The Vanishing Mural (standard:humor, 4122 words)
Author: GXD	Added: Dec 09 2009	Views/Reads: 2895/2061	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Murals help suppress crime, except when they disappear. Modern technology at work here. Laugh your way through this one!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

to discourage such behavior. 

The idea was not new.  Many studies had shown that involving local
residents in a community project, like painting a mural, had met with 
considerable success in reducing defacement by graffiti, vandalism and 
other crimes.  A meeting was planned to take action.  During the last 
few years, new residents had come to the community from everywhere on 
Earth.  The two neighborhoods grew daily with refugees from war-torn 
countries, victims of hurricanes and earthquakes, migrant workers and 
immigrants, as well as new young families from surrounding suburbs and 
nearby towns and cities.  As the population grew, so did the crime 
rate. 

Only 4 neighbors showed up at the first meeting, but they soon agreed to
volunteer a few hours every week to work on the challenge. 

"Here is what we've got to do!" declared Audrey, who represented the
Wallingford neighborhood council.  She ran the community center, 
organized voting at election time,  served on the School Board, and fed 
the homeless at the local food bank. 

"First, we have to attract everyone's attention, so they know what's
going on.  Then we have to use all the media to create interest in 
improving the neighborhood.   Mural painting can be one of the key 
projects.  Finally, we have to convince the movers and shakers in 
Fremont and Wallingford to support the project, participate in planning 
it, and recruit as many as 300 local residents to carry it out.  If we 
do it the right way, we'll have the Mayor's blessing and a matching 
grant from the City." 

"That sounds realistic," remarked Greg, "so who's going to bell the
cat?"  His comment drew laughter, followed immediately by a flood of 
bright ideas.  Greg was a noted artist and organizer.  He worked with 
Fremont Abbey, the Fremont Solstice Parade, the Fremont Saturday Market 
and the Fremont Chamber of Commerce. 

Before long, the volunteers drafted up a work-plan, sources of funding,
a budget, a time-line and other essentials.   Next, they would involve 
the city's Department of Neighborhoods in guiding and financing the 
project, as well as the city's Department of Transportation. 

After the potluck block party. more and more people began to get
enthusiastic about the merits of such a project: building a stronger, 
more welcoming and safer community.  This was a compelling objective, 
and word got around fast.  By the third meeting, dozens of people had 
volunteered their services to help create the mural.  Everyone was 
already working hard to make a living and had little time for meetings 
and volunteer work.  This project, however, held a magic attraction for 
local artists, teachers, musicians, filmmakers and supermarket 
check-out clerks. 

By e-mail and Internet, flyers and phone calls, news releases and TV
interviews, the message reached almost everyone in both neighborhoods.  
A planning committee was formed and began weekly meetings. 

It was cool under Debbie's plum tree.  Laurie and George were just
arriving.  Leah, Linda, Greg and Audrey were already into the ripe 
plums and lemonade.  They had been meeting this way for three months 
now.  This core group of neighbors interviewed experienced mural 
artists for ideas -- a mural designed to brighten the underpass, to 
discourage graffiti and to make it safer for pedestrians.  They were 
near the end of their task list: filling out the mountain of 
bureaucratic electronic paperwork and e-mailing it to all the City 
offices that needed it for their records. 

It would have to be a short meeting.  Everyone had some commitment to
attend to in an hour or less.  They were about to make a key decision.  
The round picnic table was just the right size.  Debbie brought a 
pitcher of lemonade with seven glasses and everyone sat down.  After a 
quick review and discussion of old and new business, the issue of 
responsibility came up. 

"Now that we've settled the insurance issue," declared Audrey, "all we
need is to decide who, exactly, will do the brush work on the layout 
sketch?" 

"That's easy," chimed in Leah, "Let the kids do it." 

Audrey looked down at her notes, then said "We're paying professional
artists to do the job, so we get a professional job for the money." 

