It's not Cost Shifting, it's Plain Old Cost Raising.
In a May 13th article in the Indianapolis Business Journal, a Health Affairs study debunks a common belief among healthcare professional:
Rather than aggressively raising prices on private health insurers to make up for inadequate payments from the government, hospitals across the country—including in Indianapolis—have been raising prices just because they can, according to a new study.
The study finds that as Medicare costs rise, so do private insurer's costs. They move rather in tandem. But can this last forever?
ON THE ECONOMIST'S OTHER HAND...
An IBJ article from yesterday announces that St. Vincent's will cut 865 jobs, mostly from the administrative ranks. The cuts are chalked up to reimbursement cuts which are anticipated from Obamacare and other government budget cuts. It is also because the company which owns St. VIncent's, Ascension Health Alliance, wants to raise margins. (What happened to not-for-profit?)
Providers figured that Obamacare cuts would be offset by Medicaid Expansion and the decrease in the uninsured. But with many states not expanding Medicaid (including Indiana), that freshet of revenue will not develop.
Fort Wayne Biz Lawyers
My name is Rob Feightner. I am an experienced corporate attorney that provides cost-effective and practical solutions for the needs of businesses and individuals. This blog focuses upon matters important to small- and medium-sized businesses.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Friday, May 31, 2013
Is your Boss a Sociopath? Are You? Am I?
Is your Boss a Sociopath? Are You? Am I?
Not in the same class as a sociopath, but interesting
individuals, are Narcissists. Narcissists share some traits with sociopaths.
They lack empathy, are very thin-skinned and grandiose in their own images. In
a sense Narcissists are sociopaths that cannot completely close the deal.
An article by Craig Milkin, a Clinical Psychologist, wrote a
recent article about the warning signs of Narcissism and how to detect them.
Here are five things to look for:
1) Projected
Feelings of Insecurity: I don't mean that narcissists see insecurity
everywhere. I'm talking about a different kind of projection altogether, akin
to playing hot potato with a sense of smallness and deficiency. Narcissists say
and do things, subtle or obvious, that make you feel less smart, less
accomplished, less competent. It's as if they're saying, "I don't want to
feel this insecure and small; here, you take the feelings." Picture the
boss who questions your methods after their own decision derails an important
project, the date who frequently claims not to understand what you've said,
even when you've been perfectly clear, or the friend who always damns you with
faint praise ("Pretty good job this time!"). Remember the saying:
"Don't knock your neighbor's porch light out to make yours shine
brighter." Well, the narcissist loves to knock out your lights to seem
brighter by comparison. [Authors note: Look for those people
that are “one-uppers,” those that no matter how well you have done, they have “one-up”
on you.]
2) Emotion-phobia: Feelings are a natural consequence
of being human, and we tend to have lots of them in the course of normal
interactions. But the very fact of having a feeling in the presence of another
person suggests you can be touched emotionally by friends, family, partners,
and even the occasional tragedy or failure. Narcissists abhor feeling
influenced in any significant way. It challenges their sense of perfect
autonomy; to admit to a feeling of any kind suggests they can be affected by
someone or something outside of them. So they often change the subject when
feelings come up, especially their own, and as quick as they might be to anger,
it's often like pulling teeth to get them to admit that they've reached the
boiling point -- even when they're in the midst of the most terrifying tirade.
3) A Fragmented Family Story: Narcissism
seems to be born of neglect and abuse, both of which are notorious for creating
an insecure attachment style (for more on attachment, see here
and here).
But the very fact that narcissists, for all their posturing, are deeply
insecure, also gives us an easy way to spot them. Insecurely attached people
can't talk coherently about their family and childhood; their early memories
are confused, contradictory, and riddled with gaps. Narcissists often give
themselves away precisely because their childhood story makes no sense, and the
most common myth they carry around is the perfect family story. If your date
sings their praises for their exalted family but the reasons for their
panegyric seem vague or discursive, look out. The devil is in the details, as
they say -- and very likely, that's why you're not hearing them.
