This is a true tale about two people both named Jay. Both Jays, Jay One and Jay Two live and work in Greenfield. No doubt you may have met one or both of these nice folks. This short tale about a particular encounter may be no more than a familiar small town occurrence. Or you may decide, that it has a larger message for these times, when decency is in need of a headline and thus more than a passing mention. In either case, it seemed worth repeating.
This story began when Jay One was in dire need of a proper jacket. A jacket that would go over a salmon pink shirt and treasured, tan linen pants. Although I am no fashion whiz, I know that a jacket has a critical role to play. It has the job of tying together the outfit, an outfit, in this case, designed to serve the officiate of a wedding. Thus, it should be formal but not stuffy, becoming but not showy, comfortable but not wooly hot, such as the blue wool suit jacket he owned and hoped not to wear. In other words, Jay One’s need was gaining traction as it was now five days before the event. He had already exhausted our grown children’s various wardrobes, and was about to investigate a local friend’s closet, which was when he went to pick up his linen pants at the dry cleaners. Enter Jay Two.
Jay Two runs Jack’s Dry Cleaners in Greenfield. Jack’s has been our go-to place for dry cleaning and good political conversation for several decades now. Jay Two, if you don’t already know, is something of a local pundit. A source of sharp commentary filtered through a hardcore Southie (South Boston) background. His opinions (and he’s not afraid to share them) are well-informed and well-argued, delivered at the same time he is locating your cleaned and pressed pants. In addition to his expertise on political corruption, he is also well versed on the corruption of wine stains or spilled tomato sauce, and will let you know what will or won’t work for either. Recently, for example, I showed him a brown spot, of unknown origins, on my irreplaceable silk blouse. Jay Two, shook his head and pronounced that while it might come out, it would be at the expense of the fabric. Thus taking a revenue loss, he saved the blouse which I continue to wear (though please don’t mention the spot). Honest and keen in his appraisals, you can see why taking clothes to be cleaned had become an enjoyable experience. Until that is — the feud.
The feud developed between Jay One and Jay Two. It was not specifically between them, although they ended up on opposite sides. The issue involved local politics (and don’t worry, no gritty details here) that concerned an on-going music festival, but not our wonderful Green River Fest. According to Jay Two, the music venue, which was close to his home, interrupted his child’s sleep. And so he wanted it stopped.
The venue was also adjacent to the community farm where Jay One works and had helped to establish. It also happens that this music festival brings needed revenue to the farm, therefore helping to support its growing markets of fresh food that feeds many in the community. Feelings, of course, ran high. Jay Two pressed his case. Jay One responded. In fact, one day they had it out, face to face, right over the counter in Jack’s establishment. Each stuck to his point of view and parted without any change of mind, but able to acknowledge that respect was paid in the person of a one-on-one interaction. In the end, the matter was settled by the town amicably in favor of the music festival.
Which brings us back to the jacket crisis. Jay One picked up his now perfectly creased pants. Happens to ask Jay Two if he might know where he could rent a suitable jacket. Jay Two nods, steps around back and comes out carrying a jacket, which he hands over to Jay One. “Take mine,” he said. Right color, right weight and right size. A winner. So rest assured, when Jay One uttered those profound words: “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you man and wife,” he was properly outfitted in the perfect jacket.
Finally, you may take this anecdote as a straightforward depiction of a simple gesture. Or you may also see in it a hopeful lesson for these coarsened and contentious times — a way that we may yet be able to confront conflicts, agree to disagree and still be good and generous neighbors.
Ruth Carney of Greenfield contributes regularly to My Turn.