Dreams of a Better World

Sometimes we overthink solutions to urban problems, at least I believe so. I may be feeling that way because I just recently visited one of my favorite mayors in one of my favorite towns. I’m referring, of course to Mayor Furlough Thompson of the remarkable community of Pot Luck, Arkansas.

I reported fully on the visit for my monthly urban planning column. I won’t repeat the whole thing as that would spoil the surprise for the thousands of eager fans awaiting my next example of printed wisdom.

Would you believe the dozen or so Arkansans who still keep parakeets?

Anyway, Mayor Furlough enlightened me with several bits of administrative wisdom. Oh, you asked about his name. Let him explain.

“I was born in 1943,” he says, “while Daddy was over in Europe with the Big Red One.” He stops. “It’s an Infantry Division, son … the First Infantry Division … get that silly smirk off your face. Anyhow, I was born and Momma was still groggy when the Doc asked her what to call it and she thought he asked what caused it.”

“Furlough?”

“Ever since."

He calls himself the “best mayor in America.” That’s a hard claim to prove, but nobody has challenged him on it so far. He’s turned down offers for bypasses, roundabouts, and branding.

Of the first two, he says that they want traffic to come through Downtown kinda slow so the drivers and riders can check out the local businesses. "I think cities spend way too much money helping the automobile," he says. "We like to spend our money on people, not cars."

 About the latter? “We brand cattle around here, not our city.”

He explained further. “We had this feller come down from Little Rock wanting to sell us some slogan or such nonsense, something about ‘Small in size but great in dreams’ if you can believe that.”

“And?”

“I told him we was totally satisfied with what we have and we had just paid to have it painted on buildings on both ways coming into town.”

“The one I just saw? ‘Welcome to Potluck, but mind your own business?’”

“Yeah. Works fine for us. He stopped to send tobacco juice flying with the wind. “Branding,” he said, “have you ever heard such nonsense?”

“Well,” I said, “there was an actual article in our national planning magazine, the one for educated, sensible professionals. The article called for using feng shui to plan our cities. They actually printed it.”

“Fung what?” he says. “Son be careful, we have children in this town.” We changed the subject and he told me about a novel administrative technique he used to protect the health, safety, welfare, and morals of the citizens of Pot Luck.

“I’ve named it The Shaming Squad,” he told me.

 “The what?”

“The Shaming Squad. It’s a special group of women that helps me out.”

“What kind of special group?”

“You have to be a grandmother, auntie, retired school teacher, Sunday School teacher, librarian, or retiree from the health clinic to belong.”

“And they help you?”

“Oh hell, uh, heck yes.” He looked around, and said with a sheepish grin forming, “I’d better be careful myself. Don’t want them ladies on my case.”

“Are they effective?”

“Son,” he said, “Have you seen a boy wearing a baseball cap or a man wearing a cowboy hat while sitting down to eat in Pot Luck?”

“Uh, no.”

“Heard any tires squealing or seen vehicles exceeding the posted limits?”

"No."

“Seen anyone walking around with a stupid pistol strapped to their hip?”

“No.”

“Seen MAGA signs in anybody’s yard, implying our city is not already great?”

“No.”

“Seen any cheap metal buildings on Main Street? Seen any stores on Main Street with their front doors locked? Seen any tattoos that weren’t earned by military service, any droopy pants or backsass from our kids, any road rage, any overgrown yards, anyone falsely claiming to be a homeless veteran begging for money, any sort of rude behavior among our adults?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Well thank the Shaming Squad.”

“Really?”

“Really. Without them we might have to have a full-time police department.”

I couldn’t help wondering if he might hire them out to service our White House. Oh, and I quit reading our national planning magazine after the feng shui article.

I'll stick with Mayor Furlough.

Strategic planning in Pot Luck