History: a few moments in my participation -- A Simple Story About Hope

[drewby2]

A Simple Story About Hope

by Andrew Paton Plummer

Douglas, Michigan 49406

applummer@sbcglobal.net

248.252.4799

Now that I have retired from the television broadcast business in Detroit, I have moved to a little burgh called the City of the Village of Douglas. They are a bit double minded, desiring the benefits of being a city yet yearning to still be a village. I remember a woman, back when I worked in professional audio sales, on the phone at Klipsch Associates. This is the company formed in the 1940's that invented speakers for home and professional stereo. Paul Klipsch moved the company to a small town in Arkansas, maybe a bit like my own small town. The Klipsch company certainly hired the local folk. Folk who talk with that soft and friendly voice that my Southern friend considered “talkin' right”. “ra – ee – it” has almost three syllables.

This woman, thirty years ago (if I could only remember her name), was one of my all time favorite people. She populated the professional customer service at Klipsch. One day, I needed my customer’s speaker drivers re-coned. Some of the musicians that frequented the Hy James dealership in Ann Arbor, Michigan liked to play their music back dangerously loud. The hyper-efficient speakers made by Mr. Klipsch are so fine for the human voice, guitar or piano, but they also work on organ, the orchestra or rock and roll.

I decided to call my friend who “drove gentle” or informed me that “y'all” was only a plural. I needed an address to ship the drivers to be refurbished.

"It is Klipsch and Associates, Hope Arkansas 99605.” She crooned.

"What is the street address?” I asked.

I could hear some soft laughter. “Honey, there ain't nothing else here in Hope, Arkansas, except us and the chicken processing plant.”

When I try to explain that mail is not delivered to my home in Douglas, most shippers cannot understand. Today, if the Postal Service does not have your address in its data base, your home does not exist. In my home town people go every morning to the post office to get mail. Many walk next door to a coffee shop called “Respite” and sit and talk. This is a very civilized and humane place. I like the idea, lost in the past, that once you get to a village, you will find your destination. After all, how many places are there in Hope?

[Colin]

that explains the feathers in the bass bins!