Topic: Sixteen Tons

The Redneck

Date: 2015-05-20 10:42 EST
(Over a month back, an in character conversation, and request, gave the redneck an idea to help with a memorial for someone a dear one had recently lost. During the intervening time, the original idea morphed, evolved really, into something more.
(At the town meeting for April Thorn brought up the proposal of memorial parks, as a tangible way for people to remember their lost ones. And as a way to help the less affluent neighborhoods where there were no safe places for children, and adults, to play.
(This thread is the long delayed beginning of that project. Back dated, retroactive a bit to keep the flow going. This thread is also open, anyone who expressed interest in helping clear the land at the beginning of this project is welcome to post here.
(Another thread will be created later for the planting and designing of the park itself. That thread will also be open.)


Work had begun just a few weeks back. Wide eyed, wary children and adults watched as an area equal to six square blocks were cleared of structures, foundations, debris, trash, and other far less pleasant things.

The work site had been fenced off for the safety of the public, and the safety of the crews it turned out when one of the younger men wound up needing stitches from an attempted mugging. Nevertheless, behind the thin barrier that no one expected anyone to actually pay mind to, the clean up progressed at an intimidating pace.

That pace kicked up several notches when another crew came in to augment the first couple. Round the clock now, with lights burning into the night, the work progressed.

Some of the people who came to watch, some of the street-tough younglings who hadn't lost their sense of wonder yet were enlisted to help keep the site clean and clear of hazards. Some of the older ones, the teens with hard eyes and sneering mouths, kept the thieves and worse away.

As with the Brambles, tables were set up out front round the clock, always with plenty of food and coffee or soft drinks to go around, to be shared out. An addition though, with this project there was another table, with pictures and plans and suggestion boxes so that the neighborhood would be know exactly what the plan was as it went along, and have a hand in the outcome. For those who couldn't read, a borrowed grandmother was on hand to explain and listen to their concerns and ideas as well.

Gemethyst

Date: 2015-05-20 11:36 EST
Gem looked at the progress occurring with the dirt removal and other things to make a place for honoring loved ones. A faint smile tilted her lips before she turned to look at some of her staff from Quellarin.

Studying the ex-pirate whose face would make small children scream and run, she nodded to him. "Right, then, Fagan, you start with the heavy lifting and digging, and be sure to keep that peg leg of yours out of the soft mud. We do not have a crane to lift you out if you sink down again!" A pause, and then she added a bit more. "And no spitting your tabac juice on people's feet!" He looked resigned but willing, and headed off, the double-bladed battle ax he insisted on always carrying bouncing on his bulky back.

Her gaze then moved over to Elsie, her ACWA (Aged Cook With Attitude). "You go ahead and find Thorn and see what is needed in the way of food and drink. And remember, just because someone is rude doesn't mean you get to poison them!" It sounded like an oft said phrase for some reason. The older woman, dressed in black poplin and stiff, starched white linen nodded primly and set off to the tables with hands folded neatly across her middle and a grim look on her rather homely pudding-face.

The elf studied Bart for many seconds. He stood before her, tall and eager, his slightly bulging eyes darting here and there trying to find pretty women to ogle while he awaited instructions. "Bart." He'd found a likely carriage to consider, slack lips falling open to grin, an unfortunate look for him as he had missing and blackened teeth. "BART!" He snapped to and looked at Gem with every appearance of slavish devotion. "Ar?," he mumbled. The elf squinted at him with meaning. "If you want to return home tonight in possession of your danglies, you will not harass even one female. Or male, for that matter. Are we clear on this?" Her footman nodded rather like a bobblehead toy. "I'm serious. I will have you gelded." He gulped and contrived a very innocent look, while one hand rearranged the single curl laying in the middle of his forehead, the rest of the hair there having long ago receded several inches back. "Ar!," he replied. With her nod, he loped forward, ready to work.

Joseph and Eli she gave quick instructions to. Joe would seek out some local businesses to see if he could get some donations happening, and Eli would work with the diggers. That arranged, she herself set off to help work, too.

The Redneck

Date: 2015-05-25 22:04 EST
Day by day, little by little, the inhabitants of the neighborhood grew bolder. Grew more at ease with the work going on and less wary.

There were more than a few holdouts who sneered and spat and swore up and down it was either some form of foolery, or some sort of trap to...do something terrible. Just another place for the whores to work, the dopers to trip, and the slingers to sling their bags, some smirked and tittered without really trying to keep their voices quiet.

Those voices though, grew quieter as more and more, what could be could be seen. With the last of the concrete slabs that had been foundations, the bricks and blocks that had been walls, hauled off or smoothed and shaped and repurposed as boulders and stones for climbing or to line a water course and maybe a pond or to make a pathway, some folk began to hope. Began to believe that someone was willing to, was capable of, giving a damn.

Of offering something without strings or hooks or blades attached. Enough dared to hope that by the middle of the first week the Dreamchasing crews, Gem's people, Andu's crews, and any other volunteers that'd pitched in from other sectors, were augmented. Children for toting and carrying and running messages, teenagers for strong backs and tireless energy (with a side of eye rolling angst), adults for heavy lifting and bubbling enthusiasm and territorial patrols around the perimeter of the lot during the evenings.

At the end of the day any and all left over food and drink that'd been set out through the day was gladly, gratefully packed away to be shared out with those who couldn't, or wouldn't, visit the site itself. At least not yet.

The very rocky, very suspicious beginnings of a scarecrow inspired project for the redneck were smoothing out, as she'd hoped they would.

Work was progressing nicely, on a very many fronts, and the redneck's heart sang with it.