by Jerry Apps
35
Problem Solved
A lazy summer sun slowly climbed above the horizon, making the waters of Link Lake sparkle. The sun awakened Karl Adams from a deep sleep. When Karl worried about something he didn’t sleep well—and when he started on a new job by a mining company, sleeping was especially difficult. The first couple weeks he was in Link Lake the pro and con factions about the new sand mine coming to town had declared war on each other. He had to figure out how to smooth things over and so far he was making progress.
Karl had years of experience working with divided communities when a new mine came to town. As he sat on his patio, looking out over the lake, he felt good. He knew that with some of Alstage Sand Mining Company’s monetary help, he had come a long way in taking people’s minds off the sand mine through the various community activities held over the past couple months. People were smiling again, even laughing.
He climbed in his car and drove to Increase Joseph Community Park. Emerson Evans had informed him that morning that one of their new, highly sophisticated drilling machines (“It cost us more than a million dollars”) had been delivered to the site yesterday. “They had a little trouble bringing the machine through the narrow entrance, where that old oak stands in the way,” Evans told him, “but they made it okay. Next week we’ll begin some test drilling so we know exactly what kind of sand we’ve got, and how difficult it will be to get at it.” Evans had also asked if any problems were brewing, protests, that sort of thing.
Karl had replied, “Everything is cool here. Nice bunch of folks. I anticipate no difficulties.”
Karl had a bad feeling, though, when he drove by the park’s entrance and saw not a half-dozen protesters marching, which had been the earlier case, but at least twice that many, maybe more, walking back and forth carrying Stop the Sand Mine signs. He didn’t stop to confront them, but he guessed they were out-of-town agitators who enjoyed getting in the way of a community’s progress.
He drove past the village hall, where the big sign showing the exact location of the sand mine had been posted for several weeks. This morning he noticed a big red circle around the mine site with a line through it and the words “No Mine” scrawled on the bottom of the map.
Karl stopped at the Eat Well Café for breakfast and noticed the place was all abuzz. Others had seen the protestors as well and wondered what it meant. Someone said, “I saw a huge semi delivering a fancy machine at the park yesterday.”
“Must be they’re gonna start mining any day now,” someone else said.
“Nope, they’re not supposed to start until October.”
“Wonder who them protestors are? Where they came from?” the first person asked.
Beyond talking about the protestors at the park, he also overhead a couple of fellows who were quite livid that someone had “messed up” the mining map, as people referred to it.
“Police ought to arrest whoever did that and throw the book at ’em. We don’t do things this way in Link Lake. We don’t run around spray paintin’ things we don’t like.”
Karl Adams smiled to himself when he heard all of this, but he was concerned that people’s minds once more had begun focusing on the sand mine, exactly what he did not want to happen. He did notice a few people watching the Eat Well’s eagle cam feed. The two baby eaglets appeared nearly big enough to leave the nest. Karl caught himself watching the eagles as well. A mature bald eagle is surely an impressive creature, he thought.
36
Arrest the Protestors
With breakfast finished, and with an earful of comments about what had recently been transpiring in Link Lake, Karl called Marilyn Jones and arranged to meet with her within the hour. When Karl entered her little office, Marilyn said, “What in hell is going on, Karl? I thought you had everything under control. Do you know how many protestors are up there at the park? I counted fifteen. And did you see how they defaced your map at the village hall? The bastards. This has got to stop. What are you going to do about all this, Karl? This whole project is going to hell in a hand-basket unless we do something to stop it, and right now. I called the police department and told them to arrest those damn protestors.”
Karl said quietly, “They can’t arrest them; they’ve got a right to protest.”
As if not hearing what Karl had just said, Marilyn continued, “Not a damn one of them is from Link Lake. What the hell do these people think they’re doing? Messing with our little town when it’s just none of their damn business.” She pounded her fist on the table.
In the several months that Karl had been working with Marilyn Jones, he couldn’t remember when he saw her more angry or heard her use profanity.
“So what do you suggest we do, Karl? This whole damn strategy of calming down the people was your idea. Now, all of a sudden, everybody is upset again. People are wondering what’s going on. Somebody told me they saw one of your trucks delivering a big machine to the park yesterday. That right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell me about that, so at least I would know that somebody would see that machine and decide it was time to raise a ruckus?”
“I didn’t think it was important . . . the company will be bringing lots of equipment during the next few weeks.”
“Well, give me a heads-up so this kind of stuff doesn’t come as a surprise. My new chef saw the protestors when he came to work this morning. You know what he said, Karl? You know what he said?”
“What’d he say?”
“Pierre said he moved from Madison to Link Lake with his family to get away from all this protesting. Said he thought this was a quiet, peaceful little community. He couldn’t believe all those protestors were marching back and forth in front of the park’s entrance. And he asked me what it was all about.”
“And you told him about the new sand mine coming to town?”
“Of course I did. I told him this would be the best thing to happen to Link Lake in twenty years. That once the mine was up and running our business would prosper even more than it is now.”