"True," replied George.  "So where do the kids come in?  We've attracted
dozens from every school, church and social club who want a piece of 
the action.  Look at the beautiful ceramic and cast iron garden gates 
they've designed and made." 

Audrey drew a large photo of a mural from her portfolio.  "Here's what I
mean.  Look at this detail, look at the shading. Only a professional 
can do that." 

"What do you have in mind for the kids", asked Linda, with a slight edge
to her voice.  "You don't expect them to just run errands and clean the 
brushes, do you?" 

Greg added, "She's right.  Kids get bored quickly.  They need the
creative action of painting to express their spirit." 

"But the neighborhood expects ...." began Audrey 

Debbie interrupted.  "We're the neighborhood," she said softly. 

Speechless, Audrey held up the sketch again.  Its bright colors
reflected the flowers in the garden around them.  Green hummingbirds 
hovered over carmine fuscias.  Graceful white gulls soared over the 
trees and rooftops.  The work was indeed impressive. 

'I don't agree," commented Laurie.  "This sketch is too stiff, too
professional, and it lacks pizazz".  "It's a great piece of art, but 
the finished mural is going to be fifty times this size.  An army of 
willing volunteers is dreaming of participating in this job.  Why don't 
we use the artists as guides, coaches, teachers -- and they can touch 
up any rough spots." 

"Well, what would you suggest?" replied George, glancing at his
wristwatch. 

"I say let the kids do it," replied Leah.  "Kids are pretty savvy these
days." 

A dark look from Audrey followed her suggestion. 

"She's right" chipped in Greg, "We've got some extraordinary talent at
the Abbey as well as at the Boys and Girls Club." 

George reached for his walker.  Linda rose to help him with his jacket.
"You have plenty of talent," he admitted.  "At least you don't have to 
pay them." 

"He's got a point," remarked Leah.  "My daughter is aching to grab a
paint brush." 

The garden became quiet.  Everyone gathered their papers.  Debbie
divided the remaining plums among her guests as they left.  The 
decision by consensus was pretty clear.  "Let the kids do it." 

* * * * * 

By early September, 25 local residents were involved.  Some recruited
teen-agers to do most of the painting.  Others convinced companies and 
paint stores in both neighborhoods to donate supplies, purchasing them 
only when absolutely necessary.  A local filmmaker was already 
documenting the step by step progress for a documentary.  Neighbors 
offered to drive volunteers on their errands.  The two artists chosen 
by consensus had designed a working mural that pleased everyone, 
especially the littlest children.  Cupcakes were flying right beside 
the seagulls and the elephant, for instance.   Here and there, 
mysterious abstract images peeked out from behind the redwood trees.  
The lake was green. 

Mural artists are a strange breed of cat.  Some have a Master's degree
in fine arts; others grew up on the street, making chalk drawings and 
painting barns.  Curtis and Luciano, the typical Seattle gay couple, 
fit the mold perfectly.  The arts master was tall as a periscope, while 
his roly-poly partner resembled a giant beach ball with Santa Clause 
eyes and a pony tail. 

The word went out to every family for 2 miles around, followed by TV
interviews, newspaper editorials, posters in coffee shops, wireless 
Internet, radio and printed flyers in ice cream shops and pizza 
parlors, plus a website with links to arts and cultural organizations.  
One day a seaplane flew back and forth before sunset, towing a banner 
that read "46th Street Mural at Aurora".  A musical parade drew local 
people to the project, arousing comments among retail stores and 
businesses.  Each day, new volunteers showed up.  They kept the project 
manager busy. 

By October, over 150 participants from Fremont and Wallingford were
involved.  They spent weekends gathering for bicycle trips and potluck 
picnics, developing new friendships across three generations. There was 
even talk about starting an exclusive "46th Street Club" with 
membership limited to volunteers who donated materials, or at least 10 
hours of work time to the project. 

