Example Replaces Instruction As Primary Driver Of Change
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
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Leader Fixes Small Thing, Others Quietly Follow
Leader Fixes Small Thing, Others Quietly Follow
ACT I – The Crooked Bench at Town Hall
Nobody could remember exactly when the bench outside Sequatchie Crossing Town Hall had started leaning.
Like most things in town, it had happened gradually enough to become permanent.
The bench sat beneath a sycamore tree beside the front steps. One leg had sunk into the dirt years earlier. Visitors sat down expecting a peaceful rest and instead experienced what locals referred to as “a controlled slide.
The matter had been discussed repeatedly.
Not fixing it, mind you.
Just discussing it.
On a bright Tuesday morning, Clovis Strickland stood across the street studying the bench through binoculars.
“She’s listing port side,” he announced.
Officer Kenny Joe Teeter looked up from his patrol car.
“It’s a bench, Clovis.”
“That’s exactly what they want you to think.”
“What does that even mean?”
Clovis lowered the binoculars.
“Patterns start small.”
At that moment Eugene “Boot” Barnes appeared carrying a shovel over one shoulder and a sack of gravel under the other.
Nobody paid much attention.
Boot was always carrying something.
Act I – The Crooked Bench at Town Hall
He crossed the street, knelt beside the bench, dug around the sunken leg, packed gravel underneath, tamped it down, and stood.
The entire operation took maybe six minutes.
Then he walked away.
No speech.
No announcement.
No committee.
No Facebook post.
No ceremonial ribbon cutting.
Just six minutes.
Officer Teeter blinked.
“Well.”
Well what?” asked Clovis.
“He fixed it.”
“Without authorization.”
“Without discussion.”
Clovis narrowed his eyes.
“That’s unusual.”
Across town at the diner, Mabel Dean Ashcroft was stirring her coffee when Maggie Sue Dillard entered.
“You seen the bench?” Maggie asked.
“The leaning one?”
“Not anymore.”
Mabel smiled over her mug.
“Oh.”
“You knew?”
“I saw Boot carrying gravel.”
“And?”
Mabel took a slow sip.
Then I assumed the problem was about to stop existing.”
Maggie stared.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Outside, Daisy the hound wandered past Town Hall.
She paused.
Examined the now-level bench.
Circled it twice.
Then calmly lay down beside it.
Three other dogs drifting through town soon settled nearby.
No barking.
No meetings.
Just following.
Mabel watched through the diner window.
“See there?”
“What?”
“Dogs understand leadership better than people.”
Act I – The Crooked Bench at Town Hall
ACT II – A Curious Pattern
The following morning Clovis returned with his binoculars.
The bench remained level.
This disturbed him.
Not because it was fixed.
Because nobody was talking about it.
He found Sheriff Peeler drinking coffee on the courthouse porch.
“Something’s happening.”
Sheriff Peeler sighed.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious.”
“What happened?”
“The bench.”
“The bench got fixed.”
“Exactly.”
Sheriff Peeler waited.
Clovis continued.
And nobody formed a task force.”
“You upset about that?”
“I don’t know.”
Act II – A Curious Pattern
At the diner, Shelley Fawn Wexler sat typing on her laptop.
As editor of the Sequatchie Crossing Dispatch, she normally documented every minor municipal controversy.
Today she found herself staring at a blank page.
What are you writing?” asked Tiffany Annette Roark.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“That’s the story.”
Tiffany frowned.
“I don’t follow.”
“A thing got fixed.”
“Okay.”
“Nobody argued.”
“Okay.”
“No public outrage.”
“Okay.”
“No comments section warfare.”
Tiffany slowly nodded.
“That is unusual.”
Meanwhile, at the church fellowship hall, Pastor Arnold Peeler noticed a loose cabinet door hanging crooked in the kitchen.
He made a mental note.
The note joined approximately eighty-seven other mental notes.
Then he walked into the sanctuary.
An hour later he returned.
The cabinet was fixed.
Santiago “Sonny” Morales was putting away tools.
Pastor Peeler pointed.
“You repair that?”
Sonny shrugged.
“It was bothering me.”
“Oh.”
“Hope that’s alright.”
Pastor Peeler smiled.
“Perfectly alright.”
Sonny nodded.
Then returned to work.
No announcement.
No request for recognition.
Pastor Peeler stood there for a moment.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Act II – A Curious Pattern
ACT III – The Porch Observers
That evening several town regulars gathered on Mister Wade Langston’s porch.
The porch functioned as an unofficial observation deck for local behavior.
Mister Wade sat in a rocking chair.
