Manaloosa Memories

A general shortage of news has left me reporting on the start of school here in Manaloosa. I have to go to Walmart to be sure. Back to school sales and Halloween decorations are reminders  in every store nationwide.  Residents are hunkered down in the August equivalent of January up north. The weather is so at odds with the pursuit of human happiness it becomes by default a good time to organize photographs or take up genealogy. A very thin and sweaty UPS driver just walked quickly to the Maynard's front door. The pavement threatens to melt the soles of his shoes, so his bosses really love his speed at this time of year. He nervously scans a package and runs back to the truck. The Maynard's dogs have been loosed on him several times. Other drivers have refused this route and filed complaints.  This is the time of year we stop gloating about how great our weather is compared with the homeland back in Illinois. They have about six good days left of summer. Sunset is p...

Chuck Allen lived with his parents on the canal side of Harbor Vista Terrace in a bright orange stucco house.   Out back a twenty-two foot Sea Ray hovered above the murky brown waterway on a covered boat-lift that kept it mostly out of the weather. The salt air and pernicious humidity of southern Florida sought out corrodible boat parts the way water seeks its level, which is to say, the boat was rusting away from neglect. The lift stood on four round wooden pilings, eaten at the water line by wood-boring insects that mimicked the damage caused by beavers. Eventually the pilings would fail, but not for a few more years. Manaloosa’s tranquility was in more imminent danger of collapse. John Maynard sat on the edge of a weathered dock next to the lift in Chuck’s back yard. He held a bolt-action 22 caliber Remington rifle the boys found in the back of the shed where Mr. Allen kept his lawn mower.   Chuck was gathering oranges from a nearby tree. “Toss one in the water...