Moving Up, Part Six

When last we saw brave Mr. Key, he was embarking on a most quixotic task - to revive a long-dead street fair in his neighborhood. Will he be crowned with the laurels of success? Or will he be dashed on the rocks of failure? Will I use more overblown metaphors? You can only find out by reading on in Part Six of Moving Up.

*****

The following Monday morning, Avery woke up an hour and a half early, and walked over to Holton to catch the Number 14 bus. As he stood on the corner of Holton and Center, he surveyed the street in both directions. He could see what Henry had been talking about. This part of the neighborhood was far from run-down, and there were several business - a beauty parlor, two bars, a Persian restaurant - within sight. But there was also one large, vacant storefront, and another smaller one that was boarded up. This section of Holton could certainly use a little love.

After a few minutes, the bus arrived and Avery hopped on. It was about a twenty minute ride from Riverwest through Downtown and then down to Mitchell Street, where Avery was planning to pay a visit to his friend Esmerelda. Sebastian's comment the previous day about the pastries at the Holton Street Festival had gotten Avery thinking.

When he arrived at Esmerelda's, it was already mid-morning for Esmé, even though it was barely seven o'clock.

"Avery! Good morning!"

"Morning, Esmé!"

"What brings you here before work?"

"Well, I had to talk to you about something, and I couldn't do it on city time."

"Hmm, I don't remember that ever stopping you before," Esmerelda quipped.

"Yes, well, I've changed. I'm a manager now - I've gotta set a good example."

"Yeah, I heard about that - your name was in the paper and everything. Congratulations, Ave."

"Yeah, it's nice, mostly because I don't have to work for a horrible boss anymore. But the work is more interesting. Plus, more money." Avery smiled. "Oh! Which reminds me - I still owe you three dollars!" Avery reached into his wallet and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Why don't you give me a dozen of whatever's fresh for my staff."

"Cecilia!" Esmé yelled to her daughter in the kitchen. "Grab a dozen of whatever's freshest for Avery!"

"Sí, mámá!"

Within a few seconds, Cecilia emerged from the back with a baker's dozen of some sort of Mexican pastry that Avery couldn't identify.

"These are a specialty from back home in Juarez," Esmé explained. "You'll like them."

Avery was so excited about the pastries that he nearly forgot the purpose of his visit. He was halfway to the door when something reminded him. "Oh, Jeez. Esmé, I nearly forgot why I came here in the first place."

"You mean my wonderful baking isn't enough?"

"No, your wonderful baking is the exact reason for my visit! Do you remember back when there used to be an annual street fair in Riverwest, on Holton?"

"Vaguely, I guess. Those neighborhood festivals come and go so often."

"Well, I thinking about trying to revive it. The problem is that most of the businesses that used to be involved aren't there anymore."

"Are you looking for me to sponsor this thing? Cause Ave, I don't have that kind of extra money."

"No, no, no. I'll hit up big, rich companies for sponsorships," he said with a smile. "No, what I'm looking for now are vendors. Did you ever hear of Ma Cherie?"

"Heard of it? Ave, that place was only the best bakery in town for years."

"Well, they used to be the vendor for baked goods at the festival - and they were one of the highlights of the fair."

"Are you asking me to replace Ma Cherie? Talk about a hard act to follow!" Avery could tell that Esmé was very skeptical. "Besides, who's going to run a vendor's tent? I've barely got the staff to run this one location as it is."

Avery noticed that Cecilia was listening intently. "Well, Esmé, I really think that it would be worth trying to work something out. I mean, if this thing is a success, you'd probably sell more in a single day at the fair than you'd sell in a typical weekend."

"Mámá, I think you should do it," Cecilia said, her voice barely a whisper.

"And who is going to run the tent, hija?"

"I will, mámá. I can do it, with some help from Carlos and Juan," she said, referring to her younger brothers. Esmé looked unconvinced. "Mámá, I can't work in your bakery forever. You know that I want to run my own bakery one day. This could be a chance to gain some great experience."

Esmerelda shot Avery a look. "Did you two cook-up this conspiracy together?" He wasn't sure if she was kidding or not.

"On my mother's grave, Esmé - no."

"Avery, I've met your mother. She's alive and well." Esmé was smiling now.

"Oh, my mistake."

"So, mámá, does that mean that I can do it?"

"Well ... I guess you're right. It would be a good experience."

"This is all assuming this thing comes together," Avery added, trying not to get Cecilia's hopes up.

"Okay, Cecilia. Okay, Avery. I'll do it."

"You're a wise woman, Esmé."

"We'll see about that."

Pastries in hand, Avery walked a block over to catch the Number 19 bus, which would get him back downtown closer to the library than the Number 14. As he walked in the thirty degree weather, he realized that the once piping hot pastries were rapidly cooling. Figuring it would be a waste to let them cool without know what a fresh one tasted like, Avery pulled one out and took a bite. "Oh my god this is good!" he said far too loudly to no one in particular. He was so enamored of the pastry that he nearly missed his bus.

*****

Later that week, Avery was sitting in his office pouring over some budget numbers (it was things like this that made middle management less bearable) when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Avery Key?"

"It is."

"This is Clay Shaw from Carver, Briggs & Henderson. Your wife gave me your number."

"Oh, okay. You know Kate?"

"Well, no. But I spoke to her this morning. She apparently is acquainted with one of our attorneys, Randall Weber."

Avery was confused. "I'm sorry, what is this about?"

"Your wife didn't tell you?"

"Uh, I guess not."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me explain. I work in the marketing department at Carver Briggs. Randy Weber told me that you were looking to organize a community festival this summer and that you were looking for sponsors."

"Oh, yes. That's correct."

"Well, my firm is always interested in sponsoring events in the community. We're looking for a festival where we could set up a booth, to try to makes some ties in the community, especially local businesses."

"Oh, okay. I think that would certainly be possible."

"Excellent. What other sort of sponsorship do you have at this point?"

Avery wasn't sure if he should try to fib a bit about the planning or not. As it was, he couldn't quite think up a plausible lie, so he decided that it was just best to go with honesty "Well, actually, you're the first." There was a pause at the other end. Avery started getting worried that he had blown a big chance.

"Mr. Key ... how far are you in the planning for this event?"

"Well, honestly ... I've, um ... well, I've talked to a few local businesses about being involved as vendors. And I've got a deal with the Riverwest Beat to publicize the event and to produce signs and flyers. But that's about it so far."

"Do you have permits?" Shaw asked, sounding unsure of how serious Avery was about the festival.

"Um ... no. I actually don't have the cash on hand for that. But I really don't foresee it being a problem - I have connections at City Hall."

"Well, Mr. Key, you'll need more than connections at City Hall to get the Department of Recreation to shut down a major street for a day."

Avery felt chastened, like a schoolteacher was scolding him. "Well, Mr. Shaw, I felt that the appropriate course of action was to first see about rounding up financial backing before committing to a permit. Also, without having vendors lined up, I wouldn't know how large a street closure would be necessary, or even which blocks to request." Avery could swear that he almost hear Shaw start to be convinced through the phone.

"Well, I see. It seems that you're further in your planning than I had realized."

