Mack
Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
What Evil Lurks in
the Mayor’s Refrigerator?
In
the Village of Charlo in New Brunswick, the local government is arguing as to
whether or not the city council may keep their beer stash in the mayor’s office
refrigerator.
New
Brunswick, as you will recall from third-grade geography, is a Canadian
province that borders Finland and Ulan-Bator, and is famous for Mounties riding
in sleighs drawn by reindeer while chasing polar bears.
In
merry Charlo, according to the CBC, the councilors are accustomed to meeting in
the mayor’s office to bend an elbow and continue discussing village business
after concluding the official council meeting.
In
the USA we used to called folks elected to a city council councilmen, and now
city councilmen can still be councilmen unless they are councilwomen and
sometimes councilpersons. Councilor is
shorter and neater.
The
leader of any meeting back in Ye Olden Times used to be called a chairman, but the
position was shortened to chair.
Visitors on the agenda are allowed to address the chair, which could be
awkward if no one is actually sitting in the chair. If the mayor has stepped out for a moment
perhaps the speaker may address some other object: “Thank you, Madame Table, for
allowing me to speak today,” or maybe “Mr. Ashtray, I wish to urge this
committee to consider…”
Anyway,
the mayor of Charlo, Jason Carter, thought that councilors shouldn’t be
discussing village business while treating the mayor’s office refrigerator as
the local franchise of the Long Branch Saloon.
Mayor
Carter told the councilors to stop it.
They didn’t.
He
then removed the wine, coolers, and whatever 40-ouncers are from his office refrigerator; the councilors
told him to put the booze back, and he did.
Councilor
Roger LeClaire said that he and his fellow councilors “sometimes have a drink
after public meetings, but only on special occasions.” Like, maybe, days ending in “y?”
Mayor
Carter, shocked, shocked that there was drinking going on in council, tendered
his resignation, which the council joyfully accepted, not with “Aye!” but with “I’ll
drink to that!”
Charlo seems, from the information available
on the ‘net (and the ‘net is always accurate, right?), to be a pleasant little
town of about 1300 folks on a bay off the St. Lawrence. Its first Euro types, in 1799, were Cajuns,
and French remains the dominant language.
The area features a nice little airport, commercial and sport fishing,
tourism, forestry, agriculture, skiing, hiking, and numerous motels, B & Bs,
and restaurants, and suffers almost no crime.
In the summers the highs are in the 70s; just now Charlo is an
invigorating 24 or so.
In 1943, flower-class corvette HMCS Rimouski chased away German sub U-236,
which had been lurking in the bay off Charlo in a blocked attempt to take on
board escaped German prisoners-of-war.
The Rimouski was long ago
turned into beer cans and fenders, but you can visit her sister ship, HMCS Sackville, in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
Charlo, New Brunswick sounds like a great
place to relax for a week or so, not only for the many attractions for both the
active and the sedentary visitor, but because the worst political squabble they
have had in recent memory is about what might be chillin’ in the mayor’s office
refrigerator.
-30-
No comments:
Post a Comment