Garbage Day

Although Oakville, like the rest of Garrett County, was bitterly cold, crowds of people lined the streets near the Governor's Mansion.  It was December 26th and whole families had traveled into town, some from as far as 20 miles away, to celebrate Garbage Day.  Once a year on the day after Christmas (which the English call 'Boxing Day'), the Ancient Order of Garbagemen (AOOG) donned their traditional gray overalls, jackets and stocking hats.   Once a year, the Garbagemen practiced their traditional arts.  After larding its axles and touching up its paint, an actual antique garbage truck, the only known example within 500 miles, was carefully pulled from the Garbage Museum.  A team of six chestnut mares was harnessed to the swingle-tree on the front.  At dawn, they began the ten-mile journey all the way to the Governor's Mansion. 
    Old people came out to see the truck as it rolled along, smiling and waving at the Garbagemen, riding the sideboards and backboards in their pressed uniforms.  Even the Federal Guards, picketed along the road for security, seemed to be in a good mood.  They were far from home, but were not going home anytime soon.  Oakville was at the far Western Border of United States, or the remaining strip of it that ran down the East Coast of North America.  Less than ten miles away was the border of the Central Republic of the American Plains, the CentRAPs. 
    The CentRAPs had broken with the United States less than 50 years ago.  At first, the CentRAPs were mostly occupied with warfare on their own Western borders.  It had taken the first 25 years for them to control the raiding parties from the Western Republic of the American Pacific.  Some of the chaos was solved by absorbing a few of the WRAP states into CentRAP.  Ten years ago, word reached Washington that the CentRAPs were making overtures to the triangle of Western Maryland.   A permanent garrison of Feds was their answer.  While it was true that the garrison brought some Fed money into the local economy, it had also increased taxes, and made taxation more difficult to ignore.  There was peace for now and even some cross-border trade with the CentRAPs, but the Feds saw to it that the peace was uneasy.
    The Feds had set up sawhorses along the route, beyond which the crowds could not come.  For the most part, they kept a respectable distance behind the sawhorses. Feds were not known for tolerance or mercy, holiday or not.  Touching a Fed barrier was punishable by death. 
    For this reason, it was unusual to see two unaccompanied boys at the front of the crowd, just a bit too close to the sawhorses.  For now, the Feds took no notice of them.
    The younger one, a boy of six, watched the older boy pretend to suck air through the stick between his fingers.  His breath made a languid cloud of pretend smoke in the Winter air.  Tapping imaginary ashes from the end of his stick cigar, he regarded the younger boy with all the sophistication an 8-year-old can muster. 
    “Who are you?” he asked.
    “My name is Joey.  I'm 6 years old.  What 'cha doing?”
    “Just havin' a smoke while I wait for the Garbagemen.”  He blew another cloud of smoky breath for effect, and added, “I've been to Garbage Day two times already.  I know all about it.”
    Joey's eyes widened with respect. 
    “You can call me Wunder” said the older boy and put out a hand.  Joey shook it, and they continued to look over the sawhorse together.
    Everyone knew about the Garbagemen.  They were responsible for mining and sorting antiquities laid down by their forebears in olden times, up to about 100 years ago.  When they started their trade, it was said that the Dumpmines were an artificial mountain of treasures.  It was now a shallow bowl, with roofing over excavation sites to keep down the mud.  Old maps indicated that, in ancient days, the dumpmine had once been a hollow in the hills.  Signs of the original hollow were already beginning to show around its edges.
    The dump truck was an amazing sight, still mostly metal and glass after all these years.  From a distance, with bad eyesight,  one could imagine that all the wheels were real rubber.  On closer inspection, the wheels and other moving parts were skillful adaptations to the remaining metal parts of the truck.  Its axles had long been fitted out with heavy duty wooden wheels, rims with tires made of woven rope stuffed tight with bamboo fibers and grasses.  Every year, the rope work was repaired and blackened with many coats of paint.  There was a sole remaining original black rubber tire, but it had long since been moved to a glass case in the small museum at the Dumpmines. 