"Yes, I've given this a fair amount of though," Avery said, bluffing a little. "Mr. Shaw, what I'm looking for at this time from your firm isn't a definite commitment of sponsorship, but a provisional one, contingent on my being about to recruit other vendors and sponsors."

The tone in Shaw's very was beginning to change. "Well, that is certainly reasonable. What sort of financial commitment were you looking for?"

Avery paused. He hadn't actually thought about a dollar amount. He tried to do some quick mental math, and arrived at a ballpark figure. "Five thousand dollars."

"Hmm."

Avery wasn't sure what that sound meant. "Mr. Shaw?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to check your request against our other marketing commitments this summer." There was another pause. "Yes, I think five thousand should be fine."

"Excellent," Avery said, breathing a sigh of relief and trying desperately to not let it be audible through the phone line. "I will get in touch with you within the next few weeks to let you know where the preparations stand."

"Sounds good."

"Thank you, Mr. Shaw. Have a good day."

"Thank you. Good-bye."

Avery hung up and practically jumped out of his seat and danced out into the main room. Sebastian was walking by at just that moment.

"Bastian! I've got great news!"

"What's that?"

"I think I've lined up a sponsor for our revival of the Holton Street Festival."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Do you think it will really happen?"

"I think so."

"That is very good. I have some friends who would like to participate, I think. They have a Afro-Caribbean drum band, and they are always looked for gigs around town."

"That sounds perfect." Avery was really starting to impress himself with how quickly this whole plan was coming together. "I'll need to give Henry Ferdinand a call later to let him know how things are progressing."

"Speaking of Henri, I believe that Dante and I have made a lot of progress in sorting through the back issues of the Beat." Sebastian led Avery over to the sorting area, pointing to the stacks of newspapers.

"Yeah? That's great."

"Henri appears to have been mistaken about the number of back issues that he had. Just from the piles we have sorted so far, we have found almost three-quarters of the issues from the last five years, and about half of the issues from the years before that."

"Great work, Sebastian."

"I even found some old articles that I wrote," Sebastian added, smiling and handing Avery an issue from 2001.
Avery took the paper and glanced over the article. It was a about a local businessman who had run for State Senate. Avery didn't recognize the man's name, so he had probably lost, possible even in the primary. But what struck him was the quality of the article. "Sebastian, you're a really good writer. What made you give this up?"

"Well, believe it or not, mon ami, being a reporter/secretary for a free local newspaper isn't the most lucrative position."

Avery laughed. "I guess not." He continued skimming the article a bit. "Still, this is really good, Bastian. You ought to write for the Journal," Avery said, referring to the major local daily, the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.

"Maybe in another life," Sebastian said. "For now, I think I'm looking for some more stable."

*****

The evening at closing time, Avery was heading out the backdoor onto the dock, when he noticed a man approaching who he didn't recognize. The man looked a bit lost.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I hope so. I'm looking for my son, Dante Williams."

"Oh, you're Dante's father? I've heard so much about you," Avery said, telling a white lie - truth is, Dante was pretty shy and didn't talk much about his family. "I'm Dante's manager, Avery Key." Avery extended his hand.

"Jerome Williams," Dante's father said, shaking Avery's hand.

"So I haven't seen you here before. Do you normally pick Dante up from work?"

"Most days his brother comes by, but he has an evening class at MATC on Wednesdays."

"Oh, okay."

"So is my son behaving himself?" Jerome asked half in jest.

"Yes, he's doing quite excellent. He's really a very thoughtful and hard-working young man. You and his mother can be quite proud."

"Well, thank you. But, actually, Dante's mother passed away when he was quite young."

"Oh ... I'm terribly sorry." Avery felt his face turning red with embarrassment. "I didn't mean ..."

"Really, it's okay. You didn't know."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. "So, Mr. Williams ... what do you do for a living?"

"Oh, I'm a docent - a griot - at the Black Holocaust Museum, and a pastor at the First Abyssinian Baptist Church."

"Oh, really? Do you have a degree in history?"

"Yes, from Tulane - my focus was on the era of the Underground Railroad and the Fugitive Slave Act."

"That's really a fascinating period."

"Did you study history as well?"

"No, I actually was an English major, but I never finished my degree."

"You should go back and finish - it's never too late. And I always teach my sons that education is the spring from which all of life's blessings flow."

"Certainly." Though he had considered it before and rejected the idea, Avery suddenly found himself pondering the idea of going back to school to finish his degree. "Maybe I will."

"That's one thing I love about working at the Museum - it gives me a chance to educate people from all backgrounds and all levels of education. It's surprising - or perhaps not - that even many very well-educated people know very little about the history of slavery and its legacy in the African-American community."

"I agree. It's really quite a ..." Avery paused, thinking.

"Quite a?" Jerome offered, trying to help Avery regain his train of thought.

"Oh, I sorry. I was just thinking." Avery paused again. "Would you be interested in giving a presentation here at the library?"

"A presentation?"

"Sure. Y'know, maybe a lecture with slides or something, covering the history of slavery, or maybe just the era that you're most comfortable with?"

"Well, that certainly could be worthwhile."

"I just ... well, it seems like there might be a lot of community interest in something like that. And we've got several medium-sized reading rooms upstairs that are available for public use."

"That sounds good. And maybe we could spotlight books in the library that pertain to the topic - to encourage people to read further."

Avery nodded. "Yeah ... I'll run this past my boss. He'd need to sign off on the use of a room, but I can't picture any objections."

At that point, Dante emerged from the backdoor. "Hey, Dad. Hey, Mr. Key."

"Hello, son."

"Hey, Dante," Avery said, before turning back to Jerome. "Well, it was certainly nice to meet you, Mr. Williams. I'll talk to my boss and get back to you." Avery pulled out a business card and handed it to Jerome.

"Thank you, Mr. Key. You can reach me at the Museum most days during the week," Jerome replied, handing Avery a card of his own.

"Well, you have a good evening Mr. Williams, Dante." Avery reached out and shook Jerome's hand before heading back inside to see if he could catch McGee before he left for the evening.

*****

Two Saturdays later, Avery found himself back on Holton, scoping out the location for the fair. There was a three-block section of the street where there were primarily businesses, with only a handful of houses. Avery figured that this was the only section of the street that he was likely to be able to secure a permit for - any others would be too big of an inconvenience for the residents. Avery had learned from back issues of the Riverwest Beat that the former Holton Street Festival had been a much larger affair, encompassing a six-block section of Holton, including several of the side streets.

Surveying his proposed festival grounds, Avery foresaw two main problems - first, securing the participation of the local businesses (or, at the least, their blessing to hold a fair that would undoubtedly disturb normal business patterns), and second, finding a location for the festival's Father-Son softball game. Avery considered himself a big baseball fan, so the softball game was, in his mind, an integral ingredient to the festival. It was, after all, the main participatory event that he had planned, since otherwise mostly the fair would consist of food and drink, music, and some basic games for the kids.