4) Idol Worship: Another common
narcissistic tendency you might be less familiar with is the habit of putting
people on pedestals. The logic goes a bit like this: "If I find someone
perfect to be close to, maybe some of their perfection will rub off on me, and
I'll become perfect by association." The fact that no one can be perfect
is usually lost on the idol-worshipping narcissist -- at least until they
discover, as they inevitably do, that their idol has clay feet. And stand back
once that happens. Few experiences can prepare you for the vitriol of a
suddenly disappointed narcissist. Look out for any pressure to conform to an
image of perfection, no matter how lovely or magical the compulsive flattery might
feel.
5) A High Need for Control: For the same
reason narcissists often loathe the subject of feelings, they can't stand to be
at the mercy of other people's preferences; it reminds them that they aren't
invulnerable or completely independent -- that, in fact, they might have to ask
for what they want -- and even worse, people may not feel like meeting the
request. Rather than express needs or preferences themselves, they often
arrange events (and maneuver people) to orchestrate the outcomes they desire.
In the extreme form, this can manifest as abusive, controlling behaviors.
(Think of the man who berates his wife when dinner isn't ready as soon as he
comes home. He lashes out precisely because at that very moment, he's forced to
acknowledge that he depends on his wife, something he'd rather avoid.)
But as with most of these red flags, the efforts at control are often far
subtler than outright abuse. Be on the lookout for anyone who leaves you
feeling nervous about approaching certain topics or sharing your own
preferences. Narcissists have a way of making choices feel off-limits without
expressing any anger at all -- a disapproving wince, a last-minute call to
preempt the plans, chronic lateness whenever you're in charge of arranging a
night together. It's more like a war of attrition on your will than an outright
assault on your freedom.
As business people and business lawyers, we probably ask
ourselves what separates the good from the great, the great from the average,
and the average from talented neer’ do wells. I have my own ideas, but it would
be nice to hear yours.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
MIXED MESSAGES. OR WHAT IS THE MESSAGE?
The BizView editorial in the Greater Fort Wayne Weekly in
the May 10-16th addition was entitled “Mixed Messages.” It compared and contrasted two state business
rankings. The message was indeed mixed.
The first provided good news. Indiana, in a Chief Executive
Magazine annual ranking, was number 5, behind only Texas, Florida, North
Carolina and Tennessee. The survey focused on tax and regulation, work-force
skills and quality of life. And placed Indiana at its frequent position of the
most northerly of “southern states.”
The second study, however, by The US Chamber of Commerce,
put Indiana squarely in the middle. It did well in infrastructure and exports,
but lagged in business climate, entrepreneurship and was number 48 on talent
pipeline. This is certainly a function of educated youth out-migration. You
just can’t keep them on the farm.
So which is correct? Well, next to this editorial is the
always enlightening and entertaining Morton J. Marcus. In the parlance of the elevator
story, Indiana came out generally well in annual weekly earnings. It came in 14th
in earnings growth.
IF INDIANA IS NOT AVERAGE, WHAT ELSE CAN IT BE?
The author is always a little concerned when Indiana’s ranking
deviates from an average ranking in nearly any category. Call it experience. Call
it the love of the median and regression to the mean. Call it no trust in
outliers.
The Editorial closes with this statement “We’ve made
strides, but we’ve got a long way to go.” I guess you could say that about nearly anything.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Pigs get Fat, Hogs Get Slaughtered
The Author loves the entrepreneurial spirit in this nation. It
is a creative force, an energy, and nearly always improves the lives of the entrepreneur
and the customers, clients and citizens. Except when…
A few folks kind of overdo it. Or probably more properly
stated, set out to push the edges of the law. And step across the line from
pushing the edge to breaking the string and veering into illegality.
