The Appendix historical society meets and votes to commission Quin

I think one very interesting thing in viewing our lives as stories, is how stories intersect. In this section Quins story begins to be intersected by the historical society's....

The Society had added a few new members in their first five years, but the Appendix Historical Society had not added another member in the past twenty years. A few members had let their annual membership dues of twenty-five dollars lapse, but most had let their health lapse and had had to be removed from the membership roll because they had been removed from the rolls of the living. Now there were only the five left for their quarterly meeting.

The meeting began with Red calling the meeting to order. The meeting always began promptly at nine even though all the members would be there by 8:30. They would gather at 8:30 and eat the day old plain and powdered donuts that Red had picked up that morning from the supermarket on the way to the meeting. They would also drink the scalding hot extra strong coffee that Red made at 8:15. Red was very precise when he made coffee. He always made certain that he filled the filter all the way to the top with grounds. With this method he consistently turned out very bitter, very dark, strong coffee.

The members talked ate donuts and drank coffee for half an hour as they sat on the metal folding chairs that are the staple of all church basements.

At about 8:58 Red would say to one of the members, “Well it is just about time to get this show on the road.” Then he would gravely get to his feet and walk to the podium that stood at the ready by the table that was home to the donuts and coffee. At precisely 9:00 AM he would begin the meeting by solemnly banging a gavel on the podium as loud as his old arm would allow; three times.

He had been banging the gavel since the first meeting of the historical society. Ed Reynolds had told Red that they needed a gavel, before the first meeting. He said that it would give the society legitimacy. Red immediately latched onto the idea. He had never led anything before in his life so the gavel became the symbol of his leadership and authority.

He learned in the first meeting that sometimes simply having the right costume is what matters. During that first meeting he banged the gavel and everyone came to attention. Later that meeting they had elected him president and he had been president ever since. He had led the historical society through six different US presidents.

That fall he again banged the gavel and brought the meeting to order. However on this day instead of handing the podium over to one of the other members to tell a story that the committee had heard a hundred times before, he kept the podium to himself. He decided that this would be the morning that he would share a plan that had been forming in his mind since early summer when he had first heard that his grandson would be moving home to teach at the college. He had rehearsed how he would deliver the plan a number of times before the meeting, and though he had practiced he was still a bit nervous, though he need not have been.
The four members of the audience listened in rapt attention as he unveiled his second stroke of genius.

He began with a bit of self- reflection. “Fellow members of the Appendix Historical Society, it has been my great pleasure to stand behind this podium and serve as your President for these past thirty years. I love this society as it has helped me remember the best days of my life. Ed Reynolds and I talked a number of years ago about the need to remember the great events of our youth, and we decided that we would invite others to help us in the remembering. Many joined us in this endeavor. The intention always was to remember and to commit the memories to paper, so as we passed on our memories would not.”

The members of the society nodded in agreement with all that Red was saying. “Well I’m sorry to say that many of our members in good standing have passed on, and yet we do not have anything on paper.” The members shook their head in grim recognition of the sad truth.

“Well ladies and gentlemen I suggest that this is no longer acceptable. I fear that I myself am drawing closer to that other side, and I do not want this work to be left undone. I propose that we draw upon the savings of the Historical society and commission a writer to write this history, so that after we are gone a record will remain of what life was like in our youth. So the chair will entertain a motion to commission a writer to write the history of Appendix, MI and its Carnivals.”

One of the members immediately jumped to their feet and shouted, “Mr. President, I move that a writer be commissioned to write a history of Appendix and its carnivals.” The other three remaining members said immediately in unison. “Second.”

Red smiled as he said, “It has been properly moved and seconded that the society commission a writer to write a History of Appendix and its carnivals. Is there any discussion?” Each member of the society basically repeated the gist of Red’s opening statement. They all hit the main points. They wanted to get something on paper so that the memories would live. Each also noted that a bunch of their members had “passed on,” and they were approaching that marker themselves. After the fourth member had spoken they brought the matter to a vote and the motion carried unanimously.

Red banged the gavel, “The motion carries. Now I suggest that we move quickly on this motion and commission a writer as soon as possible. I would like to make a suggestion, but it is of course entirely up to the society. I have no special say just because I am the president. Many of you probably remember my grandson Quin. He was the kid who pitched the shutout in the state championship game the year that Appendix won the state title. Well Quin has always loved Appendix and has moved back into the area.  He is teaching literature at the College. He has studied writing and he loves Appendix, and I know that he would be willing and that he would do an outstanding job writing the history.”

Red paused. In that brief pause one of the members was on their feet. “Mr. President I move that the society commission a son of Appendix, Professor Quin Holsten to write the History of Appendix.” Again there was a unanimous second. Again Red asked for discussion and each member repeated similar things and the phrase “son of Appendix” was a particular favorite of the committee. The last member of the society to speak summed up the attitude of the whole, “Who could possibly better write a History of Appendix than one of her own sons. I urge the society to vote in unison on this very important matter.” They did just that.