Lurleen Davenport shelled peas.
Evelyn Grace Tipton knitted.
Clovis paced.
“I’m documenting a trend.”
“Of what?” asked Evelyn.
“Spontaneous competence.”
The porch became quiet.
Nobody had ever heard those words used together.
Lurleen looked up.
“Examples?”
“The bench.”
“Okay.”
“The church cabinet.”
“Alright.”
The broken newspaper box outside Chester Ray’s print shop.”
Everyone turned.
That got fixed too?” asked Wade.
“It did.”
Act III – The Porch Observers
“Who fixed it?”
“No idea.”
Wade chuckled.
“Maybe folks finally got tired of waiting.”
Across town, Chester Ray Blevins locked his print shop.
He noticed the newspaper box opening smoothly.
For months it had jammed.
Now it didn’t.
He never learned who repaired it.
But he appreciated it.
At the diner later, Ricky Travis “RT” Mullins arrived carrying a wrench.
What happened to you?” asked Doughboy Teeter.
“Fixed the loose railing behind the post office.”
“Why?”
RT shrugged.
“Kept wobbling.”
Doughboy stared.
“You just fixed it?”
“Seemed easier.”
The table grew quiet.
Several people suddenly remembered small things needing attention.
Nobody said anything.
But they remembered.
Act III – The Porch Observers
ACT IV – Daisy Starts Something
The next morning Daisy the hound discovered an interesting shortcut.
A section of grass behind Town Hall connected several buildings more efficiently than the sidewalk network.
Daisy crossed it.
Then crossed it again.
Then again.
By lunchtime a faint path appeared.
By afternoon other dogs were using it.
The next day people began using it too.
Nobody instructed anyone.
Nobody installed signs.
Nobody conducted studies.
People simply noticed it worked.
Clovis became fascinated.
He stood observing traffic patterns.
“It’s happening again.”
Officer Teeter groaned.
“What now?”
“Daisy.”
Act IV – Daisy Starts Something
“What about Daisy?”
She’s conducting infrastructure planning.”
Sheriff Peeler appeared.
“What are we discussing?”
The dog created a pedestrian corridor.
Sheriff Peeler watched townspeople crossing the new path.
“Huh.”
“It wasn’t there last week.”
“Looks useful.”
Clovis nodded slowly.
“Exactly.”
Nearby Mabel sat on a bench watching.
She seemed unusually pleased.
Maggie Sue joined her.
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that means you’re watching people finally figure something out.”
Mabel smiled.
“You ever notice how nobody follows instructions?”
“Constantly.”
“But they follow examples.”
Maggie thought about it.
“That’s true.”
Mabel pointed toward Daisy.
“Even dogs know that.”
As if hearing her name, Daisy wagged her tail and continued walking.
Three more dogs followed.
Then several children.
Then two adults carrying groceries.
The path grew wider.
Act IV – Daisy Starts Something
ACT V – The Diner Experiment
A few days later the diner faced a small problem.
One of the condiment stations had become messy.
Nobody claimed responsibility.
Everybody complained.
Boot arrived early for breakfast.
Without a word he wiped the station clean.
Organized the napkins.
Refilled ketchup.
Straightened salt shakers.
Then sat down and ordered eggs.
Twenty minutes later another customer cleaned a nearby table before leaving.
Then someone else pushed in their chair.
Then another wiped a counter.
Trixie Jo Bartlett watched from behind the register.
“What is going on?”
Shelley Fawn looked up from her laptop.
“I think people are copying what they see.”
Act V – The Diner Experiment
Trixie pointed.
“They’ve been eating here for years.”
“Yes.”
“And suddenly they’re cleaning up after themselves.”
“Apparently.”
Trixie folded her arms.
“That’s suspicious.”
At the next table, Coach Freddie Stubblefield laughed.
“Maybe folks just needed permission.”
“Nobody gave permission.”
“Exactly.”
That afternoon Clovis entered carrying a notebook.
He had begun cataloging incidents.
Pages were filling rapidly.
“You’ve got statistics?” Shelley asked.
“I’ve got observations.”
“Worse.”
“It started with the bench.”
Shelley nodded.
“I know.”
“And now look.”
Around the diner people quietly handled little tasks before someone else had to.
No speeches.
No campaigns.
No incentives.
Just examples.
Pattern confirmed.
Act V – The Diner Experiment
ACT VI – The Meeting That Barely Happened
Town Hall eventually scheduled a meeting to discuss maintenance concerns.
The agenda contained twelve items.
By meeting time only four remained.
