Marshall Ramsey

Cheaters never win. 

The man in the diner folded his newspaper and muttered, “Bull#$%. Nice guys finish last.”  Since 2008, Bob Hammond’s faith in just about everything had been kicked in the groin.  Wall Street. Big banks. Politicians (well, he knew they lied). Tiger Woods. Now Lance Armstrong.

The former cyclist and cancer survivor had inspired Bob while he fought his own cancer.  Last night’s confession to Oprah had made Bob’s cancer scar burn with disgust.

He took a sip of his coffee and nearly spit it out. The boiling liquid scalded the roof of his mouth. “Good Lord, Maggie! Are you trying to kill me?”

The pain sent knives into his brain.

It was 6 a.m. and Bob was getting ready for his 7 a.m. shift.  The past two years had been rough at the plant.  His pay had been cut in half and his benefits cut. He now worked as a night watchman at the local big-box store to make ends meet. His daughter was about to head to college.  He didn’t want to strangle her dreams with huge student loan debt. She was a smart girl. Pretty like her mother and full of personality.  What kind of world was he leaving to her? She deserved better than this. “What is this world coming to?” he muttered out loud.

He used to listen to the guy on the radio rant about how bad things were and whose fault it was. About six months ago, he turned it off. He knew that all that guy was doing was using his fear to gin up ratings.  It would be really easy to think things were hopeless.  But in his heart, he knew better. This was America. And for all her faults, she still was the land of opportunity. He drank coffee. Not Kool Aid.

“Want me to freshen that up, Bob? So I can kill you some more?” Maggie was the friendliest waitress at the diner and probably the hardest working person Bob knew. Silver strands of wisdom flecked her raven hair. She probably was 40, tall, thin and extremely wise. She, too, had a daughter entering college.  And she also worked a couple of jobs to stretch the paycheck to cover the month.

Maggie grinned and said, “President says we need to create jobs. That’s awesome.  I could use a third.” Both laughed Maggie’s gallows humor.

“Do you ever get depressed, Maggie?” Bob put the paper down and put a fork-full of eggs in his mouth.

“Some days. But I don’t stay that way long. No time for it really.  I have too much to do.”

“Well, I do.” Bob knew his brain was like a garden. It grew amazing crops but also grew some pretty big weeds. “It has been rough since Hannah left.”

Maggie shuffled uncomfortably. She knew that Bob’s wife had left him. She didn’t know the circumstances, but she thought she had overhead the word “breakdown.”

“I’m sorry Bob.” What else could she say?  “Being a single parent is one of the most difficult and rewarding jobs out there. And from the looks of it, you’re doing a fine job.”

“Could always do better,” Bob sighed. Maggie stopped, smiled and nodded. She knew the challenges from her own daughter. Her husband Steve had run away with the church secretary three years ago.  Catching them in her bed was the lowest moment of her life. But she had bounced back.  She always did.

Bob took another sip of his coffee and thought about his work. His boss and gotten a new company car right after he had lost his salary.  “Well, at least it went somewhere it could do some good.” he muttered out loud.  He talked to himself frequently these days.

It was 6:15 and the first rays of the run were peeking over the city’s skyline.  Dark shadows reached toward the dinner and toward Bob’s soul.

Maggie walked over to her customer and put her hand on his. “Bob, it’s going to be OK. The only thing holding you back is you keep looking back.  Stop it. We’re in a moment of great change. Your great great grandparents experienced it during the Industrial Revolution. Imagine how scared they must have been.  And look what your grandparents did during World War 2. Lord knows their world was rocked.  This is our test.  This is our time to change things. There have been too many participation trophies. There have been too many Bernie Madoffs and Lance Armstrongs that have succeeded by cheating.  No longer can we succeed without working hard. Bob, it’s time to show the world that a good man CAN and WILL win. Go today and work hard. Work hard tonight. And tomorrow. Smile and make a difference in other people’s lives. You’ve made a difference in mine. Keep it up. And keep being a positive role model for that beautiful girl of yours.”

Bob straightened his back and smiled, “You’re pretty when you’re wise, Maggie. Thank you.”

Maggie grinned, “Say thank you by leaving me a big tip.”

The rising sun’s warming rays flooded the small diner and chased all the shadows away.  Bob left a $20 next to his plate and smiled at the raven-haired angel behind the counter.

“See you tomorrow, Bob.”

“If I’m lucky,” Bob cheerfully said as he walked into a new day full of opportunity.