The Greater Fort Wayne Business Weekly (the best business
publication in Fort Wayne, in the author’s opinion, because they do real reporting
and not puff pieces with slick ads and pictures. The Author will probably get
slammed on this, but he owns the “printing press,” right?) has an article in
Doug Le Duc’s “Reporter’s Notebook – Banking & Finance” on page 6 of the
April 19-25 edition.
Le Duc reports on a recent suit by Indiana Attorney General
Greg Zoeller against National Deed Service Inc. and National Record Service
Inc. The suit claims that the companies offer copies of certified real estate
deeds to property owners at exorbitant prices. The first copy is $59.50 and
extra copies are $20. The prices are definitely exorbitant. More outrageous
than the cost of Ducati motorcycle parts. (Again, just kidding.)
But as exorbitant as the prices are, the companies also “mimic
government legal documents which mislead customers into believing they need a
copy of their property deed.”
A copy of your deed is a nice thing to have, and you were
likely given one at the real estate closing. And they are easy and relatively
cheap to get at your county recorder’s office.
This law suit was supported by numerous county recorders in
Indiana.
A deed is not like the title to your motor vehicle. You do
not need a copy to sell your property. You do not “sign over” the deed, but in
fact draft a new one specific to the purchasers. The deed is kept in the County
Recorder’s office and is a public record. And as a practical matter, many title
insurance companies have copies of your deed, and other recorded documents, in parallel
public records that are called “title plants.”
Indiana Attorney General Zoeller is suing the companies
under the Deceptive Commercial Solicitation Act and the Deceptive Consumer
Sales Act.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
The Diamond Lake Door
THE DIAMOND LAKE DOOR
By ROBERT C. FEIGHTNER©2007
Author's Note: This short story is not business related. It is a fantasy short story I posted here for my facebook friends. Business material will be posted in a few days.
The man looked to be about a
hundred years old. Teeth gone, a week of stubble, a whirly-gray mop of hair on
his wrinkled-up head.
The boys meet him while fishing
on the South Branch.
The boys were cut loose from
chores earlier in the day and had gone fishing. They had some luck, too with
wigglers. Between the four of them, they’d hauled in nine nice small-mouth
bass.
Johnny, Isaac, Tom and
Nathaniel had just gotten out of the fifth grade for summer. They lived in town
so they didn’t have to work all day like the farm kids. They had chores, like
in the vegetable garden and hauling in wood or coal for the stove, but they had
most days to themselves.
Local folks and the town
merchants kept an eye on them, partly beause they knew their parents, partly because
Isaac and Johnny weren’t above slipping a candy or a tobacco plug into their
pockets. But they weren’t ruffians or anything, so most folks just let them be
boys.
The old man introduced
himself as “Chestnut Daniel”. He claimed he fought with General Winfield Scott
in the Mexican-American War. He said he was a drummer boy and that he got
grazed by a musket ball at Cerro Gordo.
“See the
crease,” he said, pulling up the straggly gray hair that grew down below his
ears. “This here crease is why I can find things that other folks can’t. This
here crease is why I can go places other folks can’t. This crease is why I see
things…”
He did
have a crease. It started above his ear and went back a ways. It looked like a
little red canyon in the side of his head.
“Horse
hockey,” Isaac said. “You’re just a’ sayin’ all this so we’ll give you over some
fish ‘cause you ain’t had breakfast or dinner.”
The old
man pulled an iron pan out his bindle. He set it down, and then took a small
tin of lard from the bindle. He smiled at the boys and winked at Nathaniel with
his one good eye. The old man had a wall-eye just like Nathaniel.
“Now you young fellers said
you’d share me a couple of them nice fish if I told you about the Diamond Lake
Door. So let me tell you about it.”
He took
the two fish down to the river and cleaned the fish on a shore rock. He left
the heads, tails, scales and offal on the rock.
“You
think we was smart giving that old fella two fish to hear some stories,” Tom
asked.
Isaac
shook his head no. Johnny shifted his weight from onside to the other.