“And what did Pierre say?”
“He didn’t say anything, other than thanks for letting him know. He just turned and went to work. For all I know he is against the sand mine. He didn’t say where he stands.”
“Maybe he doesn’t care one way or the other,” said Karl.
“I don’t know what to think. I sure wish we could do something about those outside agitators. I think I’ll call the sheriff in Willow River, have some of his deputies come over and work with our police to keep an eye on them. Just can’t trust those protestors, don’t know what they’ll do next.”
Emily Higgins smiled when she drove past the park entrance on this warm sunny morning and saw the protestors marching with their Stop the Mine signs held high. Emily had been in touch with the historical societies in the region and had informed them about the plans for the village to build a sand mine in the park and destroy the Trail Marker Oak in the process. She had asked if their members would volunteer to march—but only when she gave the word. When Emily learned that the mining company had delivered a big machine to the park, she got on the phone to historical societies in the area: Waupaca, Willow River, and Westfield—all of whom offered to help with the protests. Three members from the Link Lake Historical Society also volunteered to march, but Emily had warned them to wear dark glasses and otherwise disguise themselves so they would not be recognized.
Still, when Emily heard about the defacing of the mine map at the village hall, she was disturbed. She had told all the volunteers to do absolutely nothing that was illegal. “You break the law and all you do is turn the town’s sympathy toward the sand mine,” Emily had said. She was quite certain that none of the local historical society members would deface anything; it wasn’t something a historical society person would do. Breaking the law and doing something like defacing a map was not an appropriate action, even when emotions were high in opposition to a sand mine coming to
Link Lake.
Emily wondered who might do it, but she couldn’t think of one person in Link Lake who would do such a thing. As Emily considered all that had been going on in the last couple days, she wondered if the protestors marching would change any minds. And she wondered what further action the Link Lake Historical Society could take to save the Trail Marker Oak.
That afternoon, Emily drove by the park to check on the marchers. She chuckled when she saw two sheriff ’s cars and a police cruiser parked on one side of the road that trailed by the park, with protestors walking on the other side. The deputies, the police, and the protestors all appeared to be enjoying the pleasant late summer day.
37
Oscar, Fred, and the Protestors
So what’s new?” asked Fred Russo as he pulled out a chair at the Eat Well and sat down opposite his friend Oscar Anderson.”
“Geez, Fred, you been asleep? There’s a bunch of new stuff going on. Things are really poppin’ around here.”
“So what’s happening? Been asleep, only up for couple hours. Good to get your rest, especially when you’re older. I read that in a magazine, think it was Reader’s Digest. Yup, that’s where it was. That’s where it said we old codgers ought to get at least eight hours of sleep every night. And I try to do that. You ought to try that too, Oscar. You’d feel better. You wouldn’t be so damn ornery in the morning,” said Fred as he held up his cup for Henrietta to fill with fresh coffee.
“Fred, I don’t wanna hear your goofy theories on how much sleep I oughta get. This town is about to explode. Ain’t you noticed what’s goin’ on?”
“I did see some folks walkin’ back and forth in front of the park entrance. Looked like they were soakin’ up a little sun and getting some exercise.”
“Fred, you just don’t get it. Those folks are protestors. They were carrying signs that said, ‘Stop the Mine.’”
“Really? I didn’t look at the signs. Figured they was welcoming folks to the park.”
“Geez, Fred. You are dense. These are people that believe our park should be left just as it is and has been for more than a hundred years. These are our kind of people, Fred,” said Oscar.
“Our kind of people? I doubt that. I didn’t see you marching.”
“I think I would’ve marched had I been a little younger and didn’t have this bum leg. I think I would have been right out with those folks telling the world that Link Lake doesn’t need no damn sand mine,” said Oscar, leaning a bit toward his friend as he spoke quietly.
“Oscar, people in this town may be against things from time to time, but when they protest, they don’t walk back and forth all day carrying a sign. There’s a better way to protest than what they are doing,” said Fred, taking another sip of coffee.
“Maybe so, Fred. But folks carrying signs get people’s attention. We’re talkin’ about it, aren’t we? Got our attention.”
“Let’s be straight about this. Them walkin’-all-day sign carriers got your attention. I didn’t think much about it.”
The two sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying their coffee.
“Something else happened yesterday,” began Oscar.
“Oh, and what would that be? Somebody’s dog bite you on the leg?”
“Fred, how do you come up with those dumb ideas? No damn dog bit me on the leg.”
“So what happened then? Hard to think of anything more serious than a dog chewin’ on your leg.”
“You know that big map of the park that’s posted on the bulletin board outside the village hall? The one that outlines where the sand mine will operate?”
“Yeah, what about it? I looked at it a time or two. Nice map. Colorful.”
“Well it’s not very colorful now.”
“So what happened to it?” asked Fred.