The day before the storm:

The local TV voiceover guy opened the weather segment with a booming, “This is Eyewitness weather with meteorologist Sandy Storm sponsored by Oger Supermarkets. Oger, for the best bread and milk.”

“Good evening Southlanders. Hold on to your seat. I have big news for you. It’s a four letter word that starts with S…”

The producer whispered to the cameraman, “$#*^?” The cameraman jiggled the HD camera as he laughed.

Sandy continued with her big sleet-eatin’ grin on her face, “Yes, you guessed it — it’s going to SNOW!!!!!”

And at that moment, the whole Channel 5 viewing area exploded into panic.

Bread and milk were the first to go.  Beer and toilet paper weren’t far behind.  Crazed shoppers ran up and down the aisles of the local Oger grocery store in fear.  Kids dreamed of a snow day. Parents shook their fists at the sky.

People absolutely freaked out.

18 Hours before the storm:

Thelma Lou Franchesco pushed Wendy Winehouse trying to get a can of tuna. She hit a display of canned corn, sending it and her flying into the diaper aisle.  Tom Drysdale tripped Frank Watson so he could get to the last loaf of white bread first. Fights began to break out at the local grocery store.  “How will my baby eat?” cried one shopper as she fell to her knees crying.

“How are you coping with the chance of snow? asked Buck Strong to anyone who would pay him any attention. Buck was the longtime anchor/reporter legend at Channel 5 news who was famous for once mixing it up with a governor he caught in the same strip-club he was in.  Strong’s defense was “You can’t just find news sitting in your house. Sometimes you have to go to a strip club to find it.” Management didn’t fire him, but refused to expense the numerous lap dances.

Shoppers hustled past the legendary reporter and into the store, trying to scoop up the last jars of peanut butter and  cans of sardines. “Oh the humanity!” one portly man cried.

12 Hours before the storm:

“Do you think we’ll be snowed in for weeks?” viewers tweeted Sandy Storm.  Sandy kept her 1,000 twitter followers on top of the latest forecast and explained the latest forecast models. “Dress warm!” she replied.

Panic had hit 11 out of 1o.

10 Hours before the storm:

Bubba Franklin, the local auto mechanic, readied his four-wheel drive and chain. He’d pull the people out of the ditch.  Sure, all the Yankees could drive on snow. But not when there was an inch of ice under it.  “I’m providin’ a public service,” he told Buck Strong. “For $50.”

Sandy Storm broke in during the SEC basketball game and said, “Just to let you know, we’re under a winter storm watch.  I’ll break in to tell you the latest.” At this point, the basketball fans had already called the management at the station to complain. Sandy didn’t mind. She loved to break into prime-time programing.

Road crews busily readied trucks with salt.  Bartenders busily readied margaritas with salt, too.

The city had nearly shut down in preparation to Winter Blitz 2013 (what Eyewitness News 5 had now dubbed the storm.) Now the Mayor was ready to enact his emergency plan. (He loved to plan).

8 Hours before the storm:

The city was ready. The population was ready. Kids dreamed dreams of snow men, snow angels, snow balls, snow forts and snow whatever else you can make out of snow.  Schools had been preemptively cancelled. “We can’t risk running the buses during Winter Blitz 2013,” said the local superintendent in charge of making such lofty snow-related decisions. The grocery store manager was busy rolling around in a room full of money as he looked out as his store’s bare shelves.

Sandy Storm was on the air wall-to-wall tracking the snow as it came in on radar.

As the sun went down, people huddled in their homes ready for whatever Mother Nature could throw at them.  It was all over but the snowing. “Bring it on!” cried Sandy Storm.  Buck Strong had hunkered down at the local strip club.

And just as predicted, the first flakes fell. They were big, fluffy flakes. They quickly covered elevated surfaces and then dusted the grass. Roads got slushy and the surrounding countryside began to look like a Thomas Kincade painting. It was truly a Southern winter wonderland.

Kids woke up to the beauty  of the freshly fallen snow and quickly put on their winter clothes. Winter Blitz 2013 had hit. Sandy Storm broke into the morning show to update her viewers one more time.

And then it happened.

The sun peeked over the oaks and the pines and began illuminate the fresh blanket of snow.

Within 10 minutes it was slush. By 9 a.m. all the snow was completely gone.

Winter Blitz 2013 had ended nearly as quickly as it had begun. It was yet another exciting Southern snowstorm. And all the people had to show for it were kids at home and a whole bunch of milk and bread.