“We got
plenty of fish to bring home. I figure we can spare two,” Johnny said.
The old
feller brought the cleaned fish back up from the river. He set them on his blanket.
He dipped up a small amount of lard from the tin and put it in the pan. Then he
placed the pan over his small fire.
“Yeah,
boys, them fish will cook up nice.”
The
story began simple enough. Ever since he
got creased with the Mexican musket ball, the old man said, he sees ghosts,
things from the future, things from the past. Sometimes, the old man said, he
could see other places or even walk in and out of other places. He saw them in
Mexico, he saw them on the evacuation ship, and he’s seen them ever since.
“Sometimes
I can just look at a feller, or a house, or a lady and I can see what they were
a doin’ some time back. Or what is going to happen come next week, or next
year. I can’t only sometimes tell when something happened or will happen, but I
can see it, just the same,” the old man said, pulling the bones out of the fish
with his knife.
“Damn
good fish, boys. Damn fine.”
“You see
anything about us,” Nathaniel asked.
“Can’t
say for sure. This mornin’ I kind of saw that you boys would be out here. But
that’s all I can remember. There was more, but I can’t remember what it all
was,” the man replied.
“Wasn’t
you going to tell us about the Diamond Lake Door,” Johnny said.
“Well
yeah, I am a getting’ there. Just hold your water,” the old man said.
“Like I
be ah sayin, I see things, see ghosts, see other places. And a few times, just
a few now mind you, I come across places where I can walk in and out of other
times, other places.”
Isaac
and Johnny stood back away with crossed arms. But Tom and Nathaniel were
sitting crossed legged, with their hands on their chins and their elbow on
their knees.
“I call
them places “Doors”, because that’s about the best word for them. There was a
lot of them in Mexico. Land’s sake, there were at least eight or ten of them.
Some of them went back to the Indians or them old Spaniards wearin’ the steel helmets
and breast plates. One of them was real noisy, with people talkin’ loud that I
couldn’t see.’
“When I
got back to America, I didn’t see the doors for awhile. But coming through Ohio
in 1852, I come across another ‘un. And this one I walked into. Yes sir, I done
walked right into it. And it took me right back into the past.”
“What
was it like,” asked Nathaniel.
“Well,
young man, it was real cold when I first stepped into it. Cold like to go
through your bones.’
“But
then it was warm again, just like summer time. Yes, I recall it was summer.
There had been a little skirmish, I reckon. Soldiers dressed like they was from
the first Indian wars, four of them layin’ dead. Dead for a few days, by a
smellin’. A couple had hatchet marks in their heads and the other two was shot
through with musket balls. Indians got them fellas.’
“Where
was the Indians,” Tom asked.
“Them
Indians was long gone. I wouldn’t of hung around if them Indians was still
there. Well, then, the Indians had taken the men’s muskets and near everything
they had. But one of the men had a pistol that the Indians must have missed. So
I grabbed the pistol and went back out of the door.”
“How’d
you find the door to go back out, Tom asked.
“The
doors stay open for awhile. And when you get close to them, you can see through
to the other side.”
“We
wasted two fish on this old scutter,” Isaac said, “We’re crazier than he is.”
Isaac walked down to the river
and started chucking rocks into the water. But Tom and Nathaniel remained
intently, and Johnny stayed to listen.
“I can
understand why a fella like your friend don’t believe what I’m sayin’. I could
hardly believe it myself if it didn’t happen to me.’
“Well, I
go back through the door and bring back the pistol with me. I take it into town
and take it to a gunsmith. The gunsmith says that he hasn’t seen this model in
years. It was made by William Parker around 1790, he figured. But he give me four
dollars for it.”
“What
about the Diamond Lake Door,” Nathaniel pressed.
“Well,
last winter I fixed me up a nice lean-to just north of Diamond Lake. I done a
lot of fishing through the ice. One morning I am just wakin’ up and hear’d a
bunch of commotion and people talking. And it was another door. I go through
the door and now it’s night time. I walk a little ways through the trees and
find the folks ‘a talkin’. A bunch of fellers had this horse thief tied up.
