The chairperson recited the Lord’s Prayer for which some councillors stood while others remained seated; then with some popping up and down, they sang the National Anthem. Councillor Rader remained seated for both, perhaps regarding God and the Queen as seniors.
“I think we have a few questions from the floor,” the chairperson said when council reached that item on the agenda.
Polly Mathis stood up. “Yes, sir. First, I want to commend Councillor Rader for his excellent taste in clothes. That sports jacket is well tailored and very flattering, a masterpiece of sartorial elegance.” Nasty Norman nodded his thanks, but was clearly puzzled. “I would remind him, however, that it violates a rule passed in September, 1921, and never revoked, as far as I know, which says that ‘Every councillor attending a council meeting must wear a white shirt and dark tie and suit.’ I hope that at the next meeting the councillor will be properly attired.”
As Polly sat down to a smattering of applause, Curtis Strong leapt to his feet. “On my way in, I noticed a car with the licence plate IQ 1000 parked outside without anyone beside it. A bylaw from March, 1903 requires ‘that any vehicle’ — and that I presume that includes horseless carriages or gas mobiles, as they called cars then — ‘shall not be parked between eight p.m. and eight a.m. without an adult watching it.’ It’s a fine-looking car. Does it belong to anyone here?”
Rader went red-faced with embarrassment or anger. “It’s mine,” he growled. More applause.
Vera Sterne popped up like a jill-in-the-box. “A number of local businesses were very pleased to receive Christmas cards from one of our councillors, beautiful cards which they appreciated very much, but in June, 1947, a bylaw was passed stating that in the interest of fairness, no councillor may send any cards or gifts to any business. Clearly some councillor has violated this law.”
Perhaps Mr. Rader had some chameleon blood because his red face now turned purple with rage.
Dieter Meindt was on his feet immediately. “Mr. Chairman, what is the penalty for breaching council bylaws?”
“I…I’m not sure. The situation is unprecedented. We’ll have to consider it.”
After the verbal pryotechnics of the seniors’ show, the meeting proceeded with its customary slowness and boredom, except for the complete silence of Mr. Rader.
When the meeting adjourned, the four seniors who were Norman’s nemeses and I went to Ifor’s house for a restrained celebration and, we heard, it was not the only one in Blandsville that night.
The next morning news spread among the wheelchair-and-walker set that Rader, chagrined, had resigned his seat on council and that afternoon a for-sale sign sprouted on his front lawn. He would harass seniors in Blandsville no more.
In the by-election to replace him, Polly ran and, with no opposition, she was acclaimed. Her first act was to move for the complete update of the town’s bylaws. I declined the job, so Ifor did it. Thanks to the seniors, Blandsville was being dragged and pushed slowly into the twenty-first century.
I visited Carl to thank him for his help. “By the way, how is your work going on the Shakespearean authorship question?”
“It’s on hold. Sally and I have been talking about the big M word.”
“Marlowe?” I said innocently. “You’ve become Marlovians? You think that Christopher Marlowe wrote the plays?”
“No. Marriage.” Then he realized I was joking. “Just for that, we shouldn’t invite you to the wedding. Then you’ll miss seeing ex-Councillor Rader.”
“Will he be invited?”
“Of course.”
Then I realized he was joking. Tit for tat is fair.