Christmas came and went, followed by a wet, cold Valentine's Day, when
over 240 volunteers filled the town hall to begin the layout and 
painting of the mural.  The underpass wall spanned more than a 
good-sized city block, and was 14 feet high.  Plans were to install 
scaffolding, detour traffic as needed, illuminate dark areas, power 
wash the walls and much more, before the actual painting could begin. 

After the April showers, on a glorious May morning, the first 100
volunteers met with the artists and began creating the artwork.  First, 
a crew of painters took on the job of sealing the wall, filling cracks, 
smoothing rough spots; a second crew provided them with the tools and 
materials needed.  A week later, they repeated the process, spreading a 
dense, white base coat of paint over the whole underpass. June was 
already warm when the detailed sketches were applied to the wall. The 
next 100 volunteers were set to work sandpapering the rough surface to 
smooth it. 

Teen-agers and even elementary school children made up the painting
battalion, with mothers and aunts busy nearby preparing sandwiches and 
lemonade, gossiping and exchanging recipes.  There was a lot of 
laughter trading recipes among neighbors of 17 different nationalities, 
some of whom actually spoke English. 

Little by little, a striking design developed on the wall.   Week after
week, day after day, all of June and July, twenty to thirty 
mural-makers donated their time and skills to the most fun project they 
had experienced since the fourth grade.  On Friday, August 22, 2010, 
Curtis and Luciano arrived with two helpers. They began to brush up 
details and apply the finishing touch.  On this hot day, only a few 
spectators showed up, and sweat was pouring off everyone.  The sun 
baked the finished mural as dry as an old bone. 

The last step was applying a thick, hard protective coating to the
artwork, so the colors wouldn't fade.  Its glass-smooth surface would 
make graffiti removal easy.  Once finished, the scaffolding could come 
down and the ice cream vendor could go home.  Every day, an admiring 
crowd stood around from morning to night; a live security guard watched 
the mural from night to morning. 

As you might expect in Seattle, this was no ordinary mural.  I mean it
didn't have bright ceramic panels like the one on MLK Way, or 
tackle-tangling footballers like the mural opposite Safeco Field, but 
it contributed something very special to the community: free electric 
power. 

Thanks to the development of nanotechnology and plastics, the final
transparent film applied to protect the mural was steel-hard.  It 
shielded the mural from rain, graffiti and abuse.  Embedded inside this 
clear invisible armor plate was a network of tiny solar cells.  Every 
day -- and especially on sunny days -- the giant artwork stored up 
enough electric power to illuminate most of the street lamps in both 
Fremont and Wallingford!!!  Not only would the mural save thousands of 
dollars a year for the community -- the protective coating also 
enhanced it with an ethereal glow that lasted all night long.  That 
made the underpass safer for traffic and pedestrians, discouraging drug 
trade, illicit behavior and crime. 

Before midnight on Thursday, the last of the admiring crowd was heading
for home.  The streets became silent, except for the staccato hum  of 
autos and buses zooming through the underpass.  A security guard sat 
outside her portable office, enjoying a midnight snack.  By now, most 
of the proud mural artists were fast asleep in their beds and cribs. 

Footsteps.  Then, "Good Evening ma'am" said the tall one.  The pudgy one
was behind him, trying to suppress a laugh. He looked like a pixie. 

Gloria stood abruptly, straightened her cap and badge, then faced the
two men with a questioning look.  She had never met the artists. 

The tall one said " I'm Curtis; this is Luciano.  We came to install a
protective cover, for the unveiling." 

"C-could I be of help?" she stuttered. 

"As a matter of fact, you can. We need one person in the middle." 

"Yes," confirmed Luciano, "It'll only take five minutes. but you can
help us by pulling on this little tab."  He showed her a dark gray 
tennis ball, with some loose threads hanging from it.  One thread ended 
in a plastic tab that reminded Gloria of her guitar pick. 

"No sweat," she replied. 

"Here's the plan.  Luc will go to that end.  He knows what to do.  You
go to the middle and find the tab, and I'll take the end of this thread 
and stretch it out to the other end of the mural."  He turned and began 
walking westward.  "When I shout 'Now!', you pull on that tab. You 
might have to pull a little hard, but don't worry; It won't break." 