The others had somehow been addressed already.
Mayoral committees were not required.
Subcommittees were denied their natural habitat.
The room felt strangely empty.
Mabel attended.
Clovis attended.
Pastor Peeler attended.
So did Sonny, RT, Tiffany, Shelley, Wade, Lurleen, Evelyn, Coach Freddie, Doughboy, Chester Ray, Brett and Alyssa Crenshaw, and several others.
The chairperson looked confused.
“Item One. Loose handrail.”
“Fixed,” said RT.
“Item Two. Church kitchen cabinet.”
“Fixed,” said Sonny.
“Item Three. Newspaper box.”
“Fixed,” said Chester Ray.
Act VI – The Meeting That Barely Happened
The chairperson flipped pages.
“Item Four. Pathway concern.”
Everyone looked toward Daisy sleeping under a chair.
Sheriff Peeler scratched his chin.
“I don’t think that’s a concern.”
“Why not?”
“People like it.”
The room nodded.
Mabel smiled.
The chairperson sighed.
“We appear to be running out of problems.”
Nobody knew how to respond to that.
Sequatchie Crossing had never prepared for such a scenario.
Pastor Peeler finally cleared his throat.
“Perhaps people are seeing things that need doing and doing them.”
Silence followed.
Then several heads nodded.
Brief acknowledgment.
Nothing more.
No sermon.
No lecture.
Just a simple observation.
The meeting adjourned twenty-seven minutes early.
A local record.
Act VI – The Meeting That Barely Happened
ACT VII – Clovis Investigates Leadership
Clovis refused to accept simple explanations.
Therefore he launched an investigation.
His first suspect was Mabel.
He found her on her porch watering flowers.
“You orchestrated this.”
“I did not.”
“You encouraged people.”
“No.”
“You inspired them.”
Mabel laughed.
“I made muffins.”
“That’s suspicious too.”
Clovis sat down.
“Then explain it.”
Mabel considered.
“You ever watch geese?”
“What do geese have to do with anything?”
“The first one lifts off.”
“Alright.”
“The others follow.”
Act VII – Clovis Investigates Leadership
“That’s instinct.”
“So is leadership.”
Clovis frowned.
“I don’t like answers involving birds.”
Later he questioned Boot.
Boot was repairing a gate.
“Did you start this?”
“No.”
“You fixed the bench.”
“Needed fixing.”
Then everyone started fixing things.
Boot shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
Boot tightened a bolt.
“Maybe folks got tired of waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Somebody else.”
Clovis stared.
The answer irritated him because it made sense.
Across the road Daisy wandered through an open gate.
Three dogs followed.
Then a fourth.
Then a fifth.
Boot pointed.
“There’s your story.”
Act VII – Clovis Investigates Leadership
ACT VIII – The Quiet Shift
Weeks passed.
The changes remained subtle.
Yet impossible to ignore.
Flower beds appeared.
Broken signs straightened.
Litter vanished.
Small repairs happened.
Porches looked better.
Fences stood straighter.
People helped without announcing it.
Most remarkably, they stopped announcing that they planned to help.
Shelley Fawn attempted to write an article.
She struggled.
Conflict usually fueled stories.
This situation lacked conflict.
At the diner she interviewed Alyssa Crenshaw.
“What changed?”
Alyssa thought.
“I saw somebody doing something useful.”
Act VIII – The Quiet Shift
“Then?”
“I did something useful.”
Shelley turned to Brett.
“And you?”
“Same.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“Pretty much.”
Nearby Evelyn Grace Tipton laughed.
“Young people always want complicated reasons.”
“What’s the simple reason?” Shelley asked.
Evelyn set down her tea.
“People are herd animals.”
Everyone nodded.
Even Clovis.
Reluctantly.
At the sheriff’s office, Officer Teeter noticed a stack of forms needing filing.
Usually he postponed paperwork.
Today he filed them.
Sheriff Peeler walked past.
“Look at that.”
“What?”
“Paperwork.”
Officer Teeter shrugged.
“Figured I’d get it done.”
The sheriff smiled.
“Good idea.”
No speech.
No award.
No motivational poster.
Just work completed.
Act VIII – The Quiet Shift
ACT IX – The Thing Nobody Discussed
By late autumn the town looked noticeably different.
Not transformed.
Just cared for.
The difference mattered.
One Saturday morning nearly everyone crossed paths near Town Hall.
Boot was repairing a fence section.
Sonny unloaded supplies.
RT adjusted a sign.
Maggie watered flowers.
Trixie delivered coffee.
Chester Ray carried printed notices.
