Another Revision

It was no use trying to hide. Crazy Alice had spotted Margaret fair and square. Margaret sighed. She knew she would acquiesce to her demands. Crazy Alice had a way of doing that.

Alice had received her endearing moniker for an abundance of reasons. She was most famous for strong-arming her neighbors into performing random tasks. These missions would hold no benefit for the crazy woman but she would make them sound as if they were necessary for humanity’s survival until you gave in and agreed to assist. She was a sweet, older woman who had once been the city’s first female council person and she parlayed that recognition for her various ‘favors’, but everyone agreed that she’d gotten more eccentric with each passing year. It was getting hard to keep track of the numerous incidences where her name didn’t come up. She’d gotten lost in the woods on more than one occasion, harkening great community efforts to find her. There were her many weird activities, like dumpster diving on occasion (“you wouldn’t believe what people throw out!”). And she ran around muttering to herself, often with nonsensical statements being made audible.

“There are too many lights, you know!”

“Rare spiders are a blessing.”

Aside from dropping off her son, Aaron, at school and doing the usual errands, Margaret had much research to do. The city of Allamount was holding an important hearing in a few weeks and Margaret signed up to be one of the speakers. Writing her speech had caused her much consternation, as so much was riding on it. In addition to this extra project she had taken on, she still had her own, regular job to do, thankfully from home. Now Crazy Alice had arrived to increase the workload.

“Good morning, Margaret!” the small grey hair lady yelled as she waved. She was wearing one of her signature purple track suits as she hurried her way over to Margaret’s front porch.

“Hello, Alice, what have you got for me today?” said Margaret with a wry smile.

“Oh, thank you, dear. I’ve just got a small box for the PTA Special Projects Group. Would you be so kind?”

Margaret wasn’t that active in the PTA but Jessica, the mother of her son’s best friend was. She supposed it wasn’t the biggest imposition. Aaron would be getting picked up from Jessica’s house later anyway. Margaret was frequently delivering packages to Jessica for Crazy Alice these days.

“I see that you signed up to be a speaker at the hearing,” Alice remarked as she was leaving. “That’s wonderful. I look forward to seeing you there!” Her eccentric neighbor was off to harass another neighbor into performing more of her random tasks.

The small enclave of Allamount was surrounded by a lush forest. Abundant wildflowers bloomed in the spring and summer, bordering the wooded area like a fragrant bow. It was an often-overlooked source of beauty for the residents but it added to the charm of Allamount, as a contemporary city nestled within this rustic, untamed region. Because it was an old growth forest, the land contained abundant wildlife and had several unofficial hiking trails. But there was a substantiated rumor that this natural area was under threat.

The Phora Corporation, a company that manufactured paints and coatings for industry, was a recent newcomer to the city of Allamount. Their arrival had brought forth a much-needed boost to the economy. When they moved into the long-abandoned hospital on the edge of the city, near the forests, it had been transformed into a state-of-the-art factory with corporate offices. In a short period of time the Phora Corporation had become a huge fixture in city government. Because many of their employees had relocated from the bigger cities up north, a housing boom revitalized the abandoned homes and buildings that had gone to ruin in the decades previously. The corporation had contributed to the city by building playgrounds, donating to the local university, and building a new wing to the main hospital. But now they were interested in expansion and were threatening to buy up the forested lands to build additional factories and a corporate park for their partners.

Margaret knew the city government would be reluctant to fight the giant who had made their dying town viable again. She was also worried that many of the residents who loved the natural areas were hesitant to speak up about losing their spectacular, but unprofitable, surrounding woodlands. The fight would be difficult but she was determined to find a solution that would stop the bulldozers from destroying what nature had taken thousands of years to build.

That afternoon she drove over to her friend Jessica’s home to pick up her son. Jessica waved at her through the window as she opened her trunk to remove the “small box” Crazy Alice had assigned her. It was rather heavy and Jessica had to hold the door open for her. She invited Margaret in for what had become their weekly coffee-and-cake afternoon.

“Another Crazy Alice delivery?” laughed her curly-haired friend. “They’re probably more art supplies. I think she gets these donations from the Phora-ners” Jessica was using a term many of the residents used to describe the often younger, more affluent newcomers.