Gloria watched the thread unraveling in both directions, with the tab
dangling in front of her.  She heard a shout, pulled on the tab, and 
the mural ..., the mural disappeared. 

It was long past midnight on Friday morning, the day of celebration
inaugurating the mural.  Frank was on his way to the apartment complex 
he maintains.  He was upset over the rising cost of cleaners and 
sponges, as well as the toys he had to pick up and store every day, 
from all the kids who left them on the garden patio.  Halfway through 
the underpass, he noticed that it was darker than usual.  One glance at 
the wall left him in shock:  the mural was gone!!  In its place was an 
opaque, gray wall, from sidewalk to ceiling and from end to end.  It 
looked as if someone had painted over the entire work of art.  All 
those months of work by the kids and their parents and siblings and 
grandparents -- wasted!!  The sparkling scenes were wiped out, forever. 
Suddenly, he felt frightened.  Frank began to run. 

When he arrived at his job, residents were pouring out of the building. 

"Hey, the mural is gone," he shouted, "somebody call the cops." 

"They're already on their way!  So are the firemen with hoses"  answered
one of the kids.  He had a red Apache hairdo and wore a tiger-striped 
T-shirt.  Frank heard sirens converging on the mural from every 
direction.  Other people had already noticed the same thing. 

Residents of both neighborhoods began gathering around the underpass,
blocking traffic, staring at the blank wall.  Everyone was puzzled by 
the loss of the mural.  Sobs and murmurs came from the crowd of 
grown-ups and children. 

"This is outrageous" exclaimed Audrey. 

"It's impossible, unbelievable" echoed Greg 

Debbie turned and went straight back to Linda's house.  "You know what
happened, don't you!" she cried. 

Linda adjusted her spectacles and said "Come in.  Sit down.  Catch your
breath.  Have a cup of tea.  Now, tell me exactly what has happened." 

"The mural is gone, or did you know already?  What can we do?  Have you
any suggestions?" Debbie sounded desperate. 

"Okay, just be patient while I find a few things," Linda replied, and
began pulling books out of the bookcase.  Behind them were a heavy duty 
flashlight, a large magnifying glass, a fingerprint kit and a set of 
handcuffs.  Minutes later, she was at the mural with the tools in her 
backpack.  Linda's original profession as a police detective promised 
to unravel the mysterious disappearance. 

Police Chief Washington was waiting for her.  They began peering closely
at one end of the wall, looking for telltale clues all along its 
borders. 

"Hand me the magnifying glass" she called, without turning around.  The
Chief dug into her backpack and handed it to her. 

"Have you found something" he asked.  "Our neighbors are here to help" 
As a matter of fact, over a dozen bystanders were already standing 
around, at 4:30 in the morning. 

Linda called for the fingerprint kit.  She brushed the gray wall here
and there. Sure enough, two sets of fingerprints showed up.  Linda 
picked them up with clear adhesive tape from her kit and pasted them 
onto a white card.  She turned to Chief Washington and handed it to 
him. 

'You can e-mail me with the results," she instructed.  If they confirm
what I suspect, we already know who the culprits are." 

The Chief smiled.  "Good for you," he answered.  "A search of the
National Fingerprint Database should take only a few minutes.  I'll 
have your answer before you can go home and turn on your computer."  A 
murmur of approval sounded from the crowd that had already gathered.  
You could hear the sighs of relief, even though there was not much hope 
for replacing the lost artwork.  And  Mayor Dimes was scheduled to kick 
off the inauguration at 10:00 the same day. 

It was 7am Friday morning when the computer's alarm jolted John awake. 
He found the e-mail from Seattle's FBI fingerprint office, and went to 
wake Linda. 