Avery decided to tackle these problems head-on, by approaching the various shop owners and trying to convince them to participate or at least not to protest his permit with City Hall. Walking down the east side of the street, the first two buildings contained a bar, which was not yet open, and a small empty storefront. Next was a small stationary store, but the owner wasn't working that day, and the 16-year-old kid behind the counter had no idea of how she might feel about a street fair. He, however, was willing to offer up his band to perform.

"What's your band called?" Avery asked.

"Flamesnake."

"Um ... what, uh, does that mean?"

"Uh, I dunno. Just sounds cool, I guess."

"Well, okay. Is your music family-friendly?"

"Um, well, like ... we're basically a thrash-metal band."

"So that's a no, hey?"

"Come on, man, you outta hear us play!"

"Well look, I might like your band okay, but I'm betting most of the neighbors might feel a little different."

"I guess. Whatever, man."

Avery suddenly felt very old, lecturing a teenager that his band's music was too loud, and not 'family-friendly,' whatever that meant. Still, he had a feeling that the City was unlikely to approve any street fair featuring Flamesnake, so he left and headed down the street to the next business, a barbershop called The Hot Corner. As he walked in, he noticed immediately a sign advertising haircuts for $7.50 - Avery was usually wary of haircuts this inexpensive, but the fact that all four chairs were filled convinced him that this place was different. The walls of the shop were covered in Brewers memorabilia, including several large signed pictures of several Brewers greats from the 1980s - Robin Yount, Cecil Cooper, Gorman Thomas, Paul Molitor - posing with the same young player. Turning his sights to the oldest of the barbers, a well-built middle-aged man, Avery realized that he was the player in the photo.

"Hey, you're Kevin Butler!" Avery shouted, louder than he had intended. "I used to have your rookie card."

"Sure am. What can I do you for? If you're here for a cut, you'll have to wait your turn."

"Oh, no sir."

"Okay, then you won't mind if I finish this young man's cut before I get to you?"

"Oh, no problem. My apologies." Avery was embarrassed at being so star-struck by a guy who had been a back-up third baseman for the Brewers for a couple seasons in the mid-80s. But that was the team he had grown up following, and for years there he had obsessively poured over the box scores in the paper and collected all of the cards for the players, to the point where he felt like he knew all of the members of those teams. Avery often referred to the Brewers loss in the 1982 World Series as the day his "childhood ended."

After a few minutes, Butler finished the haircut. From what Avery could tell, he was a much better barber than ballplayer. Butler meticulously cleaned the hair clippings from the chair and swept the floor before walking over to where Avery was standing.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"First, I wanted to say that it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Butler. I've been a Brewers fan my whole life, and you're the first player I've ever had the opportunity to meet." Avery reached out and shook Butler's hand. "I just can't believe I've lived in this neighborhood for years now without realizing that you owned this barbershop."

"Well, I try to keep things relatively low-key. I bought this shop years twenty ago with savings from my ballplaying days. Business has had its ups and downs, but its been steady enough that I've got the mortgage paid off now, so I'm happy. Certainly panned out better than my baseball career." Butler smiled.

"I still remember seeing your first career homerun on TV in my parents' basement."

"Only career homerun," Butler clarified. "Yeah, I remember that day, too. It was a home game at old County Stadium. I actually cried when they tore that place down. I had so many memories of that place - not just playing there myself, but watching Hank Aaron play, too. He was my hero growing up. And I only ended up 754 homers short of his record."

Avery and Butler both laughed. Just then, Avery noticed another man step into the shop.

"I'll be right with you, Doug," Butler said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Butler. I don't mean to keep you from your business. Let me get to the point of visit quickly. I'm trying to revive the old Holton Street Festival. I think it would be really good for the neighborhood, both for a sense of community, and for bringing some more business into the area. I wanted to see if you would be willing to support my plan, or possibly even participate."

"Oh, young man, I remember the old festival. That used to be a real good time. Are any of the old crew involved?"

"Well, I'm pretty much starting from scratch."

"Okay, hmm ... you should definitely get in touch with Martin Price. He's a real estate agent now, but he used to be a social worker and community activist. He was one of the organizers of the original festival."

"Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Butler."

"Say, are you planning to restart the old softball game, too?"

"I was, in fact."

"What field were you going to use?"

"Uh, I hadn't figured that out yet."

"Well, there's a ballfield over at St. Matthew's on Pierce. I know the athletic director over there, and I'd be happy to talk to him for you."

"Wow, that would be really great."

"I only have one request." Avery paused, a little worried at what it might be. "Can I manage one of the teams?"

Avery smiled. "Yes, yes, of course." He paused. "But I'm not sure we can let you play. I think you might feast on slow-pitch softball pitching."

Butler laughed. "Hehe, you're probably right. Well, it was good to talk to you, young man, but I've got to get back to work."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Butler," Avery said, handing him a business card.

"Sure. I'll let you know how things pan out with the field. And don't forget to give Martin Price a call."

"Sure thing." They shook hands and Avery headed out and back down the street, very pleased at how this meeting had gone. The next business he set his sights on was the Iranian restaurant on the next block, which he had seen two weeks earlier. The restaurant wasn't yet open for lunch, but by chance, Avery caught the owner as he was arriving to start setting up.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you work here?" Avery asked, feeling a little foolish, since the man was unlocking the door.

"Yes, I'm the owner."

"Oh, excellent. Hi, my name is Avery Key and I'm trying to organize a revival of the Holton Street Festival this summer. I was planning to ..."

"I'm sorry, I'm very busy. What do you want?"

Avery was a little taken aback by the man's brusque retort. "Oh ... of course. I'm trying to revive the fair, and basically I just wanted to know if you would be willing to participate or if you have an objections."

The man seemed slightly angry. "Yes, yes, I have objections! This fair, what will this do to my business? All of these people around, but none of them coming into my restaurant."

"Well, but what about if you were one of the vendors?"

"Oh, and I suppose that you would then want me to pay you a fee to sell food in the street in front of my own restaurant? What do you want? Twenty percent? Thirty percent? Maybe fifty percent?"

"Oh, no, no, Mr., um ..."

"Rahmanian. My name is Fareed Rahmanian."

"Mr. Rahmanian, I have every intention of making sure that the vendors at this fair make money. I was expecting only ten percent - after costs - to help cover the expenses of organizing the fair."

Rahmanian squinted at Avery, sizing him up. Avery was unsure of what his reaction might be. "You sound like a fair man. I will consider your offer."

"Thank you, Mr. Rahmanian. Please, don't let me keep you any longer." Avery reached out to shake his hand and give him a business card. Strangely, Avery was finding a lot more use for the cards in non-official functions.

Heading down the street, Avery was delighted that his efforts so far had been so successful. At this rate, he was beginning to have hope that he might be able to pull this thing off.

Moving Up, Part Five

In fictional Milwaukee, yesterday was a big day for Avery - he had to make his first personnel decisions, letting go of half his staff (with some ugliness to go along with it), and thus leaving himself with several positions to fill. Kate, meanwhile, found out that her grant proposal for her dissertation had been accepted, and so she and Avery decided to go out for a night on the town to celebrate.

