Sack kids are aware of the bag's presence. Upon discovering it, they recoiled with muted squeals of horror. One of the braver souls decided to poke it with a stick, but then quickly lost interest in the matter. Even young Doo found little to capture his attention. I watched as he gave the bag a quick inspection. In the end, he simply gave it a dismissive kick and then wandered away to find more engaging mayhem. Since then, Sack kids have simply played around the bag, as if it were a suburban land mine.
I remain steadfast in my resolve not to interfere in the matter. After all, it's not my dog poop. If it was mine, I'd be diligent in removing it from sight.
But again, it's not my dog poop. I've drawn a line in the sand on this matter and I'm not going to cross it.
I'm serious, man.
***
It has been some time since we have spoken in any detail about Gordon. Sack shenanigans have a way of nudging him into the background. Fortunately, Gordon's amusing idiosyncrasies ensure that he will always find his way back to our radar screen.
Gordon, of course, is the grand poobah of the Sack Resident's Society. His vision for the Sack calls for a reserved, regulated and restrictive suburban cul-de-sac. But like most misunderstood visionaries, he has been fighting an uphill battle.
Nevertheless, Gordon is not a man who gives up easily. He instigated the creation of the Sack Resident's Society and instituted a rarely-used neighbourhood email group. In a moment of inspired creativity, he even chose a logo for the Society's letterhead. It features the image of a powerful, soaring raptor.
Unbeknownst to Gordon and other Sack residents, the logo actually depicts the form of a turkey vulture in full flight.
***
Like any conscientious grand poobah, Gordon has made it his business to become involved in civic affairs, especially as these matters relate to the Sack's welfare. He assures us that he's on a first-name basis with the local city councillor. On one occasion, he actually spoke on the telephone with one of the Mayor's executive assistants. Inspired by this brush with greatness, he now refers to the Mayor as Peter, rather than the man's full name.
Oscar, of course, regards Gordon with equal measures of wariness, amusement and disdain. In his eyes, Gordon is the suburban equivalent of an overbearing high school hall monitor.
"He might be on a first-name basis with the city councillor," he told your agent once, "but I'll bet he's listed in the councillor's Blackberry under "Arsehole."
***
Gordon's full-time occupation, outside of his Sack leadership role, is with the federal government. Apparently, he does something or other in an office, somewhere in the centre of the old town. At least, that's how Oscar describes it.
Gordon, of course, refers to himself as a civil servant. Oscar finds this archaic term to be wonderfully ironic.
"Have you ever tried to get a passport in this country?" he asked me. "If one of my servants took that long to do something, they'd be gone like that," he added, snapping his fingers for emphasis.
"And don't even talk to me about civil. I wouldn't be surprised if they have to take a rudeness seminar before they can work for the federal government."
***
Weed, on the other hand, is greatly amused by Gordon's characterization of himself as a servant. He said it would be a fantastic thing to employ a servant of his own. Of course, he wouldn't require such services on full-time basis. He said he would only need his servant during weekday mornings.
"I'd just want someone to get me out the door in the morning," he explained. "Wake me up on time, make my breakfast, pack me a lunch and lay out my clothes. . . . that's about it."
Oscar laughed at this notion. "So what you really want is a mommy to do that stuff for you."
"Yeah," Weed replied, nodding his head slowly, "that would probably do, as well."
***
Early on Thursday evening, your agent rolled out the Wonders' compost bin to the curb. I was halfway down the driveway when Oscar emerged from his house to do the same.
As we drifted toward each other for a brief chat, Weed drove into the Sack. He was returning from his job at the local call centre, or as Weed prefers to call it, "the coal mine of the new millennium."
As Oscar and I converged near the Sack's centre circle, Weed emerged from his car. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants with a white shirt and a solid purple tie. The tie was badly knotted and hung around his neck like a noose. On top of his business ensemble was a faded denim jacket. Despite the light fog in the air, he also wore a pair of sunglasses.
After exchanging pleasantries, Oscar looked at Weed and your agent and said:
"Ask me what I saw this afternoon."
"No," Weed laughed, "cause you're gonna tell us anyway."
"That's true," Oscar replied with a smile.
***
Oscar said he had just emerged from a strategic planning session. This is what he prefers to call an afternoon nap on his couch. Apparently, this is when he gets the majority of his "thinking work" completed.
After rising from the couch, he walked to his front window and stretched his arms in the air. That's when he saw Gordon walking up the street.
Gordon was moving slowly up the road with a small camcorder lifted to his face. He was pointing it at each house on the east side of the street. Oscar said he was walking as if he was in funeral procession.
Oscar watched in amazement as Gordon inched along. He was slowly panning the camera across the line of homes. When he reached Burning Manor, he paused and recorded it more intently than the other homes. When he finally reached his own house, he began to slowly circle his car. With great care, he directed the camera across every inch of the exterior. Then he opened the car door and began to film the interior, again with great patience and concentration.
