c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(12-25)
I have never been a person who spends time fretting over the habits of others. What they do, privately and in their own social bubble, is not my concern. Moreover, I have always adhered to the mantra, ‘stay in your lane.’ It is indeed sensible and courteous to keep focused on your own affairs. And one may observe rightly that arguments, legal disputes, and wars, often have their origin point in some sort of busybody meddling. Shades of religious dogma or political crusading only intensify this most irritating habit of the human species. To force opinions on others who may disagree, is an act rooted in arrogance. I refuse to assume such a level of self-importance, for any stance which I take freely. My own views are well-considered, I believe. Yet they are the product of an evolutionary curve etched out over many years. I do not expect anyone to necessarily subscribe to the conclusions I have reached. But I do pray that they will study and edify themselves, accordingly. Knowledge is a precious asset, to be sure. However, mortal minds still wander within the boundaries of sentient consciousness. So long as my neighbors do not inhibit the liberties which I enjoy, I wish them no harm.
I once saw a quote attributed to Penn Gillette that nailed the point, effectively.
“My take on being Libertarian is that I don’t know what is best for other people.”
At Evergreen Estates, this concept is, unfortunately, all but dead. Residents such as Aimes Hefti, the militia commander, and Linn Speck, the association head and moral advocate, spend much of their daily lives treading on the ground of fellow citizens. Through boastful propaganda, distributing mass literature, and clandestine firearms sales, both have a methodology founded upon persuasive coercion. On our rural property, they are twin towers of torment.
But across my side yard, Trina Trelane provides a visible counterpoint to this kind of behavior. She is a close-cropped, bulky, tattooed lesbian. With leanings that are generally leftward and progressive. I have never seen her hold a job of any kind. Yet she stays busy, networking with other outlier contacts, presumably in trailer enclaves around the Buckeye northcoast. Her demeanor, toward me at least, has always been courteous and cheerful. Something that I take as a sign that we must share, at least in principle, some of the same viewpoints regarding personal conduct in a public setting.
However, a recent encounter over the grassy strip between our mobile homes made me ponder how even good intentions can end up seeding chaos in an environment such as ours.
We had been in a deep-freeze since Thanksgiving, all across the region. But Mother Nature seemed to wake for a moment, after this frosty episode of about three-weeks. A momentary warming changed the snow to rain, with a particular weekday soaring to near 50 degrees. This meant that I could shuck my protective cocoon, at least for a moment. I sat outside on the front porch with several rounds of brew, and a bottle of brown liquor. The fresh air was invigorating, and some who passed on the street tooted their automobile horns in tribute.
Finally, Trina appeared on her back stoop. She was dressed in a fuzzy, cat-eared cap, a Ramen hoodie, and summer leggings with a Pokemon pattern. Her tiny pooch apparently needed a potty reprieve. Because we rarely saw each other, face-to-face, this chance encounter caused her to gasp slightly. Then, she squealed and giggled at my shaggy appearance.
“Yikes, Link, how long has it been since you had a haircut? Or a shave?”
I snorted with amusement at her query. It had been so long that I could not remember.
“Sometime before the Covid pandemic, I think.... does it matter?”
She rolled her eyes behind a pair of thick-framed, black spectacles.
“Of course not. But from a distance, you look like a big gnome sitting over there! My girlfriend thinks you must be scary when she visits. But I told her that actually, most of the other people here are more frightening to me!”
I was unsure if her remark was a compliment, or an insult. Still, either way it would have no effect on my routine.
“Umm... while you’re out here, I wonder if anyone has called from the new ownership group in New York? I got a ring from a... lady who claimed to be an assistant of some kind. She peppered me with questions about this park. I didn’t give her much insight though, just more points to ponder...”
My cohort to the west was often tagged as Miss Poindexter, by other leaseholders in our community. She displayed a facial expression in keeping with that nickname, before asking who had reached out to make a connection.
“Really? That’s cool. What was her name?’
I did not guess that passing along the information would arouse any controversy in our rural village. So, I answered with no hesitation.
“Nova, I think? Nova Caine. She had a brassy tone of voice that buzzed in my ear...”
Trina exhaled with a foghorn blast. I had never seen her react to anything so emotionally.
“NOVA CAINE??? THEEEEEE NOVA CAINE? REALLY, REALLY, REALLY?”
I was blank and numb.
“Yeah... umm... who is that?”
My reclusive friend began to dance suggestively, tossing her plump thighs left and right. She threw back her head and laughed out loud. Then sang lyrics to a popular song I did not recognize.
“There can’t be another Nova Caine, that has to be the one! She’s been on Ru Paul’s Drag Race, I’ve seen her dozens of times! Jinkies, what a hoot! If she works for this new company, that is wonderful! I can’t wait to post about it on Facebook!”
I was tipsy from the Kentucky bourbon, but not yet drunk. Her outburst left me puzzled.
“Drag racing? What, like up our road at the Kuhnle Strip? I didn’t know that was a thing anymore. Didn’t that go out with the Beach Boys and muscle cars? I miss my kid brother’s black, V-8 Falcon Futura...”
She sneered and smiled alternately.
“Link, you’re a crazy goof! Drag as in drag queen! Wooo, you’re really out of the loop, buddy! She’s fabulous, a dazzling darling on stage! I love her glam performances! That big transwoman is an LGBT hero! We went to see her last summer, in a show at the Cove! Up at Geneva-on-the-Lake! The club was really packed!”
I chugged a double swallow of fiery refreshment. It burned in my throat. My eyes watered from the taste. But it steadied my mood. I hoped the pee break for her canine pal was over. Any further details would be more than I could handle, without drowning my senses.
“Alrighty ma’am... well, if she calls again, I’ll tell her there’s a fan in the neighborhood!”
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