*****

The next afternoon, Avery found himself walking down Wells St. from the Main Library to City Hall. He ran the idea of the Students-to-Work program by McGee, who liked the plan - "Sounds like your wife's the one with brains, hey?" were his exact words - and told him to talk to the Library Commissioner. At first, Avery figured he'd just call, but Tony convinced him that a face-to-face visit would probably be more effective. Though he hated to leave the department short-staffed, he figured that if he headed over right after lunch, he could be back before the late afternoon rush.

Arriving at City Hall, he negotiated his way around the construction work and scaffolding surrounding the exterior of the building and headed inside and up four flights of stairs to the Office of the Library Commissioner, Lionel Tate.

Inside of the Commissioner's office, Avery noticed several people seated in a small waiting area, including some he recognized as local newscasters. Others, judging from their notebooks and cell phones, he guessed were reporters from various newspapers. Trying hard to be inconspicuous, Avery walked up to the reception desk.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?" the receptionist answered, a little to loud.

"I'm here to see Commissioner Tate."

"And which newspaper are you from?" she asked brusquely.

"I, um," Avery lowered his voice, "I'm not a reporter. I work at the Main Library, in the Restocking Department." His voice had reduced to a whisper by the end.

"Young man, you're going to have to speak up."

Avery turned to glance at the reporters. At least a couple of them had taken notice of him. "I'm the manager of the Restocking Department at the Main Branch," he said loud enough to be audible to everyone in the small waiting room.

"Oh, I see. You'll have to wait a moment. Mr. Tate will see you next."

Avery turned to sit down, but realized there were no seats. Instead, he found an unclaimed spot of wall to lean against. The man standing next to him eyed him suspiciously.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"I, um ... I don't really think I have time now." Avery chided himself silently for not thinking of a better excuse. Time, of course, was something he had plenty of at the moment. And so for the next few minutes he stood next to the reporter, silently - too busy to speak.

"Young man!" the receptionist yelled. "Mr. Tate will see you now."

Avery headed into Tate's office as a reporter and cameraman from Channel 58 were heading out.

"Afternoon, Mr. ... um ..."

"Key."

"Key. Right. Of course." Tate shuffled some papers around on his desk. "McGee didn't mention that you were stopping by."

"He didn't?"

"No. We were just talking and he didn't mention it. I prefer to conduct most business over the phone, after all," Tate explained as he took a seat behind his desk.

Avery felt himself getting red in the face, embarrassed that he had disturbed Tate with a face-to-face meeting.

"Oh, of course. Um ... so I can't believe that there are still so many reporters covering the whole, uh, scandal." Avery winced a little at the sound of that last word.

"Yes, well ... CNN somehow picked up on the story and it's become national news. You'd think that with the election, this would have been forgotten."

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Avery echoed.

Tate started looking at some papers impatiently. "Is there something I can do for you, Key?"

"Um, yes sir."

"And ... what would that be?"

"Well, my department, due to the recent incident, is severely short-staffed, and the idea occurred to me of using kids from the Students-to-Work program to help fill the gap. I think their youth and enthusiasm would be ..."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Do it."

"Um, excuse me?"

"I said it sounds like a good idea. Do it."

"Oh, I just figured that you'd want to hear more about ..."

"Boy, you really don't know much about me, do you? Where did McGee find you, anyway?"
Tate asked. Avery wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question. "Look, kid - I agree that your idea is worth a shot. Try it out, and if it doesn't work, we'll switch to something else."

Chapter 3

"Do you ever get the sensation that you're living the same day over and over and over again?" Tony asked Avery.

"What?"

"Y'know, you wake up every morning to the same thing on the radio, the same weather, the same everything. And you just wanna get out of that loop so badly."

"Tony, what are you talking about? Are you saying things at work are boring?"

"Oh, Jeez, Ave! It's Groundhog Day!" Avery just stared at Tony. "Y'know, the movie? Groundhog Day? Bill Murray? Please tell me you get what I'm talking about."

"What? I don't ... oh! Oh, I get it!" Avery chucked. "That's, uh, that's funny."

"Jokes are a lot better if you don't have to explain them," Tony said, shaking his head.

"Look, sorry! That's a old movie. I didn't remember."

"Morning, gentlemen!" Harriet announced as she arrived. "Looks like another six weeks of winter!"

"Oh, bummer," Tony said. "Ave, if this keeps up, we're going to need to get more snow shovels to keep the dock clear."

"Well, I like the snow, personally," Harriet said. "It's so beautiful and peaceful."

"Yeah, well, then next time you can help us shovel all the beauty and peace," Tony joked.

Avery had now been the manager of the department for two and a half months, and things were beginning to get back into a good working order. The new barcode scanners were working very well, and Avery had invested some of the budget into much needed repairs and upgrades to the vans. There were still some funds remaining, and so he had Annabel looking into other potential technology upgrades. And Tony was taking automotive repair courses at the Milwaukee Area Technical College (a/k/a MATC) so that the department would have someone on hand to handle minor repairs on the van, rather than having to have the work done by outside companies.

As for personnel, Avery had so far hired four students from the Mayor's program - since they could each only work part-time, he was able to get them for the price of two regular full-time employees. So far, he didn't have any complaints. All four of the students were hard working and excited about the experience. The only downside was that two of them had already been excepted to colleges out-of-state, so Avery was already having to think about how to replace them. In addition, Avery had hired two full-time employees, Sebastian and Helen. Sebastian was an acquaintance of Avery's, who had coincidentally applied for the job. He was a refugee from Haiti, where he had worked as a clerk in a government ministry until the overthrow of President Aristide. He eventually ended up in Milwaukee in the mid-1990s, settling in Riverwest. Avery knew him from seeing each other at various events in the neighborhood. He fit right in at the library - he was very organized, and he was trilingual in French, English, and Spanish, which meant that he was able to participate in a lot of community outreach work in the Latino community.

Sebastian had suggested that Avery talk to a man named Henry Ferdinand, who was the editor of the Riverwest Beat, a free weekly community newspaper covering Riverwest and the Eastside. Sebastian had worked at the paper for a time, and thought that a partnership between the paper and the library would be beneficial for both. McGee liked the idea and told Avery to look into it, so this afternoon Avery and Sebastian were headed over to the Beat's office on Holton St. to talk to Ferdinand.

*****

"Great to see you Sebastian!" Ferdinand intoned enthusiastically, taking Sebastian's hand.

"Bonjour, mon ami!"

"And you must be Mr. Key."

"Indeed I am, but you can call me Avery. Good you meet you, Mr. Ferdinand." Avery reached out and shook Ferdinand's hand.

"Henry, please. This is an informal place of business, after all." Henry waved his hand around, gesturing at the hundreds of newspaper clippings posted in his office, which nearly composed newsprint wallpaper. Stacks of papers, some appearing to be rather old, sat around the room, and Henry's desk was a mess of post-its, pens, and discarded chewing gum wrappers. On the corner of the desk sat a dictaphone.

"No computer?" Avery asked.

"Naw, I'm a card-carrying Luddite. I type everything on Emilia here," Henry answered, pointing to a typewriter on a rickety stand in the corner. "Or I just dictate it and hand it off to one of the kids in the office."

