Two Sides Try Something Instead Of Arguing

🎤 Audio Overview

🎤 Song For This Story

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Act I – The Argument That Would Not Move

The front porch of the Sequatchie Crossing Town Hall had long ago stopped being a place where anything began and had settled comfortably into being a place where nothing ended.

Sheriff Peeler leaned against the railing, hat tilted back, watching two men argue over a problem neither of them had touched.

“You ain’t gonna fix it by standin’ there,” said Ricky Travis “RT” Mullins, pointing vaguely toward the side lot behind the building.

“I ain’t gonna fix it because it ain’t mine to fix,” replied Brett Crenshaw, arms crossed, feet planted in a posture that suggested he’d been planted there for years.

“It’s everybody’s problem,” RT shot back.

“That’s exactly why nobody’s fixin’ it,” Brett said.

Behind them, the problem sat quietly. A narrow walkway between Town Hall and the old records shed had been overtaken by weeds, fallen boards, and something that used to be a wheelbarrow but now functioned more as a suggestion.

Tiffany Annette Roark stood near the door, arms folded in a more elegant version of Brett’s stance. “We’ve discussed this three meetings in a row.”

“And voted twice,” Shelley Fawn Wexler added, flipping through a clipboard. “Once to study it, and once to reconsider studying it.”

“That’s progress,” Mister Wade Langston said.

“No it ain’t,” Maggie Sue Dillard said flatly. “That’s motion without movement.”

Clovis Strickland stood slightly off to the side, hands in his pockets, watching the whole thing like a man who’d seen weather patterns behave the same way.

“Y’all ever notice,” Clovis said quietly, “that path don’t get worse when folks stop talkin’ about it?”

Nobody answered.

“Because it’s already as bad as it’s gonna get,” he added.

Sheriff Peeler exhaled slowly. “We’re not assignin’ blame today.”

“Good,” said Brett.

“Because we’d still be here tomorrow,” RT muttered.

From inside Town Hall, Mabel Dean Ashcroft opened the door just enough to look out. She surveyed the group, the path, and the posture of every person present.

She said nothing.

Then she closed the door.

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Act II – The Problem Gets Named Again

Later that morning, the argument migrated—like all unresolved matters in Sequatchie Crossing—to the diner.

At a corner booth, RT and Brett continued, now with coffee.

“You remember when that path was clear?” RT asked.

“No,” Brett said.

“Exactly,” RT replied, as though that proved something.

Across the room, Lurleen Davenport leaned over the counter. “It ain’t about rememberin’. It’s about decidin’.”

“Decidin’ what?” Evelyn Grace Tipton asked.

“That somebody’s gonna do somethin’,” Lurleen said.

“Well, who?” Evelyn asked.

“That’s where it falls apart,” Lurleen replied.

At another table, Santiago “Sonny” Morales shook his head. “In my old neighborhood, if something was broke, somebody fixed it.”

“Yeah,” said Doug “Doughboy” Teeter, “but then folks’d argue about how you fixed it.”

“Sure,” Sonny said. “But it’d still be fixed.”

Coach Freddie Stubblefield tapped his spoon against his mug. “We’re treatin’ a chore like it’s a policy.”

“That’s because nobody wants to own it,” Shelley said.

“And nobody wants to be told they did it wrong,” Tiffany added.

RT leaned forward toward Brett. “Look, I ain’t sayin’ you caused it.”

Brett nodded cautiously. “Good.”

“I’m sayin’ you ain’t helpin’ it,” RT finished.

“That’s because helpin’ it makes it mine,” Brett said.

“And not helpin’ it keeps it ours,” RT said.

They both paused.

At the counter, Mabel sat with a biscuit and did not intervene.

Clovis, at the far end, stirred his coffee and watched the silence land.

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Act III – The First Small Move

It happened without announcement.

Late afternoon.

The heat had settled into the kind of stillness that made decisions feel heavier than usual.

RT walked behind Town Hall carrying a pair of gloves.

Brett was already there.

They stood on opposite ends of the blocked path.

Neither spoke at first.

RT picked up a loose board and tossed it aside.

Brett watched.

Then Brett bent down and pulled a clump of weeds.

RT glanced up.

Brett shrugged. “Didn’t say I wasn’t gonna touch it.”

RT nodded. “Didn’t say I needed you to.”

They worked in silence for several minutes.

Not efficiently. Not with a plan.

Just enough to make the space look slightly less impossible.

Clovis appeared at the corner, leaned against the wall, and observed.

“Well,” Clovis said softly, “that’s somethin’.”

Neither man responded.

From the porch, Sheriff Peeler noticed.

He didn’t step in.

He didn’t call it out.

He just adjusted his stance slightly to get a better view.

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Act IV – The Work That Didn’t Ask Permission

By the time Boot Barnes arrived, the path looked like it had been considered.

“What in the world,” Boot said, setting his hat back on his head, “is this?”

RT wiped his hands. “We’re clearin’ it.”

“Together?” Boot asked.

“Don’t make it bigger than it is,” Brett said.

Boot looked at the path.

Then at the pile of debris.

Then back at the two men.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said.

Without asking, Boot grabbed the broken wheelbarrow and began hauling pieces to the side.