    The stares of the young soon turned to squeals of delight as the solemn Garbagemen, in their pressed gray overalls with spotless, matching gray stocking hats, began to throw candy into the crowd.   Wunder and Joey scrabbled on the pave stones, stuffing as much candy as they could into their jacket pockets.  As the horses and truck passed down the street, the Feds moved the barriers aside, and waved the crowds in. 
    “What's happening?” Joey asked.
    “They're gonna pick up the Governor's Garbage,” said Wunder. “Come on!”
    Wunder and Joey joined the crowd of parents and children parading after the Garbage Truck.  It stopped at the thickly painted, iron gate of the Governor's Mansion.  As mansions went, this was a small one.  It was made of brick, with slate shingles, and was really more of a large-sized house.  It had not been scrapped for brick and materials like so many of the structures of its era, because it had been built facing south.  Whether by design or accident, its dimensions, orientation, windows and construction kept the indoor temperature a balmy 50 degrees or more throughout the winter months by sunlight alone.  It had been a hospital for several decades, but when Oakville drew the attention of the Feds, it had been commandeered for the headquarters of the local branch of the Federal Government.
    The driver pulled up the horse team and stopped the truck in front of the Mansion. 
As one, the Ceremonial Garbagemen leaped from the truck.  They lined up and called out in unison, “Garbage Day!  Have you any Garbage?”
    Soon the door to the mansion opened.  It was Emily Herbert, the Governor herself!  She waved to the crowd and smiled, then called back, “Yes!  I have garbage today!”
    The crowd erupted in applause as a procession of house staff brought out the Antique Garbage Cans, shining like mirrors, towards the waiting truck.  Each can was handed over to a Garbage Man, who passed it to his brother. 
    “What's in those huge buckets?” asked Joey.
    “Those aren't buckets, they're garbage cans!” said Wunder, with the air of one who knows.  “And they're full of treasure!”
    It was true.  Each can was carefully poured into the open back of the Garbage Truck.  Scraps of cloth were mixed with dry leaves and sticks, and parcels wrapped in actual paper, crumpled here and there to make it look like the garbage of old.  All were put carefully into the truck, with much cheering. 
The cans returned to the mansion until next year, the Garbagemen saluted the Governor, and drove the Garbage Truck a bit further on, to Town Square.  There in the middle, where the weekly Market Day was usually held, the Garbagemen had cordoned off an area for the Christmas Dump.  They backed the truck carefully over to it, and (using cranks and pulleys), cranked up the dumping bed of the truck until its contents went right in the center. 
    Joey's eyes popped open in wonder.  “What happens next?” he asked.
    “Quiet, blabbermouth!”  said Wunder, with an elbow to the ribs. “If you make any noise, we won't get our share.” 
    From the oldest to the youngest, the children became quiet as the Garbagemen cranked down the dumper bed.  Complete quiet was crucial for the next part. 
    The Garbagemen stationed themselves around the edges of the Christmas Dump.  Then they began the calling ceremony, one to another. 
    “Do you see any pickers?”  All the children covered their eyes, or hid behind an adult.
    “No pickers here.” came the reply.  “Do you see any pickers?”
    “No pickers near.  Do you see any pickers?”
    “None I see or hear.  Do you see any pickers?...”
Each one called to his fellow at the next corner, round the edges of the Christmas Dump.  The children knew that if they made it around the dump twice without seeing or hearing any “pickers,” the Garbagemen would board their truck and take it back to the Dumpmines. 
    In the old days, when it was illegal to mine in the Dump, the Garbagemen guarded it against people who were looking for useful objects.  When the government stopped paying them, the Garbagemen themselves began to mine the dump.   Some people might dream of digging at the Dumpmines for free, but the AOOG took a dim view of pickers, and punishments were severe.  This was the root of the Christmas Dump ceremony.  Once a year, if they were quiet and well-behaved, children were allowed to be pickers for a day.
    The garbagemen continued to call, one to the other.  They had called around the Christmas Dump once. 
    “Can I talk yet?” whispered Joey.
    “Shh!” Wunder hissed.  “Wait for it..”