"That was me when I first came to Milwaukee," Sebastian explained. Avery looked a little surprised. "Ninety words a minute," Sebastian said, smiling.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?" Henry asked.

"Well," Avery started, "as you're probably aware of, the Main Library's periodicals department keeps a number of small local papers in the collection. While we've been carrying the Beat regularly for about four years now, our back-issue collection is pretty spotty."

"You two boys came out here just to ask me about some back issues?"

"Well, my wife is a graduate student at UWM, so I've developed an appreciation for primary source materials, and I think it's important that we have as many issues of your paper as possible."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't really have much of a back issue collection here - mostly just random issues now and again where we had extra copies at the end of the week."

"Oh, that's too bad. Hmm."

"But you're welcome to take whatever I do have lying around. As you've probably noticed, my archiving skills are a bit lacking."

"Some things never change, non?" Sebastian added.

Avery surveyed the piles of papers. "Well, if you don't mind, we certainly have room in the van for these papers - we could take them today."

"Sure, sure. Help yourself."

Avery walked over to one of the nearest piles. The issue on top was dated August 4th, 1990. The lead story read HOLTON STREET FEST A SUCCESS, and featured a large photo of a jubilant crowd lining Holton, watching a parade of floats. "In Milwaukee, the city of festivals, even a neighborhood block party is a massive undertaking," the article began.

"Boy, I don't even remember there being a Holton Street Festival."

"That's probably because there hasn't been one in, oh, 7 or 8 years now," Henry explained.

"Really? That's a shame."

"Well, with Summerfest and State Fair and all the Ethnic festivals, there really wasn't much call after a while for another neighborhood festival. Plus, several of the shops on Holton that had played a big part in the celebration closed."

"Like which?"

"Oh, Houlihan's used to run the beer tent. And the sporting goods store provided equipment for the Father-and-Son softball game."

"And don't forget Ma Cherie!" Sebastian added. "They had the best French pastries. To die for."

"Yeah, but Ma Cherie eventually went out of business, and Ken Houlihan retired to Florida. People just sorta lost interest," Henry continued.

"What do you think it would take to get something like that up and running again?" Avery asked.

"Sponsors, for one. And vendors, for another," Henry answered. "Why, do you have an idea?"

"Well, not really." Avery was thinking. "Well ... well maybe." Avery turned his attention back to the pile of newspapers. "We really should be getting these back to the library, so that we can start sorting through them."

"Excellent. Just get in touch with me if you have any ideas about the festival."

"Sure thing."

Avery and Sebastian each grabbed a large stack of papers and headed out to the van.

*****

"Kate?"

"I'm in the bathroom!" she answered, her voice muffled. Avery walked into the kitchen and dropped his keys on the counter as Kate emerged dressed in a bathrobe. Her hair was still wet from her shower.

"How was your day?"

"Ugh, not so good," Kate grunted.

"Sounds like it."

"I was working all morning and afternoon trying to reconcile deployment figured from different sources, and they just weren't adding up. Finally, I realized that it was a quarter past five and I hadn't even gotten dressed or showered yet."

"You feel better now?"

"Yeah, a nice hot shower can be so refreshing."

Avery leaned forward and kissed her. "Hey, you know that free local paper?"

"Yeah, the Riverwest Beat, right?"

"Right. I met the editor today - Henry Ferdinand. He's a real friendly guy."

"How'd you meet him?"

"Oh, we had to go by their offices to get some back issues for the library's collection."

"Oh, excellent. Those are great research materials."

Avery smiled. "Oh, I know you so well."

"What?" Kate asked, half-defensively.

"Nothing." Avery was still smiling. "Anyway, we got to talking about the now-defunct Holton Street Festival."

"I didn't even know that existed."

"Yeah, it was apparently big for a while. Anyway, I'm thinking that we could restart it."

"Excuse me?"

"I think we could get it restarted. With a couple sponsors and some vendors, the whole thing could be a success, I think. I mean, it doesn't have to be a huge deal - just something for folks in the neighborhood."

"Okay, but who do you expect to pony up cash for something like that?"

"Well, I was thinking - that attorney you got to help Harriet, he works at one of the big firms, hey?"

"Yeah - Carver, Briggs & Henderson."

"Well, I'm sure the firm gives money to local groups, right?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Well, maybe you can see if he could help out."

"Okay, but don't you need permits and stuff for a street fair?"

"Well, sure. But I've got plenty of contacts in City Hall - I'm sure I could get something like this approved."

"I suppose." Kate paused.

"What?"

"Well ... I don't know. You really think this could work?"

"Sure it could! I mean, if we start canvassing the neighborhood, talking to some of the business people and such, I'm sure we could get this thing off the ground. And Henry would certainly promote it, I'd think."

"Hmm ... look at you. From bookmobile driver to festival promoter in just three short months."

Avery laughed.

Synergy!

I'm guest-blogging over at alog (the joint blog of Annie and her best friend Amy), answering the Question of the Month "What are you optimistic about?" My answer involves Salma Hayek's hotness, er ... that is, the cultural assimilation of Latin American immigrants.

The Music Project is DEAD!

Or something. Annie inspired me to start this project, and she basically gave up after about three posts. We both then inspired Adam, and he's currently at twenty posts and counting. Now, you could say that Adam has more stick-to-it-iveness than Annie and I, but I prefer to think of it as him having way too much free time. I mean, if he ever finishes his collection, I'd be mondo-impressed, but sorta mondo-impressed the way you'd be if someone ate fifty eggs in front of you. It's a I-couldn't-have-done-that-but-I'm-not-sure-why-anyone-would-bother kind of impressed.

Anyway, perhaps one day I'll restart the project (unlikely), but for now, I'll devote this blog to the serialized version of Moving Up.

Statis Pro Baseball

There was no Wikipedia entry for Statis Pro Baseball. I have now remedied this grave injustice. You may gaze upon my mighty work here.

Also, today is my son's first birthday. He is the greatest thing to come into my life since Statis Pro Baseball.

Moving Up, Part Four

Ack! It's been two weeks since the last installment of Moving Up! And didn't I promised weekly installments? No, actually, I did not. Besides, this is a free online novel, and you get what you pay for. No, I mean, never look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, no ... beggars can't be choosers. Or ... well, dammit, there are lots of clichés appropriate to this situation. Pick one.

Anyway, when we last saw Avery, he went in to interview for the position of manager of the restocking department at the Main Library. The interviewer was his old boss McGee - now the head of the Library - who, after giving Avery a bit of a hard time, hired him on the spot.

*****

"I never liked that Maxine. I knew from the start that she was no good," McGee intoned, pacing his office and holding a thick manila file. He was even more imposing standing up than he was behind the desk. Avery was sitting in a too-small chair in front of the desk - a different chair than he had sat in the previous morning. Had McGee switched the chair out to make him less comfortable?

"Well, no one on the staff liked her, either."

"No one on my staff, maybe, kid. But after three years she'd filled her cronies in almost every position. And that's the biggest problem we've got. Those people downstairs aren't going to be loyal to you, and they sure as hell ain't gonna be able to work well enough to get this place running the way I want it to."

