Newark Representative

He was out of the door. He signaled for his car to start. In about fifteen minutes, he had arrived at his office. As the town comptroller of Newark, Delaware, he was a representative of over 30,000 people. His name was Jennings Wyatt. Slight build and angular, he kept his office together with a wiry sense of humor combined with a no nonsense demeanor.

“Mr Wyatt, we have a conference call with the mayor. It’s at ten,” Shepard Brendt reminded him.

“I know, Shep. It’s only the most important call of the week.”

Over the Internet, the two city officials connected.

“Hiya, Wyatt.”

“Mr. Mayor.”

“It’s almost like we’re two offices over. Hey! That’s right we’re just a skip away.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I just wanted to bring you up to speed on how you should be keeping digital records and converting the old files into digital ones. I mean you won’t have to do it. Just get some clerk fresh out of DIT to do it. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You have to help me with my campaign to run for office again. It will be fun…this time….”

Wyatt remembered the hours past the limit stuffing envelopes and swiping stamps with the little water device. This went on for months. It decidedly was not fun.

“This time you won’t have any worries, I guarantee it. All you have to do is delegate on which places around town you wish to keep your staff for the moments leading up to D-Day,” Mayor Quixby Ashley addressed.

Wyatt hated when he said “D-Day.” Thousands of Americans died for their own freedoms decades ago just so he could have a pithy metaphor…disgusting.

“That’s right, sir. We’ll be able to canvas huge swaths of downtown as well as the surrounding streets and blocks.”

“That’s why I hired you, Wyatt. You’re truly a class act that can get the job done.”

A flurry of cliches, Wyatt thought, I’m keeping my mind about me, I’m keeping my mind about me, I’m keeping….

“So that’s all there is. I just wanted to drop a bug in your ear,” Ashley had to get one last chestnut in there.

“That’s right, sir. I’ve received and understood.”

“That’s good, Wyatt. Let’s end this in prayer,” Mayor Ashley started.

“Sir, I’ve gotta go,” Wyatt responded.

“Okay, but the Lord—” Wyatt was already out of the door. He took a drive downtown where most of the action was. DIT, the dealerships, the restaurants, the whole heart of Main Street pumped until an artery burst. The students still intent on studies and the next party populated the area like fresh dew upon morning glories.

Wyatt kept his eyes and ears open, ready to spot that next spot to promote Ashley’s latest campaign. With his smarts as a used car dealer, then a head chef, then a community college star, he lent his past performances to this present predicament.

With all his training, he could have been an assistant manager at the local grocery store, easily. Instead, he had a calling for a small government. He wanted to not change the city for anyone but himself. A surge of pride went up his backbone as he realized his placement as comptroller and smiled.

Then, he thought about the office. The drabness, the enclosed spaces, the barely enough room to room around much less to breathe. He sighed and reentered his vehicles. With the thought that he could change Newark for the better, he brought about a sense of joy amongst the ruins. He sought only to bring a face of fortitude.

Rapt, in all he experienced downtown, he drew on what would normally be not seen on the streets…or among desktops and pencil holders. He stood before his merry band of officer workers and spoke like a lieutenant in the field. A commanding officer, just with a low rank.

“I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it. This city is flourishing. We should keep that going. We should be able to view our city as well, one that is growing, prospering with the verve of a young, obscure rockstar. It shouldn’t be hard to discern what makes this place really thrive. We have been tasked with bringing justice and beauty and for preserving order in Newark. That’s what I intend to do.”