TPV Chapter 6: Conundrum

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-24)

 

With her future at the Cleveland Plain Dealer now in doubt, journalist Libby Raal decided to pursue other alternatives for channeling the power of creative output. She had long been involved in progressive causes, and chased her career goals with the zeal of a true believer. The election results did much to sour her mood on the future of America. Yet she would not surrender her faith in democracy, or citizen action. Despite the doubtful status of media organizations who shared her outlook, she chose to seek out another safe haven.

 

After scrolling through entries in her newspaper database, she realized that opportunities in the field had become decidedly slim. Blogs were so commonplace that they often got ignored by consumers. Podcasts were already abundant, and widely available in an oversaturated market. Websites were easy to create, and sometimes popular. But she was largely unknown outside of northeastern Ohio. Finally, she stumbled upon a print publication with headquarters on the west side. It was called ‘Queer Conundrum’ and had been in in existence since 1969.

 

When she read through details of its history, her cheeks began to flush with emotion. The monthly journal had been established as a reference point for the LGBT community, and their counterculture affiliates, who lived along Lake Erie. The gazette had evolved over time, and now encompassed an online version which was posted for readers around the nation, and world, free of charge.

 

She visited on a weekend between Christmas and New Year’s Day, when weather patterns were once again changing. A blast of warm air had temperatures soaring. Yet a meteorological crash was expected, with snow soon to appear in the forecast.

 

The QC office was in a brick building of uncertain vintage. It had become overgrown with vines and tall weeds, due to neglect and a minimal budget. A handmade placard hung by the front entrance, painted in rainbow hues. Inside, the staff was populated with young, non-binary students and their older mentors. Shades of purple and pink hair mixed with more seasoned colors of gray and white. The location was busy with social networking, public outreach, assistance programs, a lunchroom serving homeless citizens, and a floor of temporary housing for those in need.

 

Quantra Bolden had been an editor with the magazine, since graduating from Kent State University, in her twenties. She was old enough to have grandchildren working on the premises. But still retained the youthful energy of her bygone self. Instead of inhabiting an official office, she used the on-site kitchen and tearoom as her workspace.

 

Libby was impressed by the casual nature of this arrangement.

 

“Ms. Q, I’ve brought you my resume, if there’s time to have a look. The Plain Dealer is cowering with MAGA crap once again surging in the polls! I need somewhere to land. Staying quiet, in a corner, just isn’t my thing!”

 

Bolden shook her long curls and cackled softly. She wore a pendant fashioned from fish bones and scavenger finds discovered along the waterfront.

 

“The Pee Dee, you say? Does anybody read that thing currently? I might give it a look now and then, but no one of this generation pays attention to old media. Except for our mag, of course! I suppose we might be classed in with yesterday’s news...”

 

The wandering scribe held a folder of articles she had penned for mainstream outlets around Cleveland.

 

“I was born and raised in Geauga County. It’s a different world out there, but that made me tough! I know a lot of Trump fanatics. They are all around in my old neighborhood. Along with stray, Amish families, and blue-collar types that you see in rural areas!”

 

The QC supervisor was intrigued by this confession. It seemed to offer an opportunity to broaden the appeal of her publication.

 

“Geauga? Oh my, that must’ve been a challenge! I can’t imagine living out that far! This city is more diverse. More tolerant. More sophisticated. I wouldn’t last a week in your home environment! Still, it makes me think that this magazine needs to report with realism about what has happened just now. Some of my staff think that people like us will be sent to prison camps, or worse! We need insight on how others look at reality. Maybe that’s your niche? You could write honestly about that mindset. There is a place in your territory called Evergreen Estates, have you heard of it? Right by the county line with Ashtabula. That dirty, dilapidated park has been in the news, over and over, for years. Mainly for militia activity on its streets! That would be the target for your assignment. To interview residents, and expose their ignorance! You might be exactly what we’ve needed in the pages of Queer Conundrum! Someone with the gravitas to explain how the Orange Man has managed to con his way back into the White House!”

 

Suddenly, Raal felt sick at her stomach. She had started to swoon in her seat.

 

“That trailer park in Thompson Township? Are you... kidding? Please say that is a joke!”

 

Bolden smiled with wrinkles fanning out gently from her facial features.

 

“Not a jest, Libby. If you really want an opportunity to join our team, then that’s the peg on which to hang your shingle. Canvas that park, jot down your notes, and bring me a story about what you heard. No one here understands how voters could be so backward in their perceptions. It literally makes no sense! That’s an alien culture to us...”

 

Her prospective hire shuddered and shivered.

 

“AND YOU THINK I CAN FIND AN EXPLANATION?”

 

The print queen nodded to affirm her impulsive idea. Her hemp blouse was tattered and patched from being recycled, many times over.

 

“If you want to join our crew, and our community, then that’s the way. Bring me a piece I can run in our monthly. Make it compelling, and authentic. Tell the true tale of why your home spot is a century behind the rest of this area. Our readers need to know. It’ll help to edify them, and maybe, to protect them from being dragged into a modern-day revisitation of the Dark Ages! Think of it as a public service. Think of it as your audition with Queer Conundrum. Think of it as... a new beginning!”

 

Once the interview had concluded, Libby returned to her hybrid car, and sat in silence while gripping the steering wheel. She had no other prospects for employment. And maintaining her connection with the Plain Dealer would mean groveling and begging for forgiveness, things that disgusted her intensely. Like a forced meal of liver and onions, instead of a selection from her typical, vegan menu.

 

Evergreen Estates was on Pine Trail Road, mere miles from where she had gone to grade school. The journey wouldn’t take long. Yet as she pondered her opportunity to shine, the assignment had her insides churning with unhappy vibes. She had managed to survive growing up as an outcast among laborers, cowboys and hunters, and such. But how could she last when tossed back into that boiling pot of redneck brine?

 

That fate made her pause, and whimper in reflection.