“Oh, no one is going to be arrested because this is a matter of justice.” He chewed on the pencil as if it were a real stogie. Maybe, in his mind he stood on a movie set, maybe in his imagination he thought he scratched at a genuine two-day stubble growing on his clean-shaven chin. He cleared his throat and started his
The number of people we help support each year is equal to almost
A THIRD OF SARASOTA COUNTY’S POPULATION.
monologue in a stilted loud voice. “What we’ve got here is a form of communication…” She rolled her eyes. “…It is justice for all the good hearted, law abiding, family loving, dog walking, lawn cutting, Little League coaching guys, the real guys of the world, real men who own homes in American neighborhoods. Country Oaks Subdivision is not God’s green little acre, owned and operated by just one man. It is a subdivision. A planned-unit-development governed by a standard set of warranties, covenants, and restrictions.” “But there are rules…” she whined. “Real rules.” Each syllable within his voice seemed to amplify,
COULD ONE OF THEM BE SOMEONE YOU CARE ABOUT?
not only the volume of his growing speech, but also the intensity of his conviction, his need for her to accept his argument. “Don’t you understand; legitimate and acceptable rules, voted upon and agreed to by the masses. Not the rules set by one single man. No, allow me to rephrase that—the mandates created by a single knuckle-dragging bully’s interpretation of the rules. We never voted Donaldson in as president of the association. It was a bloody coup. Am I right, Betty?” He threw his arm back towards Mrs. Wilson as if expecting to catch her answer in his bare hand; she harrumphed in agreement, causing her Boxer to flinch. “Donaldson just took over,” he continued. “I mow my lawn, I keep up my house, I take care of my fellow neighbors, do the watch thing, keep my porch light on, and yet, everything I do is wrong—not good enough. I’m not only doing this for me, I am doing this thing for you sweetheart, for our family, and for everyone standing behind me. Why don’t you join me, babe? We are doing this for the good of the neighborhood, for Country Oaks Subdivision.”
CAMPUS OF CARING The Glasser Schoenbaum Human Services Center is an internationally recognized concept in philanthropy and in nonprofit administration that supports organizations who deliver services to those in need in Sarasota and Manatee Counties. Celebrating our 25th anniversary, we currently provide homes to 19 nonprofit health and human service agencies on our campus at a deeply discounted occupancy rate, so they can focus on what’s important. Our reach is extraordinarily wide and our impact is profound. Just as your next donation can be.
There was applause from across the street. Mrs. Wilson giggled. Mr. Miller hooted. Behind her husband and she could see the shadow of the line of neighbors getting longer and longer. She felt her embarrassment, along with her patience wearing thinner and thinner. Yet, her husband continued staring at the wall, jiggling and fingering the loose trigger of the gun. “OKAY, big guy, so what are you waiting for?” “I am waiting,” he answered, “for the beginning notes to the theme of The Good, Bad and the Ugly to start in my mind.” “Good God.” She diverted her eyes to the heavens to plead her case but stopped when she heard a familiar hacking cough from the crowd. “Oh great, now Rudy’s here.”
1750 17th Street, Sarasota FL 34234 941.365.4545 Visit us on Facebook or at gs-humanservices.org to make a donation, view our event calendar and learn more. July 2015
July 2015 issue of SCENE Magazine