"What are you getting at?"

"New blood, kid." McGee coughed and wheezed a bit. "The police took care of the first step in clearing this place out, but I'm going to do the second part. We've got far too many people here who floated in on a corrupt cloud, and we gotta do some housecleaning." Avery winced at the mixed metaphor.

"As it is, sir, we're short staffed in restocking. I really can't afford to have my staff reduced any further."

"You can't afford not to, you mean!" McGee bellowed. "Dammit, kid! You'd be better off with one good, honest person than a stadium full of incompetents and thieves!" McGee was pounding on the desk. Avery worried that people in the hall were probably wondering what was going on in the office.

McGee threw the manila folder down on the desk. It was marked Personnel. "Kid, you've got eleven people in your department right now. Wanda, Stacy, and Carl are goners. That leaves you with eight. I want that down to six. From there, we'll rebuild."

"Wait, wait ... six people? I'm telling you, the department can't be run on that."

McGee shook his head. "It doesn't have to be, kid. Dammit, are you even listening?"

Avery stared back at McGee, trying to follow what the old man was saying. This being his first management meeting, things seemed to be going very fast. "Okay, six." He paused. "Who's left?"

"Anthony, Julio, Desmond, Harriet, Chandler, Annabel, and Sean."

"That's only seven."

"You're the eighth, kid. Did you forget your coffee this morning or something?"

Avery chuckled. "No sir."

"Good," McGee said, and then lowered his voice, "cause we've got some work to do."

Avery picked up the department roster sheet from the file and stared at the names. Eight of the names, including Maxine and Leonard, had been crossed out in black already. Wanda, Stacy, and Carl were struck through in red ink. Avery picked up a pencil, and starting chewing on the end while reading through the list. He couldn't very well fire Tony or Harriet - they were his friends. But, of course, that wasn't fair to the others that his friends should get special treatment. Avery mulled it over in his head - no, he couldn't fire Tony or Harriet because they were good workers. He knew them, he knew well how they worked. They deserved to stay. He took the pencil and made a little check mark next to their names.

"Keeping your friends, hey?" McGee asked.

"Yes."

"You sure about that? Sure you're not playing favorites?"

"I'm sure. They're good workers."

"You trust yourself on this?"

"I do. Do you?"

McGee paused, squinting and staring back at Avery. "Yeah, I do."

"Good."

Avery tried to play things cool, but on the inside his stomach was twisted in knots. He had just made his first managerial decision, and old man McGee agreed with him. Of course, that still left five people, of which we could only keep three. His eyes scanned the names over and over, as if hoping that the answer would just jump off the page at him. Instead, the letters all just started to blend together. He was trying to think through this logically, but how do you compare people? This wasn't mathematics, there was no obviously correct answer. He stared harder and harder at the sheet, finally closing his eyes in frustration.

"Chandler," Avery finally said.

"Chandler?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He's good with the stacks. He's fast and accurate. But his attendance stinks. He's late all the time. I can't be stuck wondering where my employees are when they're supposed to be at work."

"Fair enough."

Avery returned to the sheet. Four names left. "Sean," he said, much faster than last time.

"Really?" McGee said, sounding honestly surprised. "Why?"

"He just isn't dedicated to this job. He's always talking about how he'd rather work someplace else."

"Then I guess this is his chance," McGee snorted.

Avery crossed out Sean and Chandler on the list and checked next to Julio, Desmond, and Annabel. So, this was his department. It seemed tiny (and it was - less than a third of the previous group).

"Alright, kid. I'm going to call Sean, Chandler, and the others up here at the end of the day to let them know what we've decided."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I should be the one to tell them." Avery paused. "It was my decision. I should be the one to tell them."

"That's good, kid. That's good. See, this is what I knew you had," McGee said, pointing a thick finger at Avery's chest. "Now, you've gotta rebuild this department. Here's the bad news - I'm only letting you have twelve people down there. Maxine let that department get bloated with extra people. You need to fix that."

"What's the good news?"

"The good news is that now that the supervisor isn't embezzling funds, you'll actually have enough money to pay these people decently and still have enough for some technology upgrades."

"Barcode scanners. We need new barcode scanners desperately. The old models are clunky and heavy, and the interface sucks."

"Okay."

"Beyond that, I'll need time to see where we can best improve. Can I get back to you in say, a month?"

"Sure, kid. Take your time. The money ain't going anywhere this time." McGee laughed.

"Now, I need to get back downstairs. I need to let me people know what's going on."

"You do that, kid."

Avery stood up to leave, but he paused as he got to the door. "I have to ask. Would you have done the same thing?"

McGee smiled. "Here's the thing, kid - you own this decision. It don't matter what I would have done." Avery started to look a bit ill. "But I'm behind you one hundred percent."
Avery nodded his head and left.

*****

Avery headed down three flights of stairs to the restocking department. He was walking far faster than usual, and nearly slipped on the old marble steps, worn by decades of use. He was nervous about having to fire five people. This was something he had never done before - naturally, since he'd never been in a managerial position before - but more importantly, it was something he didn't realize that he would be expected to do, especially not this soon. With the department already short-staffed, he figured that he'd shortly be adding people, not subtracting. Most importantly, he had no idea how to go about firing people who until the previous day had been his co-workers, not his subordinates. He had a feeling this wasn't going to go well.

When he arrived downstairs, he was immediately met by Sean. "Hey, Key! I need to talk to you. There's a lot of rumors flying around here, and I need to know where I stand."

Well, there it was - Avery had wanted to wait till the end of the day, but now the issue was presenting itself front and center.

"Fine, Sean. Meet me in my office in five minutes," Avery said, trying to buy a little time.

"No, I want to talk about this now," Sean said, positioning himself in Avery's path. "Why can't we discuss this now?"

"Okay, fine. Let's discuss this now." Avery looked Sean straight in the eyes and took a deep breath. He had never realized before just how tall Sean was. "You're fired."

Avery wished that he could have recorded the look on Sean's face for posterity. Not because he thought that someone looking crushed by bad news was funny, but because it was so much better than the reaction that immediately followed.

"What!" Sean barked, much louder than anyone usually spoke in the department (this was a library, after all). "Who the hell do you think you are, Key! Yesterday morning you were just the little pissant who drove the bookmobile, and now you think you're some bigshot, hey?"

"I don't think anything, Sean. I'm the manager now, and I've made this decision."

"Oh, look! The little puppet can talk!" Sean yelled. "Who's pulling your strings, Pinocchio?"

Avery chuckled, which wasn't really the best idea.

"What the hell are you laughing at, huh? You think this is funny? This is my life!"

"Okay, Sean. Just calm down."

"Don't you tell me what to do, asshole!"

A crowd had started to gather. Avery suddenly felt trapped. Sean was yelling, and several of the other employees were shouting questions, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Okay, that's enough," Avery said, his very low but firm. The shouting continued. "I said enough!" His shout caught everyone by surprise. He turned and glared at the crowd and Sean.

"Sean and I are having a private conversation, and we are going to continue it in my office. The rest of you should get back to work."

Avery stalked off towards his office, and no one followed. He strode inside and closed the door. Once inside, he loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

It was Sean. He still looked angry.

