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February 2007
HOW THE FISH STOLE CHRISTMAS
By: Larry Duffy
Creative Director
We all know New Town is the type of community where people are out and about all the time. This constant activity has great appeal to many living here. Whether it be at Marsala’s, The Prancing Pony or on a bench in the park, the opportunity to strike up a conversation with a neighbor is literally around every corner. The fact that everyone in town is considered a neighbor and not just those who live next door is one of the many facets of New Town living that make it unique. Quite often during conversations between newly acquainted individuals the subject of employment will come up. “So what do you do for a living?” is generally how the question is phrased. Occasionally that question has been asked of me. It’s never been a topic of discussion that’s excited me much. Peoples lives are so layered that how one makes a living seems a pretty inadequate way of defining a person.
Still the question is asked and so I tend to vaguely shrug and reply that it’s kind of hard to explain. In the last year or so as a Whittaker employee working in New Town I’ve discovered that there is a whole host of people doing any number of things at a moments notice to help make New Town a dynamic place to live. From the craftsman in the field to every worker in Whittaker’s new office, these employees can be proud of the fact that they are doing so much more than building houses. There is an extraordinary group of people here in New Town working tirelessly to make sure every event is a success; Lisa, Richard, Kurt and Lynn. Jimmy, Fred, Dennis and his crew have all juggled numerous, crazy tasks and have done so with a sort of flexible aplomb that is noteworthy.
After much self reflection, I think I can finally define what it is I do for a living. I’ve been a picture taker and movie maker, bratwurst boiler and tipi toiler, a prose hacker and a hay stacker and that ain’t all. I’ve been a shelf stocker and a road blocker, a float builder and a cow gilder, a beer hawker and a tight rope stalker, and if that wasn’t enough, add tree sinker to my regal list of titles.
That’s right, our beautiful New Town Christmas tree, a sixteen foot Wisconsin Balsam now sleeps with the fishes. Or at least that’s the hope. As any angler can tell you, fish like cover. The serious fisherman calls it structure. A healthy lake, just like a healthy community provides cool places for its inhabitants to hang out. Think of our recycled Christmas tree as a sort of Prancing Pony for bass.
Sinking a Christmas tree sounds like a fairly uncomplicated task but things aren’t always as they seem. The preparations were intense. Would a sixteen foot tall tree disappear into a twenty foot deep lake? The calculations were checked and double checked. The answer was yes and apparently with room to spare. Next we had to determine how much weight would be required to sink a tree of that size with a large wooden base still attached. After much deliberation we had our answer. Lots and lots of weight would be necessary. So with my dead weight in tow, the crack team of Dennis and Dave went about the task of sending Der Tannenbaum to Davy Jones locker.
In all seriousness, Dennis and Dave are two of the go to guys in New Town that get the job done. In addition to their real jobs of actually building New Town, they are often called on for some very odd assignments. From constructing a last minute obelisk for our Fourth of July float to setting the stage for many New Town events, these guys have done it all.
So the right men were on the job when it came time to deep six this yuletide conifer. The tree was hastily stripped of all ornamentation and unceremoniously plucked from its manhole base by Dave and his 85’ boom lift. It was a sad, strange sight indeed as our tree slipped the surly bonds of earth to begin its journey to a watery grave. A solemn rain began to fall as the nevermore evergreen proceeded slowly down the lane, finally reaching the point of departure. It was lowered to the ground where cinder blocks were diligently lashed to the massive trunk. The time had come. When the lift could finally extend no further, there was nothing left to do but cut the rope. There was no dramatic splash to mark the moment. Instead our plank walking pine entered gently and steadily submerged until….. “What the?”, “It stopped!” It stopped with three feet of tree still extending above the surface. It stopped and became a mocking miniature version of itself perched festively on the water.
And so began the battle of the branches. The thrilla by the villa. The mistake at the lake. More deliberations and many hours later the task was ultimately accomplished. But what an epic engagement this was. This acrimonious arbor was prodded and poked, lassoed and retrieved, balled and chained, severed and strapped until finally the matter was settled the old fashioned way. Like a Neanderthal, I scoured the shoreline muddied and bloodied, picking up boulders large enough to cast down upon this ghost of Christmas past, until all remnants of its foul boughs disappeared forever.
For all those who like to fish the lakes and canals of New Town, give a thank you to Dave and Dennis when you land that lunker bass. Due to their efforts above and beyond the call of duty, the fish of New Town now have a new hangout. Just another day on the job in our always interesting New Town.
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