At the gated rail crossing adjacent to this station a portly but distinguished looking gentleman sat in his shiny automobile watching the 6:13 commuter slowly grind to a halt at the point where the three passenger coaches lined up perfectly with the station platform. Were it not for the white, stiff, reversed collar and the completely black suit the gentleman wore, it would have been easy to mistake him for a successful businessman. He was clean-shaven, with graying hair impeccably groomed, and sat erect in his seat, his chin slightly raised with an air of dignity and gentility; perhaps even a slight breeze of superiority. Even the most casual observer would most likely have noticed the shiny auto in which the erect figure sat, often parked in the same place, at precisely the time the 6:13 commuter was due to arrive. This had become something of a ritual for Ira; something that he looked forward to doing whenever he had the opportunity. Ira Benjamin Weatherford, Ph.D. found this ritual to be a balm for his state of mind. It was his contention that those whom he observed through the windows of the commuter train surely must be living lives far more exciting and rewarding than his own. He was frustrated with his own life and therefore would project himself into the various lives that he imagined were being lived out by those whose faces passed by in front of him, and this would placate him temporarily. How unfair it seemed to him! Surely there was more to be harvested from a life as busy as his. Was not his life virtually consumed with one responsibility after another? He was gone from his home from early morning until early evening every day of the week, save Saturday. Weekdays he spent either at his church occupied with administrative duties, in City Council meetings, or engaged in other civic responsibilities. His Saturdays were spent in his home office preparing his sermon for the next day, Sunday, which was, of course, dedicated totally to First Church. Although he had no actual complaints about the workload, he did resent the fact that there seemed to be no real satisfaction in any of it. Considering all the effort he put out he could not reconcile this with the lack of the gratification he should be deriving from all of his accomplishments. Doctor Ira, as he often was called, was certainly one of the most recognized, if not universally liked persons in the entire town. Although not one of the town’s founding fathers, he had established himself, by sheer hard work and persistent involvement in municipal affairs, as a respected community leader. Whether true or not, he also considered himself to be the town’s spiritual patriarch. This last, though not often contested, was a bit of a stretch in the minds of many of the town’s citizens due to Ira’s relatively recent arrival into the community. Midwestville was a town shaped by traditional religious customs and history so, at least in the minds of the older generations, the position of spiritual father was not one to be inherited by even the most qualified of newcomers. This lofty title should be passed down from generation to generation of sons of the town’s early settlers. Despite the prevalence of this attitude among the “old blood” of the town, Ira had literally worked his way up to a station of prominence in the town as well as acceptance by a large portion of the citizenry. Thus, he enjoyed a place of high esteem in spite of his lack of pedigree. In view of all that he had accomplished in the face of much opposition, at least in the early years of his tenure in Midwestville, he often felt just a slight surge of pride in himself, although he would have been horrified if anyone had accused him of such a thing. He was far too diligent and self-effacing to be considered proud, even according to the most liberal standards. At any rate, the ways in which he conducted himself in his profession and in his family life were above reproach. During the twenty-seven years he had been at First Church, initially as Associate Minister, then as Senior Minister, he had managed to marry the daughter of one of the most respected couples in town; and then had gone on to father two fine progeny. He and his wife, Clarice, were so very proud of Ira, Jr. and their comely daughter Pamela.
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