“I think she believes that because I work from home, I’ve got loads of time on my hands to do all this running around for her,” said Margaret.

“No,” said Jessica. “She’s got assets around the whole city doing her bidding. I just saw Hank Peterson at the garden store yesterday. She convinced all of those Sunday morning chess players to plant weeds in public spaces this weekend. Weeds! They just go along with her because, well, you know how she can be.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one being strong-armed,” laughed Margaret.

“Oh no, she’s even got the younger ones involved. You know Delia, my daughter’s friend?” Jessica’s daughter was 16 and had a friend who was known for being a social media maven. “She’s got Delia helping her with some ‘high-tech issues’, like how to use her phone to take a picture. She’s enlisting a whole new generation.”

The friends continued to laugh about the ‘recruits’ Alice had enlisted. Margaret had to admit she enjoyed the hour or two she got to spend with Jessica each week. For a short duration each Thursday they sat and just talked, taking a much-needed break from their busy schedules. It was a routine that had developed out of the weekly deliveries her eccentric neighbor had thrust on her.

When Margaret and Aaron returned home that early evening, she got to work poring through the copies of government documents she had made at civic offices. She was determined to find better locations for the corporate park Phora wanted to build. A few petitions were drawn up that she hoped she could shore up support for. Several revisions of her speech were drawn up as well.

The next day, Margaret drove during the hour she normally allotted herself for lunch, trying to find some reliable signatures for the initiatives she had created. As someone who worked from home, Margaret had created a disciplined routine to ensure that she wasn’t distracted by the hundreds of different things that could keep her from getting her required tasks done. She would spend one hour and only one hour trying to get her neighbors to sign papers asking Phora to build elsewhere.

As she passed the city square, she found Crazy Alice standing by a ladder as Dave Hutchins nailed a small box to an abandoned utility pole. Mr. Hutchins was one of the professors at the university. He was normally a no-nonsense man who rarely smiled. Margaret laughed to herself and shook her head. Jessica was right, Alice had minions across the city.

Margaret wondered if she could get Alice to use her influence, with the diverse list of people she had in her clutches, to sign her petitions. Perhaps she would get some payback for the many ways Margaret had helped her out in the past. The next time she ran into Alice she brought it up.

“I’ve always loved your ideas about re-zoning that awful old car-part warehouse,” said Alice as she looked over the papers. “And I agree with using Lot 42 as an alternative factory space. It’s truly a smart idea. I’ll definitely sign your petitions.”

“I was hoping you could help me get more signatures,” Margaret asked. She held out a few copies she’d made for Alice. Alice’s mood changed from her perpetual optimism to being perplexed and somber.

“You know I’d love to help but I just don’t think this is going to work,” she said as she waved around the proposal. “I’ll do what I can, but you know, this isn’t really, my thing”

“If you like my ideas why won’t you help me?”

“I tell everyone about your ideas!” the old lady said in earnest as if that was all that was needed. She walked away with copies of the petition Margaret was sure she would forget to have people sign.

“You tell everyone, but you won’t get people to go on record opposing Phora,” thought Margaret. Her heart ached inside. Acres and acres of spectacular forest were going to be ripped down and no one would help her. It was going to be almost impossible getting people to attach their names to something that appeared to denounce the Almighty Phora Corporation and their efforts to better the city.

She had put much internal hope in getting Alice to help her. If she wanted to get signatures she would have, pages and pages of signatures. Alice seemed to love the forest as well. She had spoken at length with Margaret about it and she seemed to think it was worth saving. She would have to accept her answer for the time being. Maybe Crazy Alice would come through in the end, anyway.

One day she spotted the purple adorned woman leading around a group of Phora-ners with binoculars and expensive cameras. They looked like hikers, wearing backpacks and sun-shielding hats, but they were in the heart of the city. Instead of circulating her petitions, she was conspiring with the enemy. It looked to Margaret that Alice’s consolatory words were just her way of placating the neighbor who consistently dropped off boxes for the PTA. Crazy Alice wasn’t helping her because she was working against her.

Margaret began to cry. There seemed to be little hope. She decided to stay away from everyone for a while. She felt betrayed and alone.

