Dad brought Junior down to the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa to bathe and greet the Face of Everyman. This ritual and common courtesy soon gets out of hand. By mid June the receiving line stretches around the block and the lite chatter by old what’s his name at greetings becomes more terse.
Once again tempers flared over a perceived sense of entitlement. Should the Spotted Towhee go first because he nested on the ground and probably was dirtier? And should the White-crowned Sparrow go next as he built his nest just a few feet above ground? Lastly should pushy immigrants, the House Sparrow, no better than English Starlings, be allowed to stare down decent common folks? the Face of Everyman held his tongue but resorted to his mind control abilities to plant in the mind of each guest that the the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa was a sanctuary for all and trivial attitudes should be left at the boundary.
Timmy, the Timid, took his cue from the startled expression on the Face of Everyman. Timmy had been diagnosed by the folks at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa Mental Health Clinic as panophobic. But, somehow this seemed different. If the venerable sage was alarmed then perhaps Timmy better rethink swimming today and just shower in the locker room.
Intense rains had fallen and flood waters overwhelmed the levees surrounding the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. Webster from FEMA came down to tell the Face of Everyman that it would be after lunch before the emergency pumps would be repaired. A Helo crew could drop K-rations or rescue the venerable sage if the swirling waters rose any higher. Everyman showed no concern; after all, he had experienced the crushing force of the Johnstown Flood of 1889.
Timmy was ambivalent about taking the new job offer. It was as a Highway Flagger, mostly a Summer position; standing all day directing traffic thru paving and construction sites. He sought the advice of the Face of Everyman knowing that the ancient sage could help him see the best course of action. Without dashing Timmy’s hopes Everyman pointed out that here at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa Summer was courting time, nest building time and all the pride filled things that come with being a Father. Timmy remained ambivalent.
Cyril had been working on his memoir. By Chapter Five he was up to his life as a third grader at the Montetorkie school in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. He was stuck. He couldn’t recall if that girl who stole a kiss was a Finch or a Grosbeak. Now he couldn’t even remember her name. He wanted his life story to be accurate and perhaps a bit gut wrenching. the Face of Everyman who had read the 1st draft assured him that nobody would notice. “Perhaps the name Mary would sound authentic enough.”
Little Indigo was faced with quandary. The big Friday night football game was getting ever closer. It was the Montetorkie Intellectuals against some foreign football team who called themselves Manchester United F.C. The sports program wasn’t all that big at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa K thru 12 but the Marching Band was highly regarded. So he asked the Face of Everyman if it was too late to ask to switch from his role as defensive line backer to snare drums. The venerable sage tried to wrap his mind around this unique question before he could even hope to craft a coherent response.