    But a Garbageman had heard them.  “Picker right there!” he called, pointing directly at Joey.   “Garbagemen beware!”
    The Garbagemen started calling at the beginning.  Wunder made a face, and punched Joey in the arm.  Joey was going to complain about it, but angry looks from the children around him changed his mind.  They settled themselves into silent tension.
    Finally, the calling rounds were complete.  The Garbagemen returned to their truck, and began to go slowly back to the Dumpmines.  
       All the children were now allowed to look on the wondrous Christmas Dump, but could not move or make a noise until the signal was given. 
    Half a block away, one of the Garbagemen looked back at the Christmas Dump and all the eager young faces.  He smiled a little, took a deep breath, and blew on a pipe that led into the old diesel chimney on the right side of the truck.  The engine hadn't worked in years, but the pipe had been loaded with some fine gray ash.  When the Garbageman blew, it sent an ash cloud flying out of the top of the pipe.  This told the children that the Garbagemen had “started the engine” and were on their way home.  It was finally time to pick!
    “Go for it!” yelled Wunder, and he and Joey joined the yelling crowd of children as they tore into the heap of Christmas Garbage in the Square.  The cloth scraps and paper were seized, treasures that could be used at home.  The packages were quickly found and opened.  Most contained corn dolls, wood soldiers, games or other items usually given at Christmas.  A few of the gifts were rare.  There were two picture frames with the glass still in them, and one lucky girl got an antique pocket knife, the screwdriver still functional.
    “Where did it all come from?” Joey asked, as he rooted through the pile, stuffing first his pockets, and then his jacket.
    “Some of it is from the Dumpmine,” replied Wunder, “But most of it came from the Feds.”
    “Where did they get it?”  asked Joey.
    “Don't you know anything?” grumped Wunder, who was trying to load himself up like everyone else.  Joey's mouth closed, and his eyebrows went up.  He shook his head 'no,' and looked so sad that Wunder regretted his fussing.
    “He's just a kid, and someone has to tell him,” Wunder said to himself.  He sighed, and began to explain.  “A week or two before Christmas, did a stranger come to your house with an empty red bag?”
    “Yes—He was a Fed.  My mom and dad were upset.  How did you know?”
    Ignoring the question, Wunder went on.  “I bet the Fed looked all through your house, and when he left, his red bag had stuff in it.”
    Joey had stopped rooting through the piles.  He had picked up a wooden pop gun, and was looking it over, puzzlement on his face.  He began to work the pop gun, pulling back the plunger until the cork on the string had seated itself, then pushing the plunger in again.  The little gun made a satisfying 'pop' as the cork shot out, but Joey seemed more bewildered than pleased.
    “I lost a pop gun just like this one,” he told Wunder.  “Actually, I think this is my pop gun.”
    “When did you lose it?” asked Wunder.
    “About two weeks before Christmas.  It was just after...” Joey's mouth opened, and shut again. 
    “Yes Joey,” said Wunder, expressing the thought.  “The Feds run through every house in the town and country, scrounging up whatever they can find.  It also gives them an excuse to rifle through your stuff and see if you are up to something that you shouldn't be.   Your pop gun was scooped up and thrown in with the rest of the pile.  It's just dumb luck that you found it again.  Didn't they explain this to your parents?”
    “Yes, but I didn't know what they were talking about.  The Fed said it was 'Donations for the Children.'  Dad just looked grumpy, and then the Fed went all through the house.”
    “Come on!” said Wunder, “We're missing a lot of the good stuff.”
    The pile was rapidly disappearing, and Wunder led Joey to the center of it.  The Garbagemen, through long experience, had figured out how to stack the load so that the most precious gifts landed at the bottom of the Christmas Dump.  Few of the younger children knew about this, but Wunder had been a keen observer the past two years.  It was time to dig for a certain package that he had seen twice before. 
    They began to burrow into the pile.  Wunder was even tossing aside paper-wrapped packages  that might contain precious gifts. 
    “What are we looking for?” asked Joey, imitating his older friend.
    “It's a white cloth bag with a blue border, lots of black marks—There it is!”