“Someone spray painted a huge X across the map. Ruined it. Paint slopped all over the bulletin board too. Whole thing’s a mess.”
“Well, Oscar. That was probably another one of them protestors that you seem to have kinship with that did it. What’d I tell you? I bet there’s a bunch of people mad as hell about that.”
“I don’t agree with it. Don’t agree with it at all,” said Oscar. “It was an illegal act. I do not approve of illegal acts no matter how much a person is opposed to something. I hope the person who did it is arrested.”
“Okay, Oscar. Let me get this straight. You think it’s a good thing to spend your time walking back and forth in front of a park carrying a sign. But it’s a bad thing to paint over a map?”
“Fred, sometimes I don’t understand you. You ever read the Constitution? You ever read down through those amendments?”
“You think I’ve got time to sit around reading the Constitution? I’ve got lots of better things to do with my time.”
“Fred, you’re just like a bunch of people in this country—you don’t know your rights.”
“And now, I suspect I’m going to hear an Oscar Anderson speech on the Constitution and its amendments,” said Fred.
“Nope, you are not, except for me tellin’ you something about the right of people in this country to protest. It’s in the First Amendment. But people don’t have the right to deface a sign. That’s breaking the law,” said Oscar.
“Well, fine and dandy. But I just don’t think marchin’ all day is gonna do any good in stopping that old sand mine company from coming to town and cutting down the Trail Marker Oak. And painting over the map is just gonna make people mad,” said Fred.
“It’s a damn mess, Fred. A damn mess. I thought things were gettin’ better with the outstanding Fourth of July celebration and Trail Marker Oak Days. Thought things had quieted down. But I guess not. Things can’t get much worse. Little Link Lake is torn right in two—those thinkin’ the sand mine is the best thing for Link Lake since sliced bread and the rest of us who can’t see destroying history on the road to progress.”
“That’s a pretty fine speech you just made there, Oscar. That line about destroying history on the road to progress, that’s notable.”
“Well, thank you, Fred. But it’s only a statement of fact. Doesn’t do much for helping Link Lake dig out of this quagmire of a mess it’s in.”
“Wonder what’s gonna happen next.” said Fred.
As they had done every morning since the eagle cam had been showing the development of the bald eagle family in the big nest at the park, they spent a few minutes before they left the Eat Well watching the big screen that was just above the cash register.
“Really interesting to see how fast those little eagles grow. Those two little ones look nearly big enough to leave the nest,” said Oscar.
“At least the eagle cam is one thing everyone in this town can agree on,” said Fred.
38
Don’t Give Up
FIELD NOTES
Link Lake Update
By Stony Field
My contacts in little Link Lake, Wisconsin, have just informed me that the Alstage Sand Mining Company that earlier signed a lease with the Village of Link Lake to mine sand in their village park is now preparing to begin operations. You will recall that one of the sticking points in the entire affair is an old bur oak that has historical significance as it was a trail marker that pointed the way for the Native Americans and early settlers to the area. Trail marker trees were the road signs of their day. Both the land and the old oak were sacred to the Native Americans.
The Link Lake Historical Society, along with many other citizens, is adamantly opposed to destroying the Trail Marker Oak for the sake of economic development. According to these historians, to even consider mining sand in a park that has served the community for more than a hundred years is blasphemous.
The historical society points to the recent highly successful Fourth of July celebration and Trail Marker Days as ways of attracting people to Link Lake and thus improving the economic situation of the community without doing harm to its historical artifacts.
It appears that the Alstage Sand Mi
ning Company plans to go ahead with its operation no matter how much the community complains or objects. The narrow and rather misguided views of the Economic Development Council and the village’s docile mayor and village board have generated hard feelings in this little community.
I have been informed that representatives of the Link Lake Historical Society, as well as representatives from nearby historical societies, have joined the renewed protest marches at the park. May their efforts be recognized for what they are: citizens showing their unhappiness for local government officials who have gone amok in their zeal to create jobs without consideration for anything else. The weak-kneed village board made a bad decision when they signed a lease with the Alstage Sand Mining Company. It is not too late to reverse their decision.
39
Explosion
The explosion shook Karl Adams’s bed, rattled the windows in his cabin, and brought him wide awake from a deep sleep where he had been dreaming about old people dancing around the Trail Marker Oak and singing a song that he didn’t recognize. Karl sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and wondered if he had really heard an explosion or if that had been a part of his weird dream. When he heard the scream of sirens, he knew the explosion was real. He glanced at the clock sitting on the scarred table by his bed: 5:00 a.m. He pulled on his clothes and decided to find out what had exploded with such force that the entire cabin had shook.
It was about an hour before dawn—the eastern sky showed hints of the sunrise. Karl turned and glanced in the direction of the park and saw a reddish glow in the sky. He climbed into his car and headed for the park. Once there, he was stopped by the upraised arm of a Link Lake police officer, his patrol car parked across the road, blocking the way.
Karl rolled down his window. “What’s going on?” he asked.
