Just Like Always

The Upper Basin Chronicles

Chapter 22

Just Like Always

Harold Mundt walked to his mailbox just before lunch. The spiraling leaves of corn all around the farmstead stretched for the high July sun like the upraised arms of reverent worshipers. The dust from the just departed mail carrier's car, twin yellow lights flashing, rolled off the wheel wells as soon as the carrier cleared the oiled stretch in front of the Mundt place. Irene hated dust.

Getting the mail had changed for Harold after that idiot Minnesota kid had put pipe bombs around this part of the state. What a nut case! What on God's green earth made a kid do something like that? Harold shook his head as he pulled the mail from the box. He shuffled the letters atop the foundational Des Moines Register and Wall Street Journal.

Once Harold took a few steps from the road, he was walled in by corn surrounding his home. On every side of the five acre farmstead he could see the green plants standing tall in the hot sun. They crowded together in closed ranks, gripping the furrows like a mass of tall taloned green birds. This was good. A good corn crop; yes. A deep blue sky pulsed overhead. Small cumulus clouds stood still here and there.

What mail today? One letter from the National Corn Growers Association, always welcome here. One from the Farm Service Administration, likely some new program, could be interesting. Co-op invoice. John Deere Corporation letter, green stuff; corn, money. Harold smiled. Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail. Phone bill. Letter from son Daniel, Irene would like that. Finally, the last one, a thick one, in the crisp envelope of the well-appointed stationery used by Harold's stockbroker.

Harold Mundt stopped in the deep shade of a young red maple in the front yard. He put the two papers and the rest of the mail under his arm. He was not looking forward to this. He tore off the end of his broker's statement and unfolded the numerous pages inside.

He passed up the first one with its sweeping fountain-penned cursive signature and personal note at the bottom of the page. Then he pulled the back page forward and looked at the bottom line.

"Mercy!" Harold couldn't believe it. The word popped from his mouth, almost an uncharacteristic prayer. Harold compared this quarter's numbers with last quarter's, just to be sure. No question; it looked bad, real bad. Suddenly, his chest hurt. Harold felt weak. He needed to sit down. Harold headed for the cool of his living room.

"What happened to WorldCom? What happened to the Blue Chips?" Harold wondered as he sat down in his big lounge chair. He said the words, like a mantra of vanished wealth, "AT&T, IBM, GE, Johnson & Johnson; down, down, down, down." Harold thought he had seen the worst last year with the Enron mess. He'd lost some money, but it could have been worse, plenty worse. Nonetheless, this was bad, very bad. He'd trusted in, and acted on the advice of his broker, and now look at this! WorldCom, too?! Harold dropped the letter on the floor in disgust.

After a few moments he picked up his papers and spread them open on his lap. Yet, here, too, he found bad news. Leadership in trouble amid allegations of insider trading, corporate fraud, and just plain greed. What was next?

Finally, Harold stood up and stepped to the window. He leaned against the window jamb and stared out at the corn across the road. His corn. At least that was true. The corn grew straight and tall just like it always did. If you know what you're doing, some things will come through. Some things you can always count on. Always.

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Next week... "Redcedar Blue Rain," Chapter 23.

The Upper Basin Chronicles, Chapter 22 was written by John Gabbert with Martha Roldan. Edited by John Gabbert.

Comments? Email feedback to The Upper Basin Chronicles, Chapter 22.

The characters presented here are purely fictional, and neither bear resemblance to persons living or dead, nor represent the views or opinions of Saint Mary’s University of Minnesota.