    As soon as Wunder spoke, Joey dove for the bundle, and pulled it from the side of the hole they had excavated.  Joey raised it up for inspection. 
    “What is it, Wunder?” he asked.  Wunder smacked his forehead in defeat.
    A cry of joy and envy went up.   Joey had found the cloth bag filled with precious, real Anthracite Coal. 
    Immediately, two Feds appeared at his sides.  He was whisked away to the front of the viewing area.  All the parents were clapping and cheering.  Joey looked bewildered.  He called to Wunder, now many yards away. 
    “What does it mean?”  he yelled.  But he could not hear what Wunder said. 
    Governor Herbert had mounted a movable platform.  As Joey was escorted to it by the Feds, she began to speak through a megaphone to the assembled crowd.
    “Attention girls and boys!” she shouted in her official, artificially cheery voice.  “We have a King!  He has found the Christmas Coal that keeps all good boys and girls warm and comfy!  Bring him up here fellas,” she said, as the Feds arrived at the foot of the platform.  Once mounted, introductions were made, and the Federal Guards were dispatched to retrieve Joey's mother, father, and older brother from the crowd.
    “I now proclaim Joseph Parker King of Garbage Day!” she said, and went over the familiar rules.  Before they could leave, all the other children had to give Joey a piece of candy “for their taxes.”   If they did not give him candy, they were not allowed to keep their Garbage Day treasures.  After the ceremony for the rest of the day, all children had to call him “Your Honor--” Even his older brother!  
    The coal, of course, was quickly given to Joey's Father for safe keeping.  Under the rules of Garbage Day, it could be used in any way the family saw fit.   There was envious murmuring in the crowd.   The things they could do with a bag of Anthracite!  It could be traded on Market Day, maybe to the Apothecary, who would make it into medicine.  It could be sold to the Stationers and Printers, who would make it into expensive inks.   Joey's parents could sell it back to Governor Herbert.   No one even thought of burning it.
    Wunder heard these speculations as he picked his way to the front of the crowd.  He was pretty sure he already knew what would happen to the coal.  The previous two years, and now for a third year, the Christmas Coal had been in exactly that white bag with the blue borders, and exactly that size.  It was sewn shut all around, but you could tell there was coal in it by the smell, and by the smudges of coal dust that leaked through the closely woven cloth.  Wunder was sure that the bag of coal was going right back into the Governor's safe for another year.  Fantastically valuable and useful stuff, coal.  Too bad there wasn't more of it.
    A long time ago, it was said, a lump of coal in a stocking was a sign that the child had been bad.  This was completely crazy.  Everyone knew that there was hardly any coal left, anywhere.  Why would anyone give such an astounding gift to a bad child?
    It was also said that in days long ago, Garbagemen would go to every house in town and maybe even into the country.  They would collect garbage from everyone, and put it into the Dumpmines.  Into, and not out from.   Way back then, Garbagemen visited everybody, every single week. 
    As he drew close to the podium, Wunder heard Joey's father telling all the wonders of Garbage Day.
    “How many horses did it take to pull the truck back then?” Joey asked his Dad.
    “None at all” came the reply.  “The engine burned oil back then, and made the truck go.  All the wheels were rubber too.”
    “They actually burned oil to take all the garbage off to be buried?”  Joey was having a hard time understanding this.  “The Garbagemen must have been richer than the President in Washington.”
    “Not so,” said his father.  “In fact, Garbagemen were not usually rich or important back then.”
“...AND,  they had many trucks, not just one!”
    Joey looked like he believed every word his Dad was saying.  Wunder knew better.  This was only a fairytale for the holidays.  He smiled a knowing smile, then watched as one of the Governor's people took Joey's father aside, and gave him some money in exchange for the coal.  This was how it had happened last year. 
    “Next year,” he told himself, “I will get that bag of coal.  It's not going back to the Governor's safe.”  That settled, Wunder waved at Joey as he and his family started the walk to their home across town.  Wunder went back to what was left of the Christmas Dump.  No more than a half hour later, the Christmas Dump was completely clean and empty.  Even the leaves and sticks had been taken.