Mayor George studied the papers in front of him. “Up next is a proposal to turn approximately three thousand square feet of Osborne Park into a vegetable garden for the benefit of those living there.”
He looked up with a woeful expression, as if he knew he was about to catch serious grief. “Any comments?”
More mutters of disapproval bubbled up from the crowd, but Mom was the only one who raised her hand. I felt proud when she stood up and turned so that she was speaking to the crowd as well as the council. “I’d just like to say a few things. First, the vegetable garden will save the town money because the residents will eat what they grow. This will also help them have a healthier diet, which should cut down on medical costs. In addition there’ll be certain times of the year when we’ll probably grow more than we’ll be able to consume, and we can sell the surplus at the farmer’s market and use the money to pay for fertilizer, farming tools, and other expenses. Finally, a garden will be beneficial because it will give the residents a reason to be active. As a resident of Dignityville myself, I’ve seen firsthand that oneof the problems is that not everyone has enough to—”
“They could be looking for jobs!” a man snarled loudly, and a large part of the crowd clapped.
Mom set her jaw firmly. “Many of them already have jobs,” she snapped. “And some of those who don’t have been looking for years . And if you’ve ever been unemployed, you know how disheartening that can be.”
I felt like clapping, but didn’t want to attract attention to myself. I think some of the crowd was caught off guard by how ardent and unafraid Mom was. She gathered herself and then continued more calmly. “As I was saying, when they’re not looking for jobs, they would have something rewarding to do instead of sitting around watching TV. This garden won’t cost the town anything, and there’ll be nothing permanent about it. When the time comes to dismantle Dignityville, they’ll just plow it under, seed it with grass, and it’ll be a park again.”
A couple of people muttered under their breath, but no one rose to argue. Mom thanked the council and sat.
Mayor George held a vote. The vegetable garden was approved four to three.
The meeting ended and people began to leave. Uncle Ron was coming down the aisle when Meg and I stood up. When he saw us, he looked perplexed, as if embarrassed to have spoken so harshly against the place where we were now living. I decided to make it easier for him. “How are the twins?”
He appeared to relax. “Still getting into mischief,” he said, then added, “They ask about you.”
“I’ll try to get over there,” I said.
“They’d like that.” He glanced toward the front of the room, where Mom and Dad were speaking with the town engineer. “How’re you doing?”
“Hanging in. Having that garden’ll make Mom happy.”
Uncle Ron’s nose twitched. It was weird. Here we were, family, but also enemies. Famenies. He sighed, nodded, and continued down the aisle.
“You know him?” Meg asked, not hiding her surprise.
“He’s my mother’s brother.”
“ That man is your uncle?” she said, astonished. “Why’s he so against Dignityville?”
I explained that he was a real estate lawyer and had some half-finished condominiums that no one wanted. “I think he’s got some pretty serious financial problems.”
Meg didn’t reply. As we left Town Hall and started back toward Dignityville, I felt kind of weird, because in a way Uncle Ron was right. Aubrey did envision Dignityville becoming permanent. While that would be good for the homeless in town, there would be others, like Ron, who might be hurt.
Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm. “Dan?”
We’d gotten to a busy corner. The light was red.
“Were you going to stop?” Meg gave me a concerned look.
I wasn’t even aware that we’d been about to cross the street. “Thanks,” I said.
“Are you
He looked up with a woeful expression, as if he knew he was about to catch serious grief. “Any comments?”
More mutters of disapproval bubbled up from the crowd, but Mom was the only one who raised her hand. I felt proud when she stood up and turned so that she was speaking to the crowd as well as the council. “I’d just like to say a few things. First, the vegetable garden will save the town money because the residents will eat what they grow. This will also help them have a healthier diet, which should cut down on medical costs. In addition there’ll be certain times of the year when we’ll probably grow more than we’ll be able to consume, and we can sell the surplus at the farmer’s market and use the money to pay for fertilizer, farming tools, and other expenses. Finally, a garden will be beneficial because it will give the residents a reason to be active. As a resident of Dignityville myself, I’ve seen firsthand that oneof the problems is that not everyone has enough to—”
“They could be looking for jobs!” a man snarled loudly, and a large part of the crowd clapped.
Mom set her jaw firmly. “Many of them already have jobs,” she snapped. “And some of those who don’t have been looking for years . And if you’ve ever been unemployed, you know how disheartening that can be.”
I felt like clapping, but didn’t want to attract attention to myself. I think some of the crowd was caught off guard by how ardent and unafraid Mom was. She gathered herself and then continued more calmly. “As I was saying, when they’re not looking for jobs, they would have something rewarding to do instead of sitting around watching TV. This garden won’t cost the town anything, and there’ll be nothing permanent about it. When the time comes to dismantle Dignityville, they’ll just plow it under, seed it with grass, and it’ll be a park again.”
A couple of people muttered under their breath, but no one rose to argue. Mom thanked the council and sat.
Mayor George held a vote. The vegetable garden was approved four to three.
The meeting ended and people began to leave. Uncle Ron was coming down the aisle when Meg and I stood up. When he saw us, he looked perplexed, as if embarrassed to have spoken so harshly against the place where we were now living. I decided to make it easier for him. “How are the twins?”
He appeared to relax. “Still getting into mischief,” he said, then added, “They ask about you.”
“I’ll try to get over there,” I said.
“They’d like that.” He glanced toward the front of the room, where Mom and Dad were speaking with the town engineer. “How’re you doing?”
“Hanging in. Having that garden’ll make Mom happy.”
Uncle Ron’s nose twitched. It was weird. Here we were, family, but also enemies. Famenies. He sighed, nodded, and continued down the aisle.
“You know him?” Meg asked, not hiding her surprise.
“He’s my mother’s brother.”
“ That man is your uncle?” she said, astonished. “Why’s he so against Dignityville?”
I explained that he was a real estate lawyer and had some half-finished condominiums that no one wanted. “I think he’s got some pretty serious financial problems.”
Meg didn’t reply. As we left Town Hall and started back toward Dignityville, I felt kind of weird, because in a way Uncle Ron was right. Aubrey did envision Dignityville becoming permanent. While that would be good for the homeless in town, there would be others, like Ron, who might be hurt.
Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm. “Dan?”
We’d gotten to a busy corner. The light was red.
“Were you going to stop?” Meg gave me a concerned look.
I wasn’t even aware that we’d been about to cross the street. “Thanks,” I said.
“Are you
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