Wellington Napoleon Dowd - 12. Epilog

“For the twelfth and hopefully last time, I object to the renaming of the town to Dowdville, Dowdtown, Dowd Valley or any other variant on my family name. The Dowds and Wellingtons were none too concerned about the people here beyond squeezing money and labor out of them. The mills, or more specifically the people who worked in them, built this community. Let the name Millsville stand.”

“Let the record show that Councilman Dowd objects to the proposed renaming of the town.”

“But Mr. Dowd…”

“Please call me, Well.”

“Mr. Dowd, er I mean Well, the Dowd Corporation and the personal efforts of yourself and your partner Mr. er I mean Kevin deserve to be recognized. In this way we can encourage the participation of more people. How about renaming the street that leads to the Dowd Mansion to Dowd Boulevard.”

“Okay, okay, if you must. But it’s the Castle Bed & Breakfast now and the street is not technically a boulevard lacking a center median, but if it will end these proposals, fine. Rename the street.” I prayed for this meeting of the town council to end.

‘Councilman Dowd,’ you might well ask. I had been drafted in a plebiscite to fill an empty seat on the council by virtue of my family name and what was largely Kevin’s ongoing contribution to the welfare of many disadvantaged citizens. I think Mr. Selwen was behind it, too, hoping to influence votes in the council. He always shares his opinions with me, rather strongly.

Blessedly, a motion to conclude the meeting was made, seconded and favorably voted, setting me free. I fled the meeting room, leapt into the waiting Clark Gable and with only a minor scattering of local urchins, sped off to join Kevin for a later dinner and the joys that I expected would follow.