Coach Freddie painted a railing.
Doughboy swept sidewalks.
Brett and Alyssa planted shrubs.
Shelley took photographs.
Officer Teeter directed traffic around absolutely nothing.
Act IX – The Thing Nobody Discussed
Clovis observed everything.
Mabel sat nearby.
Daisy rested beside the famous bench.
Pastor Peeler arrived carrying hymn books.
Sheriff Peeler stepped onto the porch.
For a moment he surveyed the scene.
Nobody had been assigned.
Nobody had been instructed.
Nobody was seeking credit.
The work simply happened.
Clovis finally approached Mabel.
“Alright.”
“Alright what?”
“I think I understand.”
Mabel smiled.
“That’s dangerous.”
“The bench wasn’t the important part.”
“No.”
“The repairs weren’t the important part.”
“No.”
“The example was.”
Mabel nodded.
“There you go.”
Across the square Daisy stood and began walking toward the church.
Without hesitation three dogs followed.
Then two children.
Then several adults carrying supplies.
The movement spread naturally.
Like water finding a path.
Like geese lifting into the air.
Like one person fixing a crooked bench.
Pastor Peeler paused near Boot.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.”
Boot glanced around.
“So has everybody else.”
Pastor Peeler smiled.
“Funny how that works.”
“Not really.”
“No?”
Boot drove a final nail.
“Nope.”
Nearby Sheriff Peeler overheard.
“What do you call it then?”
Boot stood and brushed dust from his hands.
“Just somebody going first.”
Nobody argued.
Because there wasn’t much to argue with.
Act IX – The Thing Nobody Discussed
EPILOGUE – The Level Bench
Winter arrived.
The bench outside Town Hall remained level.
Visitors sat on it without sliding sideways.
Most never knew it had once leaned.
The path behind Town Hall became permanent.
People called it Daisy’s Trail.
The name stuck because nobody bothered inventing a better one.
Small improvements continued.
Not constantly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The remarkable thing wasn’t that problems disappeared.
Problems never disappear.
The remarkable thing was how often somebody quietly handled them before they became meetings.
One afternoon Clovis sat beside Mabel on the bench.
“You know what bothers me?”
“Everything.”
“Fair.”
Mabel laughed.
“But specifically?”
“No one remembers who fixed most of these things.”
Mabel looked across the square.
Boot was working on something.
As usual.
Epilogue – The Level Bench
“So?”
Clovis frowned.
“Shouldn’t they?”
Mabel shook her head.
“That’s the whole point.”
Across the street Daisy started walking.
Other dogs followed.
The pattern continued.
Simple.
Unannounced.
Completely understood by dogs and occasionally by people.
The bench remained level.
The town kept moving.
And somewhere between the two, Sequatchie Crossing learned that leadership wasn’t standing in front of a crowd explaining what ought to happen.
It was quietly doing one small thing and letting everybody else decide for themselves.
Epilogue – The Level Bench
DISCLAIMER
The events depicted in this story are entirely fictional and take place in the fictional community of Sequatchie Crossing. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, governments, benches, dogs, committees, maintenance schedules, gravel operations, pedestrian corridors, condiment stations, newspaper boxes, or suspicious outbreaks of spontaneous competence is purely coincidental.
No real residents were portrayed in this story. All characters are fictional recurring members of the Sequatchie Crossing universe.
However, if reading this story inspires someone to fix a loose railing, straighten a sign, pick up litter, repair a bench, or simply become the first person to do a needed thing without announcing it first, the author accepts no responsibility for the resulting shortage of committee meetings.
Disclaimer – Leader Fixes Small Thing, Others Quietly Follow
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Yes, this story was fictional; even the parts that weren’t true. These places? Absolutely real. Stop by, support local, and keep the Wi-Fi away from livestock:
- Elder’s Ace Hardware-Dunlap
- Marion County Veterans Memorial Park
- Bee Creek Farm
- Bledsoe Telephone Co-Op
- Jim Garren – State Farm Insurance Agent
- TN Waterfront Vacation Rental
- Jason Brown
- Sequatchie County Health Department
- Fix’nz 4 The Soul
- The Pumpkin Patch Playground
- O’Reilly Auto Parts
- Taqueria La Rancherita
- Dellview Homestead
- Austin Mitchel Jennifer
- Living Water Plumbing
- Sonic Drive-In
- Paul’s Redneck Salsa
- Bolt Farm Treehouse Tennessee
- Western Union – Walgreens
- Hillcrest Farm
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates who may want follow the news from Sequatchie Crossing.
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