Some of them wanted to hang him, some of them wanted to take him to the
courthouse in Goshen.’
“I
stayed back a ways cause I didn’t want to get messed in with them. They might
of thought I was a friend of the feller’s and trying to get him loose. I didn’t
want my neck stretched. So I found the door and came back out.”
“They
did hang a man out there. He was part of a gang of horse stealers. The
Regulators caught him and hung him,” Nathaniel said.
“That’s
just an old story,” Johnny replied. “I heard that story myself.”
“No,” Nathaniel
said, “my dad said it was true. He heard it from L.Q. Hiatt’s dad. Hiatt’s dad said
he was there and was with the Regulators.”
“I can’t
say I seen ‘em hang the fella,” the old man said, “but they’s ready to.”
“And
that weren’t the only time I went through the door. I went through it three other times. Didn’t
see any other people, but it took me back some years in time, before they was
gravel pittin’ on Diamond Lake hill. And
a couple of times, it took me back to Ohio, where I think I was from.”
“What do
you mean, think you were from? Don’t you know,” asked Tom.
“Boys, I
don’t remember nothin’ before I was creased with that Mexican musket ball. Not
nothin’. Not where I was from, who my kin was, my pa’s name. I couldn’t
remember my own name ‘cept that they told me what it was. But now I just go by ‘Chestnut
Daniel.’
“And I
think I’m from Ohio, because that is what the Army told me, that my enlistment
papers said some town in Ohio.”
The old
man told them to just go out to Diamond Lake Hill and they might find the
Diamond Lake Door. He thanked them for the fish, washed off his frying pan in
the river, and packed up his bindle.
“You
ever remember what you seen about us,” Nathaniel asked as the old man was
leaving.
“Not
exactly. But it seems like it is something big. I just can’t quite see it,” he
replied.
He took
off north towards the Lake Shore and Southern Michigan Railroad. He said he was
going to follow the tracks west for a ways.
War!
When they got back to town the main street of Lincoln was rollicking with the
news that the country was at war with Spain and was going to send troops to
fight in Cuba, Puerto Rico and somewhere over in the Pacific Ocean.
A few of the business men
and livery men gathered out in front of the newspaper office of the “Lincoln
Banner”. Nathaniel’s father owned the newspaper. War fever had been running high and most of
the men, middle-aged and some quite rotund, backed the invasions.
But while their parents and
the people out in front of Nathaniel’s father’s small newspaper office were
abuzz about war, the boys were thinking about the Diamond Lake Door.
Even
though Isaac was down at the river throwing rocks while Johnny, Tom and
Nathaniel were listening to the old fellow, he did hear most of what was said.
And Isaac agreed with his friends that they should go out to Diamond Lake and
look for the Door. Diamond Lake was only about five miles outside of town. It was a little over an hour’s walk each way,
so they’d have most of the day to look for the Door.
The boys
met up about 8 o’clock the next morning. They headed south out of town to meet
up with the Diamond Lake Road. The Diamond Lake Road would take them right
along the north edge of the lake, where Chestnut Daniel said they could find
the Door.
It was late
April and the farmers were out in the field. Draft horses pulled plows across
the fields. The winter wheat fields were
bright green against the browner fence rows.
They recognized some of the men and boys and waved to them from the
road.
“Ain’t
you glad we don’t have to spend our days looking up a horse’s ass like those
farmers,” Isaac asked.
“Yep”
was the consensus.
The farm
fields thinned out as they approached Diamond Lake. The land got hilly with
small marshes in the low places. There were a few shacks and a couple houses on
the North Side of Diamond Lake. And the Diamond Lake Hill, which rose about two
hundred feet above the lake itself. There was a gravel pit near the top of the
hill.
“What do
you think is the best way to find the Door,” Nathaniel said.