"Have a seat, Sean," Avery said, motioning towards the chair. Avery sat down. "I don't have good news for you, Sean, but I'd like to discuss this in a more professional manner."

Sean looked a bit chastened. He took the seat Avery had offered.

"Sean, I have made the decision to let you go."

"Why? What the hell ...!" Sean started, but caught himself. There was a silence for several seconds. "Why am I being fired."

"I need people who come to work everyday and want to work here - who see what we do here as important."

"Oh, Jeez, Avery! We restock shelves at the friggin' library!"

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" Avery said with greater force than he intended. "You may see this as just restocking shelves, but I see this as providing an important public service."

Avery could see that Sean wasn't buying it, but he continued anyway, for his sake as much as Sean's. "Without us, the library doesn't work - we're just as crucial to it's functioning as the librarians, the docents, and the archivists. Without us, this place ceases to function. Now, maybe that's not something you care about, but it's something that I care about a great deal. And if you're not going to help me, there's no reason for you to stick around."

Sean was silent for a moment. Avery began to think that maybe he had gotten his point around.

"That's a lot of horseshit." Or perhaps he had not.

Sean stood up and marched out of the room, slamming Avery's door and heading right out the backdoor onto the dock. After a moment, Avery opened the door and looked out at the assembled workers, who were now all standing around the sorting table, waiting for him to say something.

"Chandler, I'd like to see you in my office."

The rest of the firings went far smoother than Sean's. Avery didn't relish the task, but he tried to explain to each person the reasons for their being let go, and to help them understand that it wasn't personal. He explained to each their severance compensation (Sean would have to wait to hear about that through the mail), and even offered Chandler and Stacy that he would be willing to be a character reference. Even so, it was a grueling process. Carl reminded Avery that he had three kids, one of them in college. Wanda cried, and Avery felt like he was being a phony in trying to comfort her.

By the time he was done meeting with each person, it was nearly four o'clock. Avery emerged from his office. The remaining employees were sitting around the sorting table, chatting and not really working. Avery realized that, of course, they were all expecting him to drop the ax them next. When they saw him, they turned tense and went quiet.

"It's over," Avery said, flatly. The collective sigh was audible.

"What's going on, Ave?" Tony asked, somewhat forcefully.

"McGee and I both believe that this department is vitally important to this library," Avery started, "and therefore, we need the best people available. The only way to accomplish that was to whittle the staff down to the core." Avery looked at each of the five remaining employees - Tony, Julio, Desmond, Harriet, and Annabel. "You're the core. You all have the experience and the dedication to make this place run efficiently, like it should. This department had become a mess over the last two and a half years, and it's now our job to fix it - because when this place runs efficiently, the whole library system runs efficiently.

"And remember, we're not just some invisible cog on the machine anymore. After the way Maxine ran this place, people are going to be watching us - the Mayor, the media, the public - so every mistake will be magnified. No one here wants to end up on the evening news again."

"Yeah, cause that went so well for you last time, hey?" Tony quipped. Avery started to laugh, breaking the tension.

"Look, everyone. I really care about this place. I know you all care about it, too. That's why you're here." Avery paused.

"So, how are we supposed to run this department with five people?" Julio asked.

"Six."

"Uh, no. There's only five of us now."

"Six - I'm counting myself. I may be the manager now, but I'm still capable of sorting books, driving the bookmobile, stocking shelves. I'm going to be working alongside all of you."

"Maxine never did that," Desmond noted.

"Well, I'm not Maxine. Not unless you find a couple hundred grand in the lining of my coat." Avery smiled.

"Seriously, though - we're going to need more than just six people," Annabel said. "How soon can we expect help?"

"Soon. Very soon," Avery replied. "I'm going to start looking for new candidates immediately. But don't expect me to find new people instantly. It's a lot more important that we hire the right people than that we hire them quickly. In the meantime ... well, there's going to be a backlog, I'm sure. But nothing that can't be fixed later."

"You sound suspiciously confident," Harriet noted.

"I am. I expect great things from this group."


*****

The ride home on the bus that night was a roller-coaster for Avery. On the one hand was the gut-wrenching memories of the people he had to fire. In his head, he kept going over the words he used - Avery could hear his voice over and over again as he said "we have to let you go." He chided himself for using such a wimpy euphemism - you let too-small fish go after you catch them, but people just get fired. Maybe it would have been better to do things short and quick - you're fired, here's you severance, see you never. But Avery had felt the need to explain his decision, almost as if he was trying to convince the people being fired that they deserved it. Really, he realized, he was trying to convince himself that it was the right decision. Is this what being a manager is like - constantly second-guessing yourself?

On the other hand, Avery was pleased with the group of people he was left with. As wrenching as those firings were, it was the only way to pare the staff down to the core group. And everyone who was left was someone that Avery trusted - as a friend, as an employee, as a person. And he felt confident that his little pep-rally at the end of the day had convinced them of that trust. Good morale was the only way he could see out of the situation that he found himself in - understaffed and over-scrutinized.

More than anything, Avery was itching to get home and talk to Kate. She always had a way of reassuring him - making him confident in his decisions, or convincing him of a path that he hadn't yet chosen.

As he came in the door, he saw that Kate was on the telephone. He smiled, and she gave him a half-wave and then turned her back, walking into the back room off the kitchen. Avery figured she was talking to her mother about her father's health - he had been diagnosed with cancer five years earlier, and despite constant treatments, the cancer kept returning. Kate's mom sometimes thought that her husband should cease treatment and let the cancer run its course - allowing him to die with dignity. But Kate's dad was not the kind of guy who would ever cease treatment - he was a fighter through and through, and he didn't seem to think there was any dignity in death as long as any chance of survival remained. Avery frankly didn't know how Kate dealt with talking her mom through such hard times. His own instinct was to fight as long as possible, but to quit once the outcome was clear. But Kate respected her father too much to be that pragmatic about it, and so she spent a lot of time talking her mother through some of the harder decisions that her dad had made.

All of this thinking about his father-in-law's illness started to get Avery down, and he found himself staring at a piece of artwork on the wall that he had never thought much about before. Kate's friend Susanna had made the piece - a half-collage, half-painting - and Avery just now realized it was a man being literally pulled in two directions. The aptness of this artwork to his father-in-law's condition was readily apparent, and Avery suddenly felt himself overcome by a bittersweet feeling of loss.

At that moment, he turned to see Kate walking back into the kitchen. She was no longer on the phone. Avery was mentally preparing himself to console her when he realized the she didn't look sad. In fact, she was grinning from ear to ear.

"I got it!"

"What? Got what?"

"I got a research fellowship and a $10,000 grant!"

Avery was dumb-struck. He just stood staring at Kate, his jaw hanging open. Kate ran forward, arms outstretched and jumped into his arms.

"I got it! I got it!"

"But, I ... I ... when? When? What?" Avery was desperately searching for words as Kate kissed him all around his face.

"I apply for this a few months back. The deadline passed and I never heard anything, so I figured my application was rejected."

"What application?"

