His question was directed at both of us.

I looked over my shoulder before I continued explaining my plan. “Look, you guys, if you would have seen what I saw, their flirtatious little smiles and their constant togetherness, you would have come to the same conclusion I did.”

Gary leaned closer and asked, “Which is?”

“Well, in my opinion, State Representative Ralph Pearson, family man, pillar of the community and God-fearing deacon of his church, is fooling around with a woman half his age.”

Both of my friends were silent for a moment. Finally, Joe said, “And I take it that’s your idea for a plan to get Pearson to see the light on standing up to Allied Power.”

Before I could answer Gary interrupted. “So seeing two people flirt and proving there’s something sexy between them are two very different things. What’s your plan?”

“Okay, here it is. Since Pearson uses his political power to hold back Downwind Neighbors and to keep Allied happy, we’re not going to go head to head with him. We’re going to come in the back door to get to him. I really believe there’s something going between him and Angela Stratton, that’s her name by the way, and I want to leverage that to finally make him do the right thing. That’s why he was elected, or at least that’s what he promised to do.

My plan seemed to surprise them and they simultaneously grabbed their mugs and took a long slow drink. I waited for their response and Gary went first. “I’ll be honest, Dave, your idea sounds intriguing but it’s more like a plot for a TV detective show, not for three retired guys.”

Joe added, “And it also sounds kind of like blackmail to me.”

“When I first thought of this whole thing I wanted to make sure I knew what the legal boundaries were before we made any kind of move. “It isn’t blackmail unless you ask for or receive money or something of value. All we’re asking is for him to stand up to Allied and give us back our blue skies.”

Gary leaned back and resumed his role of skeptic. “You have this idea to get to Pearson and you have this woman’s name. I’m still not hearing how things are going to work.”

It was time to get to the details. “Okay, here it is. First of all, I checked the government website and Miss Stratton is listed as a part-time member of his staff but it looks like it’s become a personal thing. I’ll take Pearson and you guys take turns watching Miss Stratton. I have her address. Believe it or not she still has a landline. I found her in the freaking phonebook!”

Dave’s level of interested seemed to have increased. “I’ve heard a lot about criminal and divorce cases where someone’s cellphone records were used as evidence. Maybe that’s what her landline is for.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I said, enjoying his sudden enthusiasm.

Predictably, Gary was cautious. “I hope you’re not talking about tapping her phone line.”

“No, of course not, and there’s no need to. We got lucky because now we have her address and from what I can tell it’s a very nice neighborhood.”

Gary shook his head. “I’ll just say again, this doesn’t sound like an activity for three old, retired guys.”

I’d expected more than a little resistance from them but I was ready. I stood up and gestured toward the red orange sky and the empty golf course. “Guys, this is why we need to do this.”

I was surprised when Gary the skeptic said, “If we’re going to finish working out our plan we better order some food to soak up the beer.”

Over the next hour the plan, which I’d nicknamed “Operation Blue Skies” came together. We agreed that I’d be responsible for attending as many public sessions of the House as I could. When a session would end I’d wait in the parking lot and watch for Pearson. When he’d drive away I’d follow him. I knew it would mean a lot of tedious trips to his house, his country club and every other time he’d be alone in his car. Sooner or later, he’d head toward Angela Stratton’s house, or at least that was my hope. Joe and Gary would alternate driving to her house and parking in a discrete spot with a clear view of her garage and front door. Neither Joe’s Audi nor Gary’s BMW would look conspicuous in her posh neighborhood. All three of us would have our cellphones to take photos or videos of Pearson’s arrivals and departures. We assumed if there was any kind of frolicking going on it would be in the afternoon. After all, a good family man would be home every night for dinner with his wife and kids. And as far as our own home lives, our wives had gotten used to our frequent get togethers for lunch, golf and beer. Hopefully our plan wouldn’t take too long.

Operation Blue Skies was launched on a Monday for a reason. The romantic couple would have been separated over the weekend and would be eager to see each other. At least that’s how it worked in the movies. For the first few days I’d waited for the House to adjourn and then followed Pearson all over town; to the barbershop, the gas station and even his kid’s school. What I’d fantasized would be the exciting life of a private eye was nothing but tedium. Gary and Joe had the same experience. Angela Stratton usually pulled into her driveway around four or five o’clock and rarely left after that.

On Thursday things changed. From my usual vantage point in the visitor lot I saw Pearson leaving early. I grabbed my phone and got a video and time stamp of him. I carefully followed him like I’d done before but this time I was excited when his route headed toward Miss Stratton’s neighborhood. The closer we got the more sure I was that something was about to happen. I called ahead to Joe and described Pearson’s car to him. When the good Representative turned on to her street I kept going straight. On the video Joe showed us the next day, we saw Pearson pull into the woman’s driveway at about two o’clock. Her garage door opened and she was waiting for him. He pulled his car in next to hers and before the door closed we saw Pearson kiss her on the mouth. Joe’s patience was rewarded at four o’clock when the door opened again and the couple shared a long, full-body embrace and kiss. Joe had kept the video running until Pearson backed out and drove down the street.

The three of us sat our corner table and watched the video over and over again. There was a definite feeling of triumph as we watched and talked about our next step. We agreed that the videos we’d recorded would be enough to put in front of Pearson. We also agreed that since the project was my idea I would be the one to do it.

The House wasn’t in session on Monday but I sat in my car and watched as Pearson, dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, came out the back door and walked toward his car. For the first time since I’d come up with my plan I felt nervous. I’d parked directly across the aisle from him and I arrived at his car at the same time he did.

“Mr. Pearson, can I speak with you for a moment please?”

He let out a long sigh. “I’m in a hurry. Call my office and we’ll see if there’s some time available.”

I took a step sideways to block him from opening his car door. I had a strange feeling that I was in control. “It’s about Allied Power and the sunset that never ends.”

Pearson’s irritation was obvious. “Oh come on, don’t you Downwind people ever stop? I’ve made my position on that very clear. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

“If I said “Angela Stratton”, would that change your mind?”

The color drained from Pearson’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His nervousness emboldened me. “Okay, Mr. Pearson, here’s the deal. You have thirty days to make meaningful progress, in full view of the public, to stop Allied’s pollution or a little video of you and Miss Stratton will be leaked. Imagine how your family will feel, and your church. And Miss Stratton.”

“That’s blackmail,” he growled.

“No it’s not. Look up the definition like I did. And besides, once everyone knows it won’t really matter, will it?

Late autumn is a great time to play golf. After Gary’s tee shot soared into the blue sky he turned to me and said, “It’s nice to actually see where my ball lands.”

Joe grinned and asked, “So what’s our next little senior spy adventure going to be?”

I tried to hide a smile. “Glad you asked. You know that developer that’s trying to buy the club?”