c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(1-26)
Evergreen Estates has always been a community where the priorities of its isolated population do not necessarily follow a ranking set by logic. Things that are considered important may follow trends set around improvised bonfires, and in church pews, rather than on the ground. Therefore, to understand how residents at the park think and act, one must consider this modus operandi from a perspective framed differently than in other places.
I pondered this disparity while watching my neighbors react to events such as the election of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, and the capture of President Nicholás Maduro, in Venezuela. Neither of these stories mattered more on the streets of my mobile-home community, than the fact that lot rent had not been paid by a majority of leaseholders in the development. Yet there seemed to be no appetite for addressing this glaring mistake. Without any income flowing into the ownership coffers, it was impossible to think that their hold on our property could survive. No one manifested any concern over this situation, however. Instead, they continued to rant about vague social issues, political tribalism, and the combative relationship of those with different sports loyalties. From my front porch, it appeared to be a train wreck in progress.
Yet a more accurate term might have come to mind, if I had imbibed more whiskey to steel my cerebral synapses. Specifically, paralysis.
Manager Dana Alvarez was a fiery Latina with her focus on maintaining employment as our company representative. She knew well that it would be impossible to get paid if there was no profit from operating the residential business. Sheriff Tom T. Rath had made his career as a member of law enforcement, and could not veer away from the discipline that entailed. But he knew the junkyard village was always a tinder box. Ready to burst into flame at any moment, with the slightest provocation. He had no interest in setting the park ablaze with a mass eviction. Nakano Volca, a graduate of Cornell University in the Finger Lakes Region, wanted to preserve the ideological integrity of his progressive group. That meant solving issues through diplomacy and cooperation, not the brute force of bankers, judges, and police officers.
The upshot of all this was clear. No one wanted to make a first move, for fear of causing everything to collapse.
With the New Year fully present, I kept drinking and watching from my wooden bench. Happenings on the streets of our rustic village were dramatic enough to witness. But if I had been at the Proletariat Property Co-op headquarters, a situation even more dire would have been unfolding. One that threatened the viability of their firm, and its stated mission.
After financial officers in charge had taken a seat around an iMac computer, first on their roster of responsibilities was reading through e-mail messages collected over the weekend. As they scanned the list of communications received, one immediately stuck out as being most important of all. It was a brief, desperate plea, sent by one of their partners in the heartland.
“From: Deedra Kahlo, Lake Erie Credit Combine
Re: Thompson MHP
In case you haven’t heard this from other sources... we’ve got an insurrection happening here in Ohio. Those living at Evergreen Estates are staging a rent strike, not an escrow creation as the courts denied their petition. But instead, a full-blown uprising! Only three members of the community have paid as usual. It is a standoff, because the local sheriff is hesitant to enforce eviction orders. So, what can we do? Our manager at the development wants action. Backchannel contact with the township trustees tell us they fear a collapse of the local infrastructure. A quiet confab with the governor revealed that he wants no part of a National Guard assignment to quell potential rioting. I know you don’t favor interdiction, legally, but something has to be done. This is quickly spinning out of control...”
Volca sipped his Chai tea while thinking. Then, he turned to other partners around their conference table.
“Look everyone, it would be easy to drop a hammer here. Our position vis-à-vis the law is clear. We could just boot all those who haven’t paid, and recruit new residents. The housing market is tough right now. Deedra went on to say that small apartments in Chardon, a few miles away, are over $1000.00 per month. That whole county is prime real estate. They are close enough to Cleveland for working in the metropolitan area, but distant from the urban congestion. So, we could just toe the fascist line, and whack anyone who won’t conform. But you know that isn’t our goal. We want brothers and sisters joining the family, in solidarity. Not victims becoming bitter because we used a heavy hand!”
Selden Pate, the lone member of their team who had been raised on Buckeye soil, wheezed and tapped his phone stylus on the tabletop. His pale complexion became even more ghostly when hearing the opinions of his boss.
“Nakka, I get your groove here, nobody wants to be a money-grubber like the Orange Man and his minions. But if we don’t get any cooperation on this, then how do we pay our own bills? We’re backed into a corner, dude!”
Heads nodded around the room. It seemed that every member of the staff agreed.
Nova Caine, who had toned down her drag appearance for the meeting, was particularly expressive in echoing the sentiments of their superior.
“I get it, honey! I get it completely! Now, you’d have to expect those hillbilly hicks to put up a fight over the rent increase and bad maintenance, but it’s just for show. They’re trying to look tough for their butch friends who don’t have to live in mobile homes! Understand? I know what they really want. I see them sneaking in the door when we perform at places like the Cove, a little club up at Geneva-on-the-Lake. Hee hee, they love us! We are faaaaaabulous!”
Nakano cleared his throat with embarrassment.
“Well then, you think that busting them would be a bad move? If that’s right, which I think it is, the=n how do we solve this problem? How do we cover our expenses?”
His underling shook her head, and giggled loudly. A gesture that almost toppled the platinum-blonde wig from it’s perch on her scalp.
“Give ‘em some sugar, baby! Give those dunces something sweet, before you sit them in the corner! That always worked with me when I was in school! Ooh ooh ooh!”
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