BIG SOUTHERN CHAPTER 85

AUGUST 2012

WULF

Wulf is up on the check, adjusting the flow to the Lowline to match the needed water ordered by farmers for use tomorrow. On smaller laterals he still has to turn a screw to raise and lower the water level, but with five hundred cubic feet of second here a computerized setup has made his work easier.

He stands and watches, the components of much of his work, looking for problems—differences, really, from the norm—that might arise. They rarely do, but if they do they generally come when a change, like altering the water level, first occurs. In his back pocket, the sheet of paper with phone numbers rests folded, its creases from being crumpled still evident but not interfering with readability. His hand goes to it, does so multiple times a day, has done so for many days, weeks maybe—it has become a kind of talisman, a lucky charm, except that the habit has begun to annoy him.

He pulls out the paper, opens it, reads the names so identical save for that single middle initial. One of the numbers was no longer in service, one had changed ownership, one just rang until an answering machine picked up the call—the voice was that of a young woman with a southern accent.

How much does he want to know? How much energy does he want to expend? One of the few pieces of advice his stepfather gave him was 'when you come to a place you can't decide, ask which way goes a better direction with better outcomes—what makes you better'. In his younger days, Wulf might have found this more useful but he didn't use it, but now it seems of value. What good can come of it? Sure, he can imagine Hallmark scenes, an aging father uniting, for the first time, with his offspring he never knew—but wouldn't that just be made-up? And how would it enhance Wulf's life to know his dad, perhaps his siblings, after not knowing them for all their lives? That seems somewhat dramatic, not real at all.

This is easy, he thinks, crumpling the page. He tosses it into the Lowline's stream, watches it pass away on the current. He surveys the check for anything of note and finding nothing walks away.

© 2025 Ralph Thurston