“You ain’t even part of this,” Brett said.

“I am now,” Boot replied.

From across the yard, Officer Kenny Joe Teeter slowed his patrol car.

“What’s goin’ on here?” he called.

“Not much,” RT said.

“Looks like somethin’,” Kenny Joe replied.

“Just a little bit,” Brett said.

Kenny Joe parked and stepped out.

“You got a plan?” he asked.

“No,” Boot said.

“Good,” Kenny Joe replied, rolling up his sleeves. “Those always take longer.”

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Act V – The Watching Crowd That Didn’t Interrupt

By early evening, the work had drawn attention.

Not interruption.

Just attention.

Shelley and Tiffany stood at the edge of the lot, arms folded—not in resistance, but in curiosity.

“They didn’t vote on this,” Shelley said.

“They didn’t need to,” Tiffany replied.

Maggie Sue arrived with a jug of water. “Figured y’all might need this.”

RT took it. “We didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t wait,” Maggie Sue said.

Nearby, Sonny leaned against a fence post.

“This is how it starts,” he said.

“How what starts?” Doug asked.

“People doin’ somethin’,” Sonny said.

Mister Wade Langston nodded slowly. “Without askin’ who’s responsible.”

“Exactly,” Sonny said.

Clovis remained where he’d been since the beginning.

Watching.

“Funny thing,” Clovis said quietly to nobody in particular. “They ain’t agreed on nothin’.”

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Act VI – The Quiet Approval

At dusk, Mabel returned.

She stood at the edge of the newly clearing path.

Boards had been stacked.

Weeds had been pulled.

The ground—visible again—looked like it remembered being a walkway.

She looked at RT.

Then Brett.

Then Boot.

Then the others.

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

No words.

No praise.

No correction.

Just acknowledgment.

“Guess that’s approval,” Boot said.

“She didn’t stop us,” Brett said.

“That’s as good as it gets,” RT added.

Inside Town Hall, Pastor Arnold Peeler stepped out onto the porch.

He looked at the work.

Then at the people.

He bowed his head slightly.

“Lord,” he said quietly, “thank You for hands that move before minds argue.”

He lifted his head.

And said nothing else.

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Act VII – The Space That Changed the Town

By morning, the path was clear.

Not perfect.

But usable.

That was new.

Sheriff Peeler walked through it slowly.

Didn’t say a word.

Just walked.

Then walked back.

“Fits,” he said finally.

Coach Stubblefield brought a rake and smoothed the dirt.

“Now it looks like it belongs here,” he said.

Shelley made a note on her clipboard.

“What are you writing?” Tiffany asked.

“‘Completed without formal process,’” Shelley replied.

“Is that allowed?” Tiffany asked.

Shelley paused.

Then wrote anyway.

Across the lot, Lurleen and Evelyn stood together.

“Well I’ll be,” Evelyn said.

“It didn’t take a meeting,” Lurleen replied.

“It didn’t take a vote,” Evelyn added.

“It took two people startin’,” Lurleen said.

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Act VIII – The Dog That Walked Through It

Daisy the hound arrived mid-morning.

No leash.

No direction.

Just Daisy.

She trotted across the yard, paused at the entrance of the newly cleared path, and looked down it like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

“Well go on,” Boot said.

Daisy did.

She walked straight through.

No hesitation.

No confusion.

No memory of what it used to be.

Just a path.

Clovis watched her pass.

“Dog don’t care who fixed it,” he said.

“No,” Sonny replied.

“Dog just uses it,” Clovis added.

Daisy reached the other side, circled once, and lay down in the shade.

Satisfied.

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Act IX – The Argument That Didn’t Return

Back on the Town Hall porch, the usual group gathered.

But something was off.

“What are we discussin’ today?” Tiffany asked.

Shelley checked her clipboard.

“There was an item about the side path,” she said.

RT looked at Brett.

Brett looked at RT.

“It’s handled,” RT said.

Shelley blinked. “So… we remove it from the agenda?”

“Guess so,” Brett said.

Mister Wade Langston nodded. “That’s efficient.”

“No it ain’t,” Maggie Sue said. “That’s rare.”

Clovis leaned back against the railing.

“Well,” he said, “looks like the argument moved on.”

“To where?” Kenny Joe asked.

Clovis shrugged. “Somewhere there ain’t a path yet.”

Sheriff Peeler tipped his hat. “Then we’ll know what to do.”

Nobody argued.

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Epilogue – The Pattern That Might Repeat

Days later, another small problem appeared.

A loose fence near the church.

Nothing major.

Nothing urgent.

But noticeable.

RT walked by it.

Then kept walking.

Then stopped.

Turned around.

Brett was already there.

They looked at each other.

Didn’t say anything.

Boot wasn’t far behind.

Clovis took his usual spot.

And somewhere in the distance, Daisy stood up.

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Disclaimer

No official resolution was filed regarding the clearing of the Town Hall side path. No committee formally approved the action, no budget was allocated, and no responsibility was assigned.

Any perception that cooperation led to immediate and noticeable improvement is considered anecdotal and not reflective of standard operating procedure.

Residents are reminded that future problems should be discussed thoroughly before being addressed, unless otherwise handled without discussion.

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