Rev. James Gordon of the Church In the Midst of Life in Big Loft, VA came tired into the parsonage he and his wife shared with co-pastor Rev. Charles Baxter and his wife, along with the Gordons' most infamous but forgotten house guest, Ms. Darcy Bowler, saved, sanctified, redeemed former serial killer.
It was August 27, 2020, and under normal circumstances, everyone in Lofton County would have been looking forward to September, last month of the summer, an end to the brutal heat before the October turn from consistently pleasant weather.
Rev. Gordon also thought that the people still able to come in and out of downtown Big Loft would be cheered up by Big Loft's most amazing man-made phenomenon.
Twice a year, owing to the city planners' thoughtful placement of skyscrapers and facade glass, there came on Main Street the March of the Seven Suns – the light of the sun would march right down the street and reflect on six places above it, thus giving the appearance of seven suns. This occurred in March, and also again in September, when it was called the Farewell March.
Rev. Gordon hoped that the clear signs of the approach of Big Loft's great second show of seven-fold light would lift the spirits of the people, but, no. The pandemic, and the harsh enforcement of public safety mandates out of step with most of Virginia and the South, had devastated the people, and there was no end in sight to any of it.
The Church In the Midst of Life had never experienced so many people – people who used to be too proud to even acknowledge the church, and who wanted its usual poor clientele to be swept out of the area – needing help. Some people were needing all three meals a day from the church or programs like it.
Virginians were proud, and among them Lofton County had some exceptionally proud souls, but Covid-19 had come and knocked them to where they never thought they could go: to their knees, needing a hand up and maybe to pray. Not all were crossing the gap from humiliation to actual humility; their bodies were receiving the food, but their hope and ability to cope were waning.
On August 27, the first fight had broken out – some offense had gotten blown out of proportion. However, Ms. Bowler had struck a karate chop to the man who had pulled his gun so smoothly and gently that most people hadn't seen it. She put the man's entire spine below his neck out for a short nap, and then used her athleticism to hold the other man back long enough for other men to intervene.
Rev. Gordon had checked on Ms. Bowler, but she, a six-feet-four inch former D1 college basketball star still in tip-top form, was none the worse for wear. She was more worried about him.
“Well, of course I'm rattled, Darcy – do you realize it took a saved serial killer to keep the Farewell March of the Seven Suns from being the Funeral March of the Seven Suns?”
“Yes, Reverend, of course I know what I was.”
She just smiled that huge smile with those big blue eyes … so child-like, in the right care, with child-like faith.
“God has all of it figured out., Reverend. He let me remember the stunner chop instead of killing the man. He already knows what to have someone think next!”
Rev. Baxter had the thought when his colleague called him about it.
“Well, even a funeral march has a second line.”
“The Dubois family! They bring all this delicious food that people love – why not some Mardi Gras music!”
Monsieur Jean-Luc and Madame Ébène-Cerise Dubois were the founders of Dubois on the Road, a food truck business modeled after the first traveling food service they had opened back home in Louisiana.
Monsieur Dubois was delighted by Rev. Baxter's idea.
“Oh, music feeds the souls of the people and lifts their spirits – and yes, Louisiana's grand marches will make a second line for the Farewell March of the Seven Suns that will have joy in the streets! I will have a truck to make fresh pralines and keep the music going all day for you, all through September!”
“Can you come tomorrow, Monsieur Dubois?” Rev. Baxter said. “Your son Jean-Paul, who came here to apprehend Ms. Bowler, would be mortified to know she's the only reason there wasn't a murder here today. Downtown is on edge – just how much we didn't realize until today.”
“Rev. Baxter, my wife and I will be in our costume masks and grand marshal clothes, making pralines for the people tomorrow starting at 11:00 to whenever, if that is what is needed.”
Monsieur Jean-Luc was 74 and Madame Ébène-Cerise was 72 – still in excellent health for their age, but Revs. Gordon and Baxter knew such a sudden change was a sacrifice to them, so although Monsieur had forgotten to mention it, the church increased its budget line for Dubois on the Road ten percent.
“I'm so glad we did that,” Rev. Gordon said at 10:55 the next day as the truck the Dubois family had sent came decked out as a float with the patriarch and matriarch just shining and waving, wearing gloves and spritzing Mardi Gras beads with rubbing alcohol before throwing them out to the overjoyed passers by. The music stayed on and the beads and pralines kept coming, all day – Dubois nephew and niece Georges and Claudine drove in and relieved their aunt and uncle at need.
How badly did Big Loft need this joy shot in the arm? Downtown Big Loft's traffic patterns bent toward it, the foot traffic the first day, and even the car traffic the next day.
By September 1, 2020, the weary mayor of Big Loft, Donald Lee Garner Jr., noticed the change downtown – it was subtle at City Hall, but at lunch time he had heard the music of Louisiana distantly and it had cheered him up every day. Staffers had begun coming in from lunch with fresh pralines and beads, so he decided to go check things out for himself.
He arrived in the first noon of the Festive March of the Seven Suns, for Farewell nor Funeral would ever define that time of light again in Big Loft.
Everybody knew: no crowds, keep it moving, but Main Street had a whole new rhythm to it under the light of the sun and six reflected suns. It was like all the life that had been sucked out of the world in April had returned and brought friends.
Mayor Garner called Rev. Gordon.
“What is this miracle that y'all are doing?”
“Come on through masked up and we'll talk about how we keep doing it.”
Mayor Garner went into the Church in the Midst of Life and sat down in the back garden with Revs. Gordon and Baxter and also Monsieur and Madame Dubois.
“What we would like to do,” Rev. Gordon said, “is not let this die out when the light phenomenon ends on October 2, Mr. Mayor. The Duboises have this month covered, and have suggested inviting the Lofton County Seed Saving Society to set up shop with heirloom food gifts and high-spirited local music going in October through mid-November, and then asking the Bazaar at Bucephala to set up cheery artisan gifts from its local contacts while keeping bright holiday music going. All we need is for city planning to brighten up Main Street on the theme of the month, and a little city money help to support those we are asking to do this ministry with us.”
Mayor Garner thought about this for only a few moments.
“Let's make it happen, and not just here, but with all your associate agencies doing essential service in the city that want to. You have created a beacon here! Let's spread the light!”
And thus, in the darkest year the nation had seen for a century or more, the Festive March of the Seven Suns became the beginning of a season of light and joy and hope that went straight through to the New Year.
Meanwhile, Madame Dubois pulled her mask down in the garden and snuck a little kiss on her husband after the meeting.
“Now, I know you love me,” she said. “I cannot be on the truck in cold weather – my little feet will get chilled and ache too much!”
“Mon cheri, you know that I adore every part of you, and that not even for the sake of all of Big Loft would I so much as permit your toenail a chill! Besides, other enterprises need money too, and there is enough to go around – la familie Dubois need not get it all!”