c. 2026 Rod ice
All rights reserved
(3-26)
Dana Alvarez had been on hold for about 30 minutes, when someone finally picked up the line at Golden West Financial Holdings, in San Diego, California. She had burned through a dozen menthol cigarettes while waiting. So, her voice was a croak of froggy irritation.
“Ayyyyy, you gonna talk to me now? Madre Mia! I was ready to hang up!”
The company representative ignored her mood, and pretended that things at the distant office were running efficiently and smoothly. She had little time to worry over clients who were spread across the North American continent.
“I am Sloane Poridigo, may I help you, miss?”
The park manager in Thompson Township was miffed by this casual greeting. She had been kept on the phone for far too long, as an employee of the ownership group.
“Holla, lady! I’m calling from Ohio, you get me? Our property ref is MHP-8686. They call this place Evergreen Estates...”
Sloane rattled her gold and silver bracelets. Then, scrolled through entries on a computer monitor, at her desk.
“Yes, I see you now. We have more than three dozen developments in your state. What is the problem today?”
Dana fretted with a red bandana, which was too loose around her head.
“Ayyyyy, we got a guy here who won’t pay his lot rent. I’ve let him slide too long already, three months behind now. We need to do something!”
The GWFH official gasped audibly and squirmed in her roller chair.
“Three months? Good God! I would say that an eviction is in order. Have him thrown out immediately! Isn’t that obvious to you?”
The park supervisor lit another smoke while listening.
“See, the dude is a veteran, I think. He don’t talk too much with anybody here. As a matter of fact, people are kinda afraid to bother him. Comprende? They keep their distance. He has guns and knives in his trailer...”
Ms. Sloane nodded while cradling her landline receiver in one hand.
“Right, right, I understand, Miss Alvarez. Call your county sheriff. He can serve the papers. Get him out of there, today!”
Dana shuddered while thinking about what would result from a show of force.
“Ayyyyy, he gonna go nuts I think. I don’t usually deal with him, nobody else will, either. Okay?”
The California representative laughed cattily, and then hardened her tone.
“GET THIS BUM OFF YOUR PROPERTY! IF HE WON’T PAY, SEND HIM PACKING! THE COURTS, JUDGES, AND MEMBERS OF LAW ENFORCEMENT WON’T BE FRIGHGTENED TO DEAL WITH HIM! MAKE AN EXAMPLE, RIGHT NOW! SHOW ALL YOUR RESIDENTS THAT THIS INSTITUTION MEANS BUSINESS! NO ONE IS ABOVE THE LAW! EVERYBODY HAS TO PAY!”
There was a long pause before her contact in the Buckeye State answered. The young Latina felt uneasy about proceeding with an eviction.
“Okay, sure, I do it if you say so. But you remember this call, okay? You remember when things get crazy here...”
Their conversation ended abruptly. Neither party was satisfied with the discussion they had shared. Yet a decision to move forward with expelling the scofflaw resident seemed inevitable. No other choice would suffice.
Sheriff Tom T. Rath hesitated to deliver the paperwork, personally. He was busy sorting through postal mail, and attempting to drink his morning coffee, before it went cold. So instead, a junior deputy arrived, with a small contingent of men from their department. Despite knocking repeatedly, and attempting to look through the barred windows, no one responded. They left a formal notice taped to the front door. Then, departed in a mood of confusion and befuddlement.
Rath pounded his desk angrily, upon hearing that they had failed to serve the order, face-to-face.
“YOU JUST LEFT THAT TRAILER? WITH NO INTERACTION, NO OFFICIAL INTERVIEW, NO DOCUMENTATION?”
One of his skinny, inexperienced underlings pleaded for leniency, while trembling.
“Sir, the man at that park had messages written all over the outside of his mobile home. Long, rambling messages, about the court system and elected officials, and even us! The words covered every wall. I think they call that ‘hypergraphia’ but maybe the proper term is something else. I don’t know. My older brother is a psychology major in college. Anyway, it spooked us while trying to serve the notice.”
Their boss reddened with frustration.