"I submitted a research proposal on the effects of overseas deployment on the academic performance of children of military personnel."

"When did you do this?" Avery asked as he put her down.

"I told you - a few months ago."

"No ... I mean, when did you start working up this proposal? How did I not know about it?"

"It's something that I've been working on for a while. Y'know, something that I work on between eating bon-bons during the day." She smiled. "But I never thought it had a chance, so I never really told you about it."

"Of course it had a chance! Kate, this is fantastic. You're fantastic!" He kissed her deeply. "We need to celebrate!"

*****

When Avery said they had to celebrate, he meant only one thing - they had to go to ZERO, a punk-rock coffee shop on Center St., a few blocks from their house. Avery had been going there for years, ever since his time at UWM. Years later, he took Kate there on their second date to see a local band perform. After that, it became their go-to place for fun occasions, especially once they bought a house in the neighborhood. For the last couple years, they had gone less and less frequently - money was tight and there just weren't too many things to celebrate. But with Avery's promotion and Kate's fellowship, it seemed like the perfect time to go.

As they walked to ZERO, a light rain fell, making the leaves piled in the street damp. Avery had worn his ratty old boots, and they were soon covered in bits of wet leaves and dirt, though Kate somehow managed to keep her Converse clean. Walking in to the shop, Avery couldn't help but notice how young the other patrons were.

"Jeez. I bet we're the only married couple here," he whispered to Kate. "When did we get so old?"

"Oh, it's just you imagination," she answered, not sounding too sure of herself. "These kids aren't any younger than usual."

"Maybe, but we must be older - you called them kids."

"I did not," Kate corrected, even though she knew he was right.

Still bickering in hushed tones, they approached the counter. "I'll have a double caramel macchiato," Kate said.

"And for you, sir?"

"Sir? Are you talking to me?" Avery asked. The young man at the counter, with a twice-pierced lip, nail polish, and a bicycle-chain necklace just stared back, confused. "How old do you ..." Avery stopped himself. If he had finished the sentence, he was fairly certain that he would age fifteen years on the spot. "I'll have a latte, thanks," he said after a pause.

As they walked over to a booth, Kate looked at Avery with wide eyes. "That guy is totally going to spit in your coffee," she said with a laugh.

"He is not!" Avery insisted, trying to keep his voice low. "Is he? He wouldn't really do that, would he?"

Kate just kept laughing and sat down. After a few minutes, when the same young man brought their drinks to the table, Avery thanked him effusively for the coffee.

"Now he just thinks you're hitting on him."

Avery's face turned red. "Let's change the subject."

"Fair enough."

"Do you notice something wrong in here?"

"Ave, I don't really think he spit in your coffee."

"No, forget about the coffee. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Exactly!" Besides the chatter of the dozen or so people sitting around in booths and at a counter that looked out onto the street, there was no sound in the whole shop. "My dear, this is a punk-rock coffee shop, not a library," Avery said in a faux-sophisticated voice. "We need some tunes." From his pocket, he produced a handful of quarters. "Go nuts."

"Oh, hell yeah!" Kate exclaimed, snatching the quarters and dashing across the room to the jukebox. One of the things that made ZERO so much fun was that the jukebox was always stocked with an ever-changing array of quality music - punk, new wave, alternative, indie - culled from the collection of various employees and regular customers. The only song that was always available was the shop's namesake song by the Smashing Pumpkins (the shop had been renamed for the song a number of years back - originally it was called "Hasenpfeffer").

Having made her selection, Kate raced back to the booth and grabbed Avery by the hand. "Come on!"

"What did you choose?"

"Oh, you'll see," said answered, having dragged him to the middle of the room. After a few seconds, The Smiths' Panic came blaring out of the too-loud speakers:

Panic on the streets on London!
Panic on the streets of Birmingham!

"Now let's dance!" Kate shouted as she started moving. Neither she nor Avery were accomplished dancers, but they sure had fun trying.

As they danced, Avery lean in towards Kate "You do realize everyone's looking, right?"

"So what!"

Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life
Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music they constantly play
...
Hang the DJ! Hang the DJ! Hang the DJ!
Hang the DJ! Hang the DJ! Hang the DJ!

They danced through the length of the song (mercifully short, for the sake of Avery's ego) before returning to their booth to talk while the remainder of Kate's selections played - The Violent Femmes, Tori Amos, Sonic Youth, The Talking Heads, Patti Smith, with some Guns 'N Roses thrown in for irony's sake. Mostly the conversation veered towards the sort of inane topics that Kate and Avery loved to discuss. They could spend literally hours discussing strategies for eating breakfast cereal or how ones sneakers determine their politics (Libertarians wear Adidas, by the way).

Finally, as the night wore on and the music quieted down, they started discussing more adult topics. "So what's the plan for researching your dissertation?"

"I'm thinking that I'm going to try to do everything I can working from home and from campus - there are a lot of primary sources online for my topic. Beyond that, I'll probably have to make a few trips to Madison for National Guard deployment records. And then probably to Washington D.C. for national records at some point."

"To contrast regular Army with National Guard?"

"Exactly."

"So when do you foresee going to Washington?"

"Well, I'm going to wait until I have a better sense of where the research is at before I plan it - obviously, I want to be as prepared as possible, because I only want to go once, if possible. So it's probably a couple years down the line."

Avery paused. "It's a good topic. I'm really proud of you."

Kate smiled.

*****

On the way home, Avery and Kate started talking about Avery's big news - the personnel changes at the library.


"You had to fire people?"

"Yeah, and it got kinda ugly."

"Like what do you mean?"

"Swearing, yelling, crying, door slamming. Y'know, mature adult behavior."

"Ave, I had no idea that you had such a bad day. And here I was going on and on about my good news. We should have been talking about your stuff."

"No, Kate, that's the thing - listening to your news really cheered me up. I mean, you're my wife and I love you, and I love hearing that things are going well for you - that you're finally getting the recognition that you deserve."

"Well, okay. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Honestly, yes. Today sucked, and I really don't want to rehash the gory details."

"Okay."

"Besides, I've gotta think about moving ahead with big changes in the department. No time to dwell on the past."

"What kind of changes?"

"Well, I've going to be hiring new people, and there's a lot of money in the budget for technology and stuff. I guess what I don't really know is how I'm going to find good people to hire."

"Well, what are you looking for?"

"Hard workers - honest, dedicated, smart. Y'know, perfect employees," he said with a laugh. "I guess what I really need specifically are people who aren't jaded, who are willing to invest themselves in the job."

"Have you thought about the Mayor's Students-to-Work program?"

"The what?"

"You haven't heard about this?"

"I'm not the one studying education initiatives."

Kate laughed. "It's basically a plan to help gifted high school students get entry level jobs in fields with real opportunity for advancement, instead of working at the McDonald's or whatever. All the participants are minority students with at least a B-average."

"Do you know anyone with experience in this program?"

"Yeah, there's a guy at school who works part-time at a law firm downtown. He said they had a girl there in the program - real smart, real good worker. He said the only problem was that she ended up going off to Michigan State for college."

"Hmm." Avery stopped walking. "That sounds like exactly what I need."

"Yeah, hey?"