No one
offered a prompt answer. So Nathaniel spoke again.
“I
figure we should find the old man’s lean-to and start looking around from
there. ‘Member he said that he was sleeping and heard some people talking and
then he went through the Door. So I figure the Door must be close to that
lean-to,” Nathaniel said.
Isaac
stopped walking and the other boys stopped.
“That
makes sense. I kind of remember the old feller talking about his lean-to and
then finding the Door,’ Isaac offered.
“Yeah,
me too, “Tom said, “I heard him say that he was waking up from sleeping and
heard the people from the Door talkin’. I think startin’ at the lean-to is the
way to go.”
They saw
the lake as they approached it. The leaves were just budding out on the trees
and it was easy to see through them. The
lake was deep blue in color with shiny reflections. A south wind was rippling
up the water.
At the
base of Diamond Lake Hill was the rutted road leading up the hill to the pit
and a couple of side trails. The boys decided to split up, with Johnny and
Isaac taking the road and Tom and Nathaniel taking each side trail. If one of
them found the lean-to, they would yell out.
It
didn’t take long to find the lean-to. It was about a hundred feet east of the
pit road. Isaac found it and called out to the other boys.
The
lean-to was more leaning than standing. There was a fire pit out front of it, a
few old newspapers inside on the ground, and some oiled paper tacked up on some
of the logs. Not much to recommend it. The boys had seen nicer houses for dogs
in the Sears and Roebuck catalogs.
“No
wonder the old scutter was swapping stories for fish,” Isaac said, “Mighty poor
looking place to spend the winter. Mighty poor. It would seem like that feller
would have found him a Door to a more prosperous place.”
The boys
agreed that they would each go in a different direction, walk slow and just
look around. The old man said it was cold around the doors and that sometimes
you could see through them. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was all they had.
Nathaniel
walked very slow, watching for the slightest evidence of the Door. He was
careful and measured in his steps, treading as lightly as he could across the
dried leaves, downed tree branches and the occasional maypole plant that
sprouted early in the spring. He could hear Johnny tromping along to his left,
but the sounds faded as they separated.
He
figured he would concentrate close to the lean-to, making several loops north for
a ways and then back to the lean-to. He
didn’t have much faith that they could find the Diamond Lake Door. A musket
ball could probably disturb a man’s mind so that he could believe he was seeing
something that wasn’t really there. He’d seen crazy people talk to themselves
like they were talking to other people, so it seemed possible that the old man
had the same thing wrong with him.
But if
they could find the Door, they’d be famous. It would be in the newspapers and
on the newswire. They might report it all around the world. England, France,
maybe China even. They might even make up a book about it and go on a tour like
so many book writers did. His dad would surely put a story about the Diamond
Lake Door in the “Lincoln Banner.”
Crack! Thunder slammed through the air. A cold wind
powered through the branches on the trees. Nathaniel looked up and saw that the
sky was still clear. There had been no lighting. He heard Isaac yelling over to
the east of him.
Johnny
and Tom were also across the forest. Nathaniel ran toward Isaac’s voice and he
could hear Johnny and Tom running and yelling behind him.
“I found
it. I damn well found it,” Isaac yelled.
About thirty-feet away from Isaac was the Door.
It would shine one minute and then dim. Its edges wiggled around. But if you
looked straight into it, you could see someplace else, just like another room
behind an open door.
And it
was cold around the Door, just like the old man said.
“That’s
it,” hooted Johnny, “You found that Door that crazy feller was talkin’ about!”
“Yeah,” replied
Isaac, “but the old scutter don’t seem so crazy now.”
The boys
slowly approached the Door.
“Where
do you think it goes,” Tom asked.
“Don’t
know,” Isaac said, “But it looks like a dusty road on the other side.”
Johnny
threw a stick into the Door. The stick landed on the other side of the Door. It
kicked up some dust on the other side of the Door. A little bit of the dust
blew back through the Door towards the boys.
