Yesterday, these planks were just planks.
Today, they are just steps.
Not even sanded or stained.
Not that anyone in the crowd would notice.
The handrails are, that is, both sanded and stained, but not for me.
I walk with my hands folded behind me, perhaps in a state of repose, perhaps not.
There are people here who will receive an employment check to make sure I do not get hurt when I climb the stairs to the top.
Ironically, there are people here who will receive an employment check to make sure I do fall, just right, when I am at the top.
All in a day’s work I suppose.
I get to hear the Mayor make his speech first.
His brother, the Judge, gets to say his part next.
Even the Reverend has a little something to add afterward.
The crowd pays a polite amount of respect to these town elders.
However, they all came to hear what I have to say.
Not that anyone cares what I have to say; only that I actually say what I have to say.
And who am I to disappoint them on this fine Sunday morning, just before Church services are to commence?
Just when each sits down, I am urged to stand up, but not yet to speak.
Apparently, I am in need of a formal introduction.
That honor befalls the local Sheriff who knows me best.
You might say I have had the honor of living with him for the past week.
His wife even cooked a grand meal for me last night.
“Fit for a King”, I told her.
“Wasn’t no never mind”, was all I heard her reply.
The Sheriff extolled the few virtues I did display and balanced this short list against the many failings of which the growing crowd has become all too aware of by now.
I had no interest in listening to the abridged narrative of my life.
However, the growing crowd of townsfolk seemed to have already “gotten the gist” of my biography.
Now it was my turn, for the Sheriff and I rehearsed this part late last night.
“Does the legally tried and convicted wish to make a statement?”
I nodded yes.
The hangman had the noose tied correctly and my hood at the ready.
“I wish to apologize for stealing all of those identities and life savings to finance my myriad of ill-gotten gains.”
By the look of the Reverend checking his pocket watch, it was time.
The hangman placed my hood over my head and then adjusted the noose as is his training.
But, I wasn’t yet finished with my oration.
“I offer a trade for your leniency.”
“Spare my life and I will divulge the real name identities, addresses, phone numbers, and bank account information of every similar scoundrel that has ever run off with the savings of anyone in this here territory.”
I greeted the Sheriff the next morning when he brought me biscuits and gravy for breakfast.
I seem to be wanted, for my newly advertised services, in many a town in this here territory.
And while I may not walk freely for a few years, I won’t be swinging at the end of a rope either.
Same can’t be said of the recently departed Judge or the Reverend.
Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 40 years. He lives in 1974, and has been married for 29 years. His works are found everywhere a search engine operates.