“There’ll be a load of compromisin’

on the road to my horizon...” Rhinestone Cowboy

Ah, the neighborhood....

Times change, y’know, but not that much...back in those halycon daze of the ‘40’s, specially after WWII, the village of Beattyville wuz basically what they call t’day, a bedroom community...

‘course, back then, most women, not all of ‘em but most, were stay at home moms so Beattyville had a daytime population of women, kids ‘n a handful of old people ‘cuz all the men worked for the most part, ‘cross the river in Ohio...

One of the innarestin’ aspects of life in a small town is that ever’one knows ever’one else ‘n ever’one else’ bizness...

It’s a good thing when trouble strikes ‘cuz they all come out to help...but, when things are running smoothly, there’s always someone to stir the pot ‘cuz an idle mind is the Devil’s workshop ‘n gossip in a small community is nuthin’ if not rampant...’n compromise is essential anytime people get t’gether.....

T’day....well, it’s been relatively quiet for awhile here in Ol Fair Oaks ‘n I guess it’s kind’a like that little valve on a teapot, the one that whistles when it’s gettin’ ready to boil...anyways, it wudn’t really surprisin’ that a Sac County Sherrif’s deputy showed up on our rustic little byway...well, not surprisin’ t’me anyways...

It’s a small street, only a short block ‘n only got about a dozen residents if you don’t count the Mexican family across the street who hold themselves aloof from the rest of us...not sure why, but there’s about a dozen of them, mostly kids ‘n half a dozen dogs, give or take...

Anyways, two of the resident women on our little street had struck up a friendship over the pet chickens that people have been dropping off to fend for themselves here in Ol Fair Oaks..

They seemed to have bonded over saving chickens, at least for a spell but now, for whatever reason, seem to be at odds with one another...not exactly sure why...not really my bizness...but now one of ‘em is feeding the chickens up ‘n down the street ‘n t’other one ain’t...

It’s my personal opinion that if nobody fed the chickens ‘n cats we’d have a lot fewer of ‘em hanging out here but as far as the vicissitudes of life goes, that’s pretty small stuff....

Anyways, one wants to save ‘em all ‘n t’other one wants ‘em to go away...that seems t’be the crux of the matter...

‘n the one that wants to save ‘em evidently spread her bounty too close to the little corner of the world that t’other calls home, so t’other one called the Sherrif to come do sumthin’ about it...

Well, y’know, it ain’t like Sacramento county got tons of funds ‘n we’re a little short on law enforcment (so I’m told) but nonetheless we got a visit from John Law, a pleasant enuff young man whose job appears to be as arbiter between the differing views of the chicken ladies of Crestline Avenue...

Back in the day in Beattyville, we didn’t have nobody to act as arbiter, heck, we hardly ever saw any representatives of Greenup county except when it got close to election time ‘n they come to spread a little gravel ‘n ask for votes... but sumhow all the village quarrels got compromised one way or another anyhow...

“A smart person knows what t’say; a wise person knows whether or not to say it ~ I don’t think I ever got the hang of that.”