#wtsedit

How curious, Edward Denham was being positively loquacious and flirtatious with Miss Gigi Darcy today. This was the most I have ever heard him speak in sequence.  Perhaps if I was an attractive young lady, I might be heard by him, or if I was one of his aunts, that I would be heeded.

Mr. Denham is a bit reckless with his position as assistant to our haplessly beloved mayor, Tom Parker. I suspect that Denham is trying to hitch his train out of town to Domino. If we were a more disagreeable town, we might ride him out on the rail. However, that is too much fuss and flummox to merit our general attention.

While I am slightly disapproving of his tactless tactics displayed today, I am far more overruled by quiet amusement.  He does have a certain charmed life about him.  I am slightly curious by how it will affect Tom.

My search for an apprentice has been fruitless so far.  It may be that I am not applying myself very heavily to this position's fulfillment.  However, I thought with the swelling of the working population come summer, surely some brave young soul would be a willing employee. I would like to think myself a fair minded person, but my ability to connect to youth is impaired by my profession and its propriety.

While I enjoy visiting with local students over tea, scones, or happenstance encounter, I believe it to be unwise to express an incautious interest in the lives of youth.  As an undertaker, my dealings with death discomfort the living, and make them slightly suspicious as to my intentions in cultivating a relationship.  There are tall tales as to my colleagues shaking hands with a fellow and sizing them up for their funeral suit and coffin dimensions.

However, I endeavor to be careful and gracious to all whom I meet.  I do not condone careless tones and words, but do not mind lighthearted jests.  Cleverness and turns of phrase amuse me, and poetry grants a lovely voice to emotions and other intangible elements.  When my friends are saddened and depressed by the weight of life's obligations and responsibilities, I strive to encourage them.  They are important to me, and I am not insincere in my compliments.

When one has seen as many broken lives, and how they end, I earnestly hope to repair where I can the damage which is wrought.  I have been proxy witness to the scatter-chart of emotions brought to the surface by the spotlight of the Domino testing.  Some are thirsty for fame, for an escape from perceived mediocrity in an unremarkable existence in this town.  There are some who are uncomfortable with the vulnerability of exposing their private lives to the world's scrutiny.

Social media makes us citizens of a broader network, whose territories are unfamiliar and full of potential.  It is a frightening and exciting world in which connections are formed quickly, and lost just as suddenly.  Netiquette in communications is often superseded by the ease and rapidity of making oneself heard.  But, just because your messages are seen, does not mean that they are understood.  Especially in the brevity of Twitter, in which special care must be taken to convey your intended message.

I am not sure how to contextualize today.  Cecil the Seagull died, and the people of this town are mourning again.  It is both touching that we value the life of one of God's creatures so highly, & sad that businesses feel the need to shut down after each instance.

Death is a part of life.  It is the period, the full stop where the readers of history pause and consider the sentence which just ended.  What did we learn from the words used and the arrangement of its contents?  But it is just that - a pause.  History is an ongoing tale, where sentences build upon one another.  Some are lost in the sweep of the story, but their effect is remembered as if a shadow.  Others burn bright and lovely, touching the hearts of any who witnessed that person's portion.

It is my job to act as a sort of editor to the life which was lost - collecting the dangling participles of the rough draft and smoothing them into an shortened eulogy which can comprehended.  It is not a sin of omission, because the whole story would swallow the time of others.  No man can recall all the details of his own life. God alone keeps a full account.  I want to remember the good times publically, and muse over the difficult portions in private.  It is considered imprudent to speak ill of the dead, because the subject is in no position to argue.

However, I am sure that my experiences with the deceased is incomplete, subject to interpretation, and muddled by the tide of time.  Some flotsam is bigger and creates a deep impression which sticks in the shore of my mind.  It is the same with others. This is why we invite those present at the wake, showing, and funeral to share their stories of the recently departed.  The picture becomes clearer when the notes