Chapter 6
Greener Valley, Early Saturday Morning: It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like A Clusterfuck
The first inkling that something’s amiss is the lack of snow. It’s a slow realization and the people of Greener Valley at first walk around as if they are trying to remember something they forgot - did I turn off the stove when I left? Did I close the garage? And some of them go home to check on these things, but no, that's not it. This Winter Festival day feels off kilter, and a feeling of unease permeates the still air.
The most special thing about Greener Valley is the near perfection within which it exists. It never rains on the Fourth of July picnic. It’s always sunny on a parade day. The springs are perfect, with just the right mixture of sunshine and rain to ensure a beautiful harvest of azaleas and impatiens and roses in every yard. The summers are hot and dry, except when rain is needed, and then it rains. The autumns are colorful and spectacular and the weather is always perfect on Halloween; cool enough to make it feel right, warm enough so the kids can wear their costumes without a jacket. And it always snows on the opening Saturday of the Winter Festival. Always. To an outsider, Greener Valley exists in a snow globe and some giant hand of fate always shakes the snow globe on just the right day.
But not today. Jake Fetterling notices first and he tugs at his mother’s jacket, concern etched on his six-year old face.
“Where’s the snow, mommy?” Mrs. Fetterling looks up. Clear, blue skies. Not a single cloud blemishes the scene.
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Fetterling brings her hands to her throat in a flutter of worry. “This isn’t right.”
And then the murmurs start, from the men on the ladders stringing garland across the light poles, to the ladies from the Civic Club setting up hot cocoa and donuts, to the children collecting canned goods for the needy, to Hank Hoffman, struggling to get the Santa costume over his gut.
“It’s...not snowing!”
“How weird”
“What the hell?”
“I’ve never seen the sky so god damn blue.”
That sense of unease multiplies and settles throughout the town center as everyone cranes their neck skyward, expectantly, as if dark snow clouds will suddenly swoop in, apologizing for their lateness. After a few minutes, the Greener Valley residents get back to their Winter Festival duties, but the unease lingers.
Over at the radio station, Stu McLundy drinks Jack Daniels from his boss’s Dixie riddle cups. It’s 8:59 am on Saturday morning and Stu just might be drunk. It’s not a new drunk, but a continuation from the previous night’s date with Jack Daniels. Stu McLundy’s about to, for the first time, do Scratch and Skip With Stu McLundy while wasted. And this isn’t just any Saturday edition of Scratch and Skip. This is the Greener Valley Winter Festival edition, the one in which he blindly MCs the festivities from the studio, a smattering of phone calls giving him cues as to when to make which announcement. He does this all day, calling Hank up to the podium, announcing the junior high kickline and the Greener Valley Elementary School chorus, presiding over the pledge of allegiance and playing the hits of the ‘70s and various Christmas songs while the residents decorate the square and the surrounding streets, all piped into the town center over loudspeakers. At 6:00, Stu will close his show with The DeFranco Family’s “Heartbeat” as he always does. Even though it’s not a Christmas song, it’s his signature song and the town wouldn’t have it any other way. Stu will then walk over to the town center to announce the official lighting of the Christmas tree and the beginning of the Greener Valley holiday season.
Stu McLundy has been doing this radio show for fifteen years. Weeknights from six to ten and Saturdays from ten to six. His voice is as part of the town as any fire hydrant or flagpole. It’s a fixture. It’s a good thing good no one in Greener Valley knows Stu was fired last night. It would break their heart on what is always Greener Valley’s finest day of the year. No more “Heartbeat.” No more sounds of the ‘70s. No more Stu McLundy. He’s not supposed to tell anyone about the demise of his show until he puts the needle down on “Hearbeat” for the last time Sunday evening, but Stu McLundy has his drink on and a drunk man sometimes forgets the promises he makes. Or the job he’s supposed to do.
Stu starts off his show with a Motown version of “Winter Wonderland.” For the first hour or so he usually just plays some Christmas music and doesn’t say much while the people of Green Valley get everything ready to go. He sets the mood and does so right on cue with “Winter Wonderland.” People sigh with relief when the music starts, as if it chases away whatever worries they had about the day not going right. Everyone starts chattering again. Even though the sky is still clear, they have Stu McLundy and the music has started so it’s all going to be ok.
When the song ends, Stu McLundy breathes heavy into the microphone, forgetting for a minute where he is and what he’s supposed to be doing.
Dead air.
The town stops. Holds its breath. Stu sighs and says “Scratch and Skip. Holiday edition. Stu McLundy here.” His voice is heavy and thick and reeks of sadness - not at all the happy-go-lucky, smooth baritone the residents of Greener Valley are used to hearing.
Greta Harrington makes the sign of the cross. Hank Hoffman drops his coffee cup. Everyone eyes the loudspeakers the same way they eyed the empty sky; incredulous, nervous. Something is very, very wrong in Greener Valley.
Stu puts the needle down on “The Night the Lights Went out in Georgia.” He introduces the song: “You can also say this is the day the lights went out in Greener Valley.”
On some level Stu remains aware of what he’s doing and a small voice in the back of his mind is imploring him to stop and pull himself together. Visions of chariots and shadowy people and a white haired woman in a bright dress dance in his head, but he pushes them away. The Stu that’s been drinking Jack Daniels all night wins this battle over the Stu that knows he’s about to doom Greener Valley to hell.
Stu moves to swipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead. He feels the new skin tear, right below his hairline. He makes no move to heal it. The show must go on.
He reintroduces the song, slurring some consonants, lingering on some vowels and as his elbow hits the needle a long, high-pitched skreeeeeech amplifies through the town square. A few people put their hands to their ears. Hank Hoffman turns white. Mrs. Fetterling dials her soon-to-be ex husband on her cell phone. And Stu McLundy simply picks up the needle, mutters an oops into the microphone, and starts the song over again. He fills his Dixie riddle cup (why is grass so dangerous? It has blades!) and throws back another course of his Jack Daniels breakfast. The small voice in his head nags at him, the tear in his forehead spreads a little, but Stu McLundy is a man possessed with getting his message out.