We live in a town of approximately 4,000 citizens. And within our small town, The Cleavers live in a mobile home community - yes, that's right - WE ARE TRAILER TRASH!
When our trailer was purchased by The Mister, it was with the understanding that once I arrived in town, and secured a good job, we'd move said trailer to some land, and build a house together.
Thank you, recession. We're still here, and no closer to that dream of a house and some land. But enough of my whining, let's get back to our story.
Our mobile home community trailer park (let's not resort to euphemisms, I wanna tell it like it is) is home to both families as well as a fair number of senior citizens. (I must say that we ARE a family, but with every passing day, we get closer and closer to the senior citizen category).
Anyway, Bill, a neighbor up the street, went missing yesterday, right about dinner time. Bill and I are not close friends; I have spoken to him once or twice when he was passing by.
Bill, 83 years young, travels in style. He motors up and down the street in a snazzy electric wheelchair, which is festooned with his very own US flag.
US flags are VERY IMPORTANT decorative accessories in this here trailer park - in fact, they are SO popular, some folks even use 'em for curtains!
Bill is very soft spoken - in fact, he barely talks above a whisper. So it was readily apparent that if he got himself into some difficulty on his ride today, he would be unable to cry out for assistance. And he only had two hours of battery life on his chair.
When Bill did not return home in a reasonable amount of time, his wife alerted the authorities (I've never talked to Bill's wife - apparently, if you live up the hill, it is necessary to have a motorized vehicle to traverse down a moderate incline).
The only reason I knew some excitement was afoot was when I saw the flashing lights of a firetruck through the mini blinds (Mini blinds are THE window treatment in trailer parks, since we're packed in here like sardines. I mean, I can hear the neighbor burp after he finishes a 12-pack, and I bet if I used binoculars, I could count the hairs on his, oh never mind). Again, I digress.
I ventured outside to see what the hubbub was about. My middle school-aged neighbor filled me in on the details.
A search party of concerned friends, family and neighbors was mustered to begin searching for Bill.
Our street is a dead end - or a cul-de-sac, for you fancy schmancy people who have foundations under your homes. It was reasonable to think that Bill had to drive DOWN the street to be on his merry way.
In addition to the citizen search party, the police and fire department personnel were also searching for Bill. And even though we live in a small, some might even say, backward, town - I received an automated phone call from the police department, giving vital statistics about Bill and the location where he was last spotted.
Being totally nosy and inconspicuous, or so I thought Concerned for Bill's safety, I again went outside to see if anyone had had any luck in locating the elderly gentleman. As I was lounging beside my car (in the dark), a car pulled up beside me and asked if they found him yet - like they knew I was lurking to be nosy - what nerve!
I said that I hadn't heard anything, but the firetruck had just returned to the street, so maybe they had some news. The female driver, who must work for the former Anheiser-Busch Company (now InBev), because she had the distinct aroma of hops wafting from her open car window, called the trailer park manager for an update.
Joy of joys! It was good news! Bill had been located UP the street, at the very tippy tippy top of the trailer court, sort of stuck behind a shed. They said he was okay, but that they were going to take him to the hospital, as his vital signs were not as vigorous as they hoped.
I'm sure his family and friends were overjoyed with the news. I stood there a minute, watching the car drive up the street in an attempt to get closer to Bill's home.
I watched about a dozen searchers also trudge up my street in a few minutes. They walked with purpose, but it was almost a festive feeling in the air. A young mother with a stroller walked past and said, "I'm gonna kick me some Bill ass right now!"
Ah, nothing is better than the love of family.
Within a few minutes, we received the automated phone call, confirming that Bill had been found, and that he was okay after his four hour ordeal.