Oscar said his curiosity limit was finally breached. He rushed outside to investigate the matter.
***
Gordon seemed startled when Oscar appeared by his side. He was deeply engrossed in his film-making endeavours.
Oscar said he couldn't think of any other way to ask Gordon about the camcorder business. "What the heck are you doing?" he asked him with a smile.
Gordon was quick to set Oscar's mind at ease that he hadn't flipped his noodle. He had simply taken the day off to purchase his new camcorder. Apparently, he had been investigating the purchase for some time. After extensive research on the Internet, he had found the absolute best model for his particular audiovisual requirements. Remarkably, he said he also found it within his price range.
The camcorder, Gordon explained, was mostly needed to capture the usual events of everyday life. He wanted to record family gatherings and traditions, as well as his annual vacation in Cuba.
But there was also another reason for Gordon's purchase. For security and insurance purposes, he wanted to capture live images of his most valued possessions. After all, he told Oscar, with global warming upon us, the old town would surely be hit by another hurricane this summer.
The old town, of course, received the vicious slap of a hurricane in 2003. Nevertheless, the cold waters of the north Atlantic usually dissipate such storms before they reach our shores. The previous significant hurricane to hit the old town was more than forty years ago.
When Oscar mentioned the unlikelihood of another hurricane, Gordon reassured him that he had investigated the long-term weather prospects very carefully. All signs, he told Oscar knowledgeably, point toward another hurricane next September.
"And I'm going to be ready for it, too," he said with authority.
***
"So, why were you walking up and down the street with that thing?" Oscar asked, pointing at the camcorder.
Gordon explained that he was establishing a "baseline historical record" of the Sack. He was doing so in his role as the grand poopah of the Sack Resident's Society.
"After the next hurricane, people will have an accurate record of what their house looked like before the storm. That way, their insurance companies won't be able to rip them off."
Gordon went on to explain that most people don't think enough about contingency plans and the protection of their key possessions. He said he had already videotaped everything of value inside his home for both posterity and peace of mind. He told Oscar he would be happy to pop over later and do the same for all of Oscar's most prized possessions.
"Just give me a few minutes to finish up here and then I'll be right over," he said with enthusiasm.
"Naw, that's okay," Oscar replied, "But thanks anyway."
***
Oscar also asked Gordon why he had spent additional time filming the exterior of Burning Manor.
Gordon said he wanted a clear picture of the house for when it inevitably burns down again. He said he would give the video to the peelers, if they needed help in their forensic investigations. Then he asked Oscar again, if he'd like his prized possessions recorded for posterity.
"Naw, that's okay," Oscar replied again. "But thanks anyway."
***
Gordon's camcorder escapades, of course, weren't completely related to his desire for safety and security. He also likes to make good use of a new gadget before it fades into the background of his other possessions.
When he purchased a pressure washer last year, he was all over the neighbourhood offering his cleaning services to other Sack residents. He was so earnest about the matter, it was impossible to turn him down. He carefully pressure-washed at least six driveways and several porches, before he finally retired to his home.
Oscar says he hasn't seen Gordon use his pressure washer since.
***
"So, you took the whole day off just to buy a camcorder?" Oscar asked, just before they parted ways.
Gordon explained that he took a "mental health day," instead of going to work. As a civil servant in Her Majesty's government, he's entitled to a handful of such days every year.
Whenever he makes a significant purchase, Gordon says he likes to complete the matter during a weekday. The stores, he explained, aren't as busy. He said it's easier to get the complete attention of sales staff.
"Besides," he added evenly, "I like to ask a lot of questions when I buy something."
"That makes sense," Oscar replied. He quickly disengaged from Gordon and went back to his house. He said Gordon was starting to give him a headache. In the end, he said he had to have another strategic planning session just to clear his head.
***
Gordon, of course, will gradually lose interest in his camcorder. It might sit in a drawer for a lengthy period, before he runs across it again. Then he'll take a renewed interest in it, before it gets relegated, once again, to a place outside of his field of vision.
But there is still something joyful in Gordon, when his attention is captured by a newly-acquired doodad. His frenetic manner is always tempered by a degree of pleasure and enthusiasm. In these moments, he can be almost childlike.
Despite his idiosyncrasies, Gordon is essentially a good man. He also has strong beliefs about order, respect and duty. There is nothing wrong, of course, with such values, even though he can be overbearing at times.
At least, that's my opinion on the matter.
***
Weed, on the other hand, had little to say about Gordon's camcorder. He was far more interested in the concept of a "mental health day" as an employee benefit. If the call centre was willing to give him a supply of such days, he said he would be willing to be known as a "technology servant."
Oscar, however, had mixed feelings about Gordon's mental health days. As a taxpayer, he said he wasn't crazy about the idea of paying for Gordon's gadget-buying expeditions.
On the other hand, he said there was probably some merit in such a benefit, at least in Gordon's case.
"If there's anyone I know that needs a good supply of mental health days," he said with a grin, "it would have to be Gordon."
***
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