“Damn,
you see that? We could reach through there and fetch that stick back,” Johnny
said.
“Do it,”
said Isaac.
Johnny approached
the Door and gingerly placed his hand into the Door. His arm appeared on the
other side of the Door, but he was not close enough to reach the stick. He
waved his arm around a little through the Door.
“What’s
it like,” asked Nathaniel.
“Feels a
little warmer. Like it might be summertime,” Johnny replied. Then he stepped
through. He picked up the stick and looked around. The remaining three boys
could see Johnny on the other side of the door. Then he stepped back through
the Door with the stick in hand.
“Damn,
that was easy.”
“What
was it like over there,” Nathaniel asked again.
“Well,
it was warm and sunny. Like summer time. I looked up the road and there was a
town just up the way. It looked like I was on the edge of town,” Johnny
explained.
“Did you
see anybody,” Isaac asked.
“No, but
I could see a couple horses in a field by the road. They was behind an old
split-rail fence. And there was a lot of
fresh tracks and wagon wheel ruts on the road,” Johnny said.
“What do
you think, fellas? Should we go through it,” Isaac asked.
“Yeah,”
Nathaniel said and walked through.
Johnny
followed quickly, then Isaac. Only Tom remained, standing hesitantly near the Door.
“Come on
Tom, come on”, the boys said, motioning to Tom. But he would not move. And he
did not respond or otherwise say anything.
The
three boys on the other side of the Diamond Lake Door looked at each other
wondering what to do next.
“Let him
stay back there,” Isaac said, “He can stand there and make sure we can get
back.”
They
nodded and Isaac said, “Tom, just stay put and wait for us. Okay? Okay?”
When Tom
finally nodded “yes”, Isaac said, “Let’s go into town and see where we’re at.”
It was
indeed summer. Warm and humid, just like an Indiana summer. It looked like they
could be in Indiana. The trees, the grass and the weeds looked the same. And
there was corn growing in fields.
The town
was pretty close. They could see houses and shacks up ahead. As they approached, they could hear horses.
But there were no trains or railroad tracks. Nor steam engine sounds, like
those coming from a mill or factory.
The
houses looked older. Many were small, some were made from brick. Some were made
of solid beams with plaster between the beams, a few were log houses. There
were hogs, chickens and vegetable gardens in some of the front yards.
Closer
to the center of the town were a couple of livery stables and some old
blacksmith shops. The livery stables had old buggies out front and the
blacksmiths forges were wood-fired with hand-pumped bellows.
One of
the livery stables had a sign. “Chillicothe Livery.”
And the
style of dress looked older, like old pictures of the earliest settlers around
Lincoln. And out of school books and library books.
People they passed were speaking English. A
few of them cast long, suspicious looks at the boys.
“These folks look at us more
peculiar than folks back in Lincoln. And we ain’t even swiped nothin’ or pulled
any pranks,” Johnny said.
“Where you figure we’re at,”
Isaac asked.
“Don’t know,” said
Nathaniel, “But from the looks of things, we’re back in time. We are wearin’
different clothes, even. Maybe that’s why some of ‘um are looking at us funny.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
The town looked to be about
the size of Lincoln. The general store had a sign that said “Chillicothe General
Store”, so they figured the name of the town must be “Chillicothe.”
Across the street from the
general store was the courthouse square. Some fellows were marching in military
formation on the courthouse lawn. A guy
in a uniform that looked like it was from the Revolutionary War was leading the
small band of men.
The boys stopped to watch
the men marching.
“They’re gettin’ up an Ohio regiment to go to
Mexico. Them fellers are drillin’ to get ready to go,” said a man coming out of
the general store.
The boys turned toward him.
“You fellers look a little
young to sign up. But you might make it as drummer boys or powder monkeys,” the
man offered.
“No, we’re just here in town
for a little while,” Isaac replied.
The man pulled a cigar from
his breast pocket, bit off the end, and lit it with a match.