One glance and "Aha! Watson" she declared in tones that echoed Sherlock
Holmes.  "Get my coat and rev up the motorcycle.  We've got a couple of 
calls to make in Queen Anne."  Only 3 hours to solve the mystery before 
celebrating.  The Wallingford Big Band Orchestra was already gathering 
for rehearsal by the mural. 

Things happened very fast after that.  By 9am a big crowd was blocking
traffic under Aurora Avenue, laughing at the two men that the Chief, 
Linda and John had brought back.  The two wore handcuffs and had paper 
bags over their heads, with small holes so they could see where they 
were going.  Neighbors were already arriving from every direction, even 
though nobody seemed to know what would be happening.  Cameras began 
flashing, workers were setting up detour signs, erecting a portable 
stage, with microphones and speakers -- all facing a dreary, gray wall 
under the road above.  A dozen volunteers were milling around, opening 
portable chairs and tables with donuts, coffee and other goodies.  The 
older kids and some grown-ups were already dancing to the Big Band 
music, while the little ones were chasing each other around the 
bandstand. 

At precisely 9:55, Mayor Dimes' limousine arrived, threading its way
through the crowd.  Chief Washington took Linda's key and unlocked the 
handcuffs.  The paper bags came off and -- lo and behold! -- the 
culprits were Curtis and Luciano, the artists who administered the 
whole project!   Neighbors with puzzled looks on their faces were 
standing all around. You could hear dark murmurs and catcalls. 

"It's all a big hoax," said one man, "Let's go home." 

People began turning away; you could hear babies crying.  Suddenly, the
bright, sunny morning became overcast.  Nobody was aware of what was 
about to happen.  Mayor Dimes was in deep conversation with Chief 
Washington.  The two responsible artists were just walking away, in 
opposite directions. 

Suddenly, the Mayor's voice came from a battery of loudspeakers.  You
could hear  him 3 blocks away. 

"Today I came to commend my friends and neighbors in Fremont and
Wallingford for helping to make Seattle the welcoming community it is 
today.  This extraordinary mural ..." 

Everyone stared at the blank wall. 

"This mural, planned, drawn and painted by 72 teen-agers, 35 elementary
children, 6 babies and over one hundred adults ties together two of the 
most diverse neighborhoods in your city and mine.  I thank you from the 
bottom of my heart." 

And then the Wallingford Big Band Orchestra burst into music.  The
chorus from Saint Demetrius School burst into song. 

And the gray wall vanished in an instant, revealing the gorgeous
mural!!! 

The sun shone again on a stunning, thrilling artistic adventure full of
peacock and rainbow colors with dazzling shapes and figures.  The 
"togetherness" of this impressive diversity impressed everyone.  
Wallingford and Fremont were now part of a world network of murals 
linking sister cities all over the planet!!  What great adventures in 
the future were waiting for the "kids" to grow up!!! 

Epilogue 

I came back from the airport early, and dropped in at Linda's house to
hear what was going on.  My girl friend, Gloria, was still in Hawaii. 
She had missed her plane. 

"Okay, Linda, can you explain it?  What's it all about?"  I asked her
when all the brouhaha was over. 

"It's really simple.  A lot of people jumped to the wrong conclusions. 
We learned that Curtis and Luciano had come to protect the high-tech 
coating that sealed the mural, so it would cure glass-hard.  They came 
back that night with the ball of nanofabric and stretched it to cover 
the entire wall.  A tiny thread, as invisible as a blade of grass, 
pinned down the cover at the end of each wall.   One tug on each string 
collapsed the wall cover into a compact package the size of a tennis 
ball." 

"Yes, but why didn't they say something.  They knew it would be a
surprise, no?" 

"Well, maybe they did.  But they took off for Orcas Island that same
night, and you know that cell phones don't always work there.  They 
returned very early this morning, dead tired. We woke them up.  By the 
time we got back to the mural, the ceremony was already under way." 

"Anyhow," I replied, " it was a magic act, full of surprise and action. 
People were hugging and dancing as if the war was over." 

Linda glanced over her bifocals at my eyes.  "Maybe it is," she replied.


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