Read Online Population 485 by Michael Perry - Free Book Online Page B

assessment and scene-control portions of Emergency Care in the Streets . Rescue organizations devote entire four-day seminars to scene control—this particular circus would be the perfect study. The algorithm has not been designed that can cope with Tricky Jackson and his posse. The old-timers tell me that from the 1920s right up until the late 1970s the whole town used to turn out for the Free Show, a free open-air movie sponsored by the Commercial Club. The screen was set up in what is now my backyard. Videos and cable television killed the Free Show, but for a couple hours on a warm June evening, Tricky Jackson revived it. It is an accident scene, it is community theater, reality TV, and improv, all rolled into one.

    By the time it is all over, Tricky may or may not have been arrested—I have seen him in and out of handcuffs twice—Elmo is on his belated way to the hospital with Bill, Travis is in the approach path to the Luther Hospital helipad thirty miles away, and Shirley was last seen north of Slinger Joe’s, thumbing for a ride. We pick up the bandage wrappers, sweep up the glass, roll the hose, and engage in all the mundane little chores of denouement you rarely get to see on Paramedics . The crowd pretty much dispersed once the helicopter cleared the trees on Elm Street. The rain stopped a long time ago, and when I get back to my car, I find that the windshield wipers have been running dry for so long they are melting, leaving rubbery black streaks across the glass. On the drive to the fire hall, I see the townspeople filtering home, some of them visiting for a bit on the sidewalk. Their children course ahead of them, running and skipping, or pedaling furiously on colorful tricycles. The sky is gray, the night is warm. The grass in the yards is deep twilight green, and the rain seeps into the earth, draining the excitement from the air.

    Oliver Goldsmith died in 1773. He had just completed the dramatic comedy She Stoops to Conquer , which assured him of a spot in The Oxford Companion to English Literature .
    Cut to New York State, 1804. The citizens of Hardenburgh Corners are pleased to learn that the state commissioners intend to designate their town as the Cayuga County seat. Disquietude displaces pride, however, when certain members of the citizenry—apparently whelmed with the stately implications of this county seat business—opine that the name Hardenburgh Corners is an embarrassment of multisyllabic yokelism, a moniker neither dignified nor manageable (consider the letterhead), and wholly lacking the sense of eminence required of a county seat. It was an issue, wrote Henry Hall in an 1869 history, of propriety. “The subject,” he continued, “was therefore agitated.” Everyone clustered at Bostwick’s tavern and began kicking names around. Quite immediately, a Dr. Crossett suggested the adoption of “Auburn,” after the town in Goldsmith’s “Deserted Village.” Based on the lyrical implications (“…loveliest village of the plain”), Crossett’s suggestion was received with general approbation until a certain eponymic Colonel Hardenburgh pointed out that while Goldsmith’s Auburn may have been lovely, it was also the most neglected—indeed, deserted —village on the plain, and to redub Hardenburgh Corners so would foreshadow its decay and decline. Among the alternative names subsequently proffered were the foreshortened “Hardenburgh,” a stately “Mount Maria,” and, plainly enough, “Centre.” A roisterous debate ensued, followed by a vote, and Auburn emerged the favorite. Efforts to reverse the decision were mounted, and a second vote taken, but again, Auburn was the majority choice.
    We move now to western Wisconsin, 1856. A preacher named Priddy hikes into the area and sets up shop at the confluence of a creek. The spot will become Bloomer, Wisconsin. Priddy hails from New York State and has relatives in Cayuga County. When it comes time to carve up western Wisconsin and