Banking On Community Theater

The only thing I can think about is the magical spell that an area can project on its own silver screen capturing residents live performances on the reality stage, celebratory figures. Script reading a positive façade is the community glue that holds together people making them strong and safe. What are the caricatures in this theatrical production? That question can be answered by understanding two factors, the political headliners sitting on their pulpit behind a wooden chamber with microphones who earlier in the day passed a sound check and the suspicious individual waltzing into the theater when they want to, ‘the journalist from the information outlet looking for something to stir things up, kindly reporting to the townspeople what is going on throughout the land where they have invested’.

“I have lived here my entire life,” an elderly lady sat in the pew telling the notepad taker, "cheered football you know, my husband was the quarterback.”

Smiling with a chuckle, the fact finder scribbled in his steno for the hundredth eightieth time that Mrs. Williamson, ‘is once again spinning the tale about how she helped our school win the state championship’.

“Mrs. Williamson,” the daytime bank teller played into the conversation, “Mr. Williamson’s financial accounts, are fine, nothing to worry about at all.”

“Well, thank you Mr. Fargo,” Mrs. Williamson responded breathing easily enjoying the teenage investment she made decades ago screaming on the sidelines, “it’s the grandkids you know, and Archie always had enough money to make everyone happy.”

“I watch the account every day as per your request, Mrs. Williamson, and everything is very healthy.”

“Archie, did love gambling, down at the horse track and some of those maiden claimers,”

“Mrs. Williamson, our paper did a study and if the races were fixed, they were rare as the stake purses on the weekend menu where you could make a nice profit before enjoying, the side dishes down at the Country Man Gentlemen Saloon.”

“Yes, maybe that is the reason that is why they call them fix ins,” she smiled.

As the part-time personalities assembled into their seats after meeting in the backstage quorum each one acknowledged Mrs. Williamson in a different way.

“We are sorry,” they each recited running acceptable lines, “your husband did a lot here in our community, he was a good man.”

“Almost played with the fellow with the initials Y.A.,” Mrs. Williamson paused, “I cannot remember his title.”

“Young adult,” the periodical writer interjected.

“That is what we were, young adults, and how the game of life has changed, so much.”

Hours slipped away and sitting on the all-night owl diner’s counter stool the hard-working image flipped steno pages and wrote on the laptop computer while the future approached him with a pick me up.

“You're working late?”

“Idiot brother should have been here earlier,” the adolescent explained, “you know Dexter the quarterback asked me if I needed a ride home. But I told him my brother is supposed to do that.”

“And you are here coffee pot in hand getting overtime.”

“That is true,” the server agreed, “you know I cheered that dork in football last year.”

“And they almost made it to the playoffs.”

“Except for that one play,” a senior voice exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know,” the waitress smirked.

“Archie had money on the other school I found out and Rex her brother coincidently made a dumb mistake.”

“Whoops and suddenly,” Donna shrugged her shoulders, "we had money for our spring production, ‘Gone With The Wind’”.

“I tell you Donna,” Mr. Williamson took a seat, “you were a wonderful southern belle, my husband enjoyed the accent and the legs.”

“Just doing my job watching over things making sure the main cast went in the proper direction.”

“That is what I love about you Donna Read,” Mrs. Williamson applauded, “you always have a good story to tell.”

“So does our money managing advisor.”

A few days passed and sitting in the eatery's newsstand next to the cashier, a headline blared, “Community Communication Wins Bets All The Time, a story as told to Barclay Fargo.”