“Well, this one will
probably be over for you are growed enough. Old Fuss and Feather’s will have
them Mezcans whupped in a month or two,” the man said. He then turned and
walked up the street.
The boys looked at each
other quizzically. Nathaniel was first to speak.
“That man must have been
talking about the war with Mexico. If we went back in time, that would make the
most sense. It could be 1846. We could ask somebody.”
“No, I wouldn’t do nothin’
to draw more attention to ourselves. If these folks here us say something about
being from the future time, they would lock us up thinking we are crazy,’ Isaac
said.
“Isaac’s right,” added
Johnny.
Nathaniel nodded in
agreement. They walked up the street a
little ways and came to a pump.
“I’m thirsty, how about you
guys,” said Isaac.
Nathaniel went to the pump
handle and began to pump. Isaac and Johnny knelt next to the trough and washed
their faces and hands in the trough water. When the water began to flow, Isaac,
then Johnny, cupped their hands in the flow of the cold, clear water and drank.
“I haven’t seen you boys
around here before,” said a man in waist coat and a top hat.
Isaac stuttered a bit but
Nathaniel came to the rescue.
“We’re just passing
through,” Nathaniel said.
“Aren’t you fellows kind of
young to be traveling without your Ma and Pa,” the man inquired.
“We’re orphans,” Nathaniel
replied.
Crack! A wave of thunder cracked across the sky,
followed by a cold blast of wind.
“I’ll be damned” said the
man, “we just had thunder and cold air come through a little while ago. In the
middle of the summer. Can you believe that?”
“It’s the Door,” yelled
Nathaniel, “Something must be happening.”
They sprinted down the road
out of town. Johnny was the fastest of the boys and ran out ahead, followed
closely by Isaac and Nathaniel. They pumped their arms and drove hard down the
road.
They passed the blacksmiths
and livery stables on the way out of town, and the motley collection of houses.
A few people paused to look at them, but no one tried to follow.
Ahead they could see the
Door. It was dimming and flashing, and changing size. As they got closer, they
could see it starting to close. And they could see Tom on the other side,
waiving and yelling at them to come through the Door.
Johnny leapt into the
shrinking opening. Isaac, close behind, dived into the Door the instant it
closed.
**************************************************************************************
Johnny
landed at Tom’s feet and rolled a couple of times. He quickly jumped to his
feet.
Isaac’s
torso fell to the ground. Johnny and Tom looked in horror at the lifeless eyes
and the body that was severed just below the chest. And thought of Nathaniel,
lost and alone on the other side of the Diamond Lake Door.
********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Chestnut
Daniel followed the railroad tracks west towards Goshen. He walked the rails
until well after dark. West of Millersburg he came upon a stopped freight
train. He found an open boxcar door and climbed up inside. The car was empty
and he set out his bedroll.
A few
minutes later the boxcar jerked and creaked as it started to move. It was heading west at a slow pace. Chestnut
Daniel lay down upon his bedroll and fell asleep to the sway and roll of the
moving train. He slept through the night and well into next morning.
Crack!
He was startled in his sleep by a cannonade of thunder. He was standing at a
pump. He yelled something and he and his friends were running through the small
town. Running, running, at his fastest clip behind Johnny and Isaac.
Lungs
afire, leg muscles straining. Eyes burned in on a hole in the world.
Johnny
dived into the hole. Then Isaac.
“Isaac,”
he screamed. The hole closed and Isaac was sliced in half just below the chest.
Nathaniel tripped over the lifeless torso and limbs. He rolled a couple of
times and stood over his friend’s remains.
Just as
quickly as he had run up the road, his mind was back in the box car. He was
trembling and awash in sweat. A thousand memories flooded over him. He knew where he was from and how he got into
the Mexican War.
And just
as a door had opened and closed many years ago, a window was now open and Chestnut
Daniel could see his life come into full view. He could not go back, but at
least he could see across the missing and muddled years, and look forward from
his own time and his own place.
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