“Alvarez will be calling me to handle this. I never enjoy passing out eviction notices, but especially when they involve someone who served in the military. I honor those people. I respect them. Maybe he needs counseling of some kind? Has anybody tried to offer help?”
The kid deputy had a manner much like Barney Fife, the fictional comic foil, on television.
“Residents at Evergreen Estates say they are afraid to go near that lot. He crawls around in his yard at night, with a rifle. As if being on patrol to protect the homestead! And he goes hunting in the woods behind their park. Never with anybody else, always alone...”
Sheriff Rath sighed, and threw his empty coffee cup in the trash.
“I think maybe you’re all making too much of this. The man might have some quirks after coming home from Iraq, or Afghanistan, or wherever, but that’s no sin. It’s not a crime. And it’s not unusual at all. Instead of bullying him, why don’t we ask if he can get some help with his back rent? And treatment for whatever he needs?”
His understudy shook with puzzlement at this suggestion. But replied with a caveat about the park owners.
“The manager on-site said that her employers in California just want him to be thrown out. He’s shaken up the other leaseholders and renters. They are afraid of a confrontation. The judge on this case made it clear that we have to get him out of his trailer, and the community confines!”
Their chieftain was unhappy about receiving such an arbitrary command. But he had no choice in the matter. Excuses were unacceptable.
“Alright, we’ll do the job if we must. Assemble an action team. I’ll lead it myself. But everyone will be protected with Kevlar vests. I don’t want casualties. Or any damned stories in the papers, or on evening newscasts!”
Their arrival at the remote, rural location evoked much tension and anxiety. With the skill of a professional brigade, they surrounded the longbox dwelling. Each member took a position where they could fire off defensive rounds, while staying safe from harm. Finally, their commander stood at the front entrance.
“Attention, resident! I have a legal order to deliver. Please comply and show yourself. I don’t want this to be difficult!”
Gunfire echoed from within the singlewide abode. Not directed at any target, but straight through the roof.
“I DON’T DEAL WITH ENEMY COMBATANTS! GO TA HELL, RAGHEAD! GO STRAIGHT TA HELL! OR Y’ALL R GONNA SEE ALLAH BEFORE YER READY!”
Rath breathed heavy and hard, before reaching for his sidearm. He stepped backward to attain a better view of the front porch. But before he could direct his deputies to instigate an assault on the home, someone stepped forward from a crowd of spectators that had gathered. He was shaggy, gray, and dressed in camouflage attire. He needed canes to walk, and had prosthetic limbs below both knees.
“Sheriff, let me talk to that brother. I fought in ‘Nam, there’s a kinship among soldiers. We don’t know each other, but I’ve heard about him from other folks in this place. He must be hurting inside, and feeling scared and alone. I used to think the whole country had abandoned me. The damn country, the president, everybody! But I never let go of my faith...”
As the crew of deputies retreated, their benefactor crept up to the doorway. He opened a faded manual, a book of prayers and services, published by the VVA. The Vietnam Veterans of America. Then, he began to whisper a prayer, with his right hand spread across the exterior wall.
“Blessed Lord Jesus, who knows the depths of loneliness and the dark hours of the absence of human sympathy and friendliness: help us to pass the weary hours of the night and the heavy hours of the day as you did, knowing of your father’s presence. Lift up our heart to full communion with you, strengthen us to do our duty, keep us constant to our trust, and let us know that however dark or desolate the hour, we are not alone, for you are with us, your rod and your staff to give us comfort. Amen.”
Then, the senior fellow closed his volume, and placed his head against the door.
“Stand down, soldier. You are at home now, and I am a kindred soul, your brother-in-arms. Whatever you need, whatever you want, whatever you wish, can be granted if you believe. I believe in peace. I believe in kinship. I believe in the goodness of a human heart. Put your weapons aside. Don’t suffer anymore. Pray with me friend, in the name of God, and be healed.”
He heard cautious footsteps, inside. Then, the lock mechanism clicked open. A gentle echo of sobbing ebbed from the trailer. And a new resonance filled his ears.
“Yes, that’s it, brother. That is what I need. I want to be healed...”
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