She went over to the edge of the city to clear her thoughts and ended up in the one place where she always felt alive and clearheaded. Unfortunately, the Phora Corporation had other ideas for her place of solace.

She got out and walked, listening to the sweet sounds of amorous birds calling to one another. She inhaled the crisp air tinged with the scent of evergreens and moss. Margaret sat down on ground covered in pine needles and old leaves, took out her notebook, and completely rewrote her speech.

**********

On the night of the hearing, Margaret walked in resolutely to a packed auditorium. She was somewhat surprised to see how many of her neighbors had come out. The room had a festive atmosphere as if they were all celebrating the demise of Margaret’s beloved trees. She was sick to her stomach but more determined than ever to present her strongly-worded ideas.

The mayor called everyone to order. Margaret joined the others on the stage. To her left were high-ranking executives of the Phora Corporation. To her right was the president of the university, Delia, Jessica’s daughter’s friend, some people she didn’t recognize and, taking the seat right next to Margaret, was her crazy neighbor. Margaret gave her traitor a sharp smile that said she didn’t actually mean it when she’d wished her a good evening.

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” began the mayor. “As some of you may know, the agenda tonight has changed thanks to some new developments. The public forum debates have been removed since new resolutions have been decided.”

Margaret was outraged. They just went ahead and accommodated the corporation without consulting the public? This was new and dangerous.

“Tonight, instead, we celebrate an exciting collaboration, the coming together of public and private interests. We hope this leads to many more positive changes for our amazing city,” he continued. “First we’d like to thank the Phora Corporation for their far-reaching assistance in everything that has happened.”

The audience applauded wildly. As did Crazy Alice, who nudged Margaret to do the same. She would do no such thing.

“The forest areas bordering our energetic city stands as a wonderful contrast to our civilized society. Like a partnership, they remain available for our enjoyment when the modern world gets too complex. They are also the home to countless, important species like our own Allamount oriole. Tonight, we celebrate their preservation as a world-renowned birding location. The Atwater Preserve, established with a generous donation from the Phora Corporation, will ensure that the Allamount oriole will forever have a home here in its namesake city. Perhaps our favorite neighborhood busy-body can say a few words? Ms. Atwater, come on up here”

The crowd applauded and Crazy Alice took the podium.

“Oh stop, this shouldn’t be about me!” she said. “This is about all of YOU, the wonderful residents of our fair city. YOU are the reason behind this. Sometimes you need a little prodding….” The audience laughed. “You’ve all gotten together, worked together to make everything happen!

“This is about the children of the PTA Special Projects Group who made and painted birdhouses. This is about our caring neighbors who hung them up for the oriole to nest in. This is about all the gardeners who set aside some of their land for plants that, though unattractive to us, are vital for the rare birds and butterflies that call Allamount home.

“Credit needs to go towards all of our young people! It was our Instagram-famous Delia Richardson who caught the attention of the influential birding community by posting so-called ‘selfies’ of herself and our residents with our famous bird. Now the International Birder’s Association, in conjunction with the university and Phora, will establish a program that will enable our cherished bird and other wildlife to thrive in our city for hundreds of years to come. Who says our children are spending too much time on their phones? Long live the selfie!”

The crowd cheered as Delia stood up and blew a kiss towards Alice.

 Margaret was dumbfounded. All of those crazy, random tasks Alice had gotten everyone to perform, they had been with preservation of the forest in mind?

“There is someone else up here that should not go unrecognized,” Alice continued. “Stand up Margaret!” This time she did what Alice asked, not sure what this was all about.

“Margaret Johnson started all this. Margaret Johnson recognized that land for the treasure that it is. She knew that land represented our heritage, the wildness of our souls. She knew we could live in conjunction with nature, not in opposition. Margaret knows that saving wildlands doesn’t mean progress has to stop. I’ve spent the past couple of weeks showing our friends from Phora the potential of Lot 42 and the old car-part warehouse, ideas Ms. Johnson has been championing for years. They’ve been successfully convinced that those areas will be outstanding locations to add to their expansion and partnerships. Let’s get Ms. Johnson up here for a big round of applause and then she can explain much better how these long decrepit areas can be developed for the betterment of all of us.”

As Margaret stood up to her own loud applause, she knew that her speech was going to quickly undergo its last revision.