From the Archives • December 2000

Curiouser and curiouser.

Hunter S. Thompson recently wrote a column suggesting we get used to cannibalism. I'm sure he meant it in a political sense. We are witnessing a historical shift in this country. An un-civil war has broken out in our streets, and this time it's not anarchists in Seattle, or Rage Against the Machine in LA; it's Republicans in Florida. "Outside agitators" are once again invading the South. But this time they aren't riding 'Freedom Buses,' they are flying Business Class and staying at the Hilton, and the bills are being sent to the Republican Party. They are in Florida because they say they want to prevent the Democrats from "stealing" the election. They paid good money and lots of it, for this election, and they intend to get what they paid for. The Democrats spent their share, and like the Republicans, were told by their party bosses that, "The fix was in."

For an old Sixties radical this is a bit too surreal. Republicans rioting? When the tear gas hits do they put their power ties up to their faces and chant: "The Wall Street Journal is watching!! The Wall Street Journal is watching!!"? Will violence break out? Will the Florida National Guard get trigger-happy? Will Wayne Newton have a hit with "Four Dead in Orlando?" We certainly hope not, but when things get this weird it's not easy to write parody, you too often find that you have underestimated the imagination of the American electorate.

It seems that after literally billions of dollars were spent, and debates were held, and scandals were exposed and pundits had pontificated, we still have a dead heat. And who ever wins will enter the office amid cries of fraud and corruption. We don't seem to really mind our politicians buying an office, usually Republicans, and historically we have been forgiving of those who steal an office, usually Democrats, but we expect them to do it quietly or with style. The current situation shows both men incapable of either keeping their mouths shut or showing the slightest bit of panache.

A major part of the problem with this election is that even though the 'party machines' worked pretty well, and the propaganda people did their job in spades, giving each candidate a strong foundation to work from, neither man could stir the hearts of the nation. Neither is a leader, and neither will be their party's candidate in 2004.

Perhaps we will know who the President-elect is by the next issue of the Edge; perhaps not; but we already know that our country has changed and will never be the same again. This could be a good thing.

Mo' Stuff

So, what's the problem? Just do it, and keep the creek clean, right? Well, maybe, but then what about the wet lands system? Will it just become an oddity, a memorial to a time when this village wasn't afraid to try different ways of living in a closer harmony with this beautiful place? Will we just do the easy thing? Will we continue to grant permits for more buildings and more sewage until we overwhelm the system and the hope that built it? Will we turn the wetlands on Spruce Street into public parking? The word is we have a new Public Works Director who will be taking on this situation immediately, and we would urge our readers to let her know how they feel about our unique system and encourage her to find a solution that is as simple and beautiful as the one we now have. Yes, that's right, our new Public Works Director is a woman, and an engineer.

Open Letter From Rex Amos

I hope you can help get the word out that Sigrid Clark's mascot, Rubber Ducky, has been stolen from the Goose Hollow Inn. Added to her sudden death from meningitis this year, this theft only compounds the sadness of Sigrid's family, friends, employees, and patrons of the Goose Hollow Inn. Let me tell you why. In the spring of 1987 Sigrid asked me to come to the Goose to help her decide what to do with a 30 pound unpainted concrete goose. This was when Bud was mayor and Sigrid was running the Goose. She jokingly told me that it was too bad the concrete goose wasn't a rubber ducky because Bud had never been the same since he lost his rubber ducky. I asked her if this loss had happened when he was mayor or when he was a kid. She laughed but never gave me a definitive answer. Instead she gave me the goose to take home and find the answer to her riddle, "How do you turn a concrete goose into a rubber ducky?" Being a collage artist, it didn't take me long to find the raw material which solved the riddle. In the stacks of printed material friends save for me, I found catalogues advertising condoms. The different brands were all illustrated in colorful reproductions about the size of big and little postage stamps. Eureka! The answer to "How do you turn a concrete goose into a rubber ducky?" was, "Cover it with condom ads."

I was caring for my mother, who was suffering from Alzheimer's, at home during this time, so production of the Rubber Ducky became collaboration. Mom loved to cut out areas I'd outline with a felt tip pen. Then, when I'd refined the rough cut, she enjoyed picking up the images and helping me arrange them into a collage. So, the condoms were a real treat. Being an old nurse, she had a good sense of humor and purpose. Her Alzheimer's hadn't yet clouded that part of her brain. So, we spent an hour or two each day for a few weeks cutting, arranging, and gluing condom ads onto the concrete goose. When the project was done, we had a ceremony at the Goose, where Sigrid got Mom to eat her first oyster shooter. It was Sigrid who encouraged me to bring Mom to the Goose once a week, not only for a social occasion, but so Sigrid could help me monitor Mom's Alzheimer's. And it was the occasion of the unveiling of Rubber Ducky that I shall always remember as the most joyful afternoon Sigrid, Mom, and I spent together. Sigrid put her mascot Rubber Ducky on the bar in the Goose, and it has remained there unmoved since 1987 until its theft. As Bud said to me, the disappearance of Ducky is not a mere theft, it is the loss of something significant about Sigrid. Of course, the person who stole Rubber Ducky had no way of knowing its importance.

Perhaps someone reading this column will know who took Ducky and get that person to bring it back to the Goose. There is precedent. Years ago, Bud's mascot Bismarck was stolen. The heavy metal sculpture of Bismarck was gone for three years. Then Bud got a call from a woman who wanted to meet him in the parking lot at the Goose. She told Bud she was going through a divorce and hated the man she was divorcing, the man who had stolen Bismarck. So, she opened her car's trunk and there was Bismarck. Perhaps we won't have to wait so long for the return of Rubber Ducky.

As you can tell, I am terribly upset by this stupid act of thievery. Everyone who came to the Goose to look at the Rubber Ducky or to show Ducky to friends can't believe it is gone. But more than Rubber Ducky is the feeling that a unique statement of Sigrid's has been taken from us.

(So, has the duck turned up yet?)

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