Dramatis Gatewelderii

It has been asked:
Is there a census or family Bible (annotations black, blue, one perhaps in purple the year Candy Anne took charge)? Or a yearbook, with photos in the matching tees that say Go Gatewelder…or Go Home that Cousin Bill (William-Bill, not Wilburn-Bill) had made for the picnic after the one Aunt Sister missed. Was Nathan the Most Popular Gatewelder? Aunt Sister (before, of course) the One Most Likely To Succeed?

No. No Bible. Nathan’s mama tried, poor thing. It gave her anxiety. She was fearful of missing another important event. Wrapped the one the Bible salesgirl sold her–red leather and full-color paintings–in tissue paper and put it in the bureau drawer. Constance told the undertaker “Put it in her coffin, but at her feet. It’s given her headaches enough.” Everybody’s born and dies on Facebook now.

And no Most this and Mostest that. No votes, no nominations. No committees. Rose. Rose would volunteer to chair each and every one, and smile, scatter paper. And leave Constance to work or delegate.

As to the census, well. Doreen, you know don’t you, does Art. (she had a booth at last year’s Longest Yard Sale, took in a pretty penny, too) And she’s been collecting junk mail. Swears she never reads a thing, but ask her where the census forms wound up, she’ll point to what is left (she’s selling them on Etsy) of thirty Piggy-Penny banks. Varicolored, glossy, papier mache. With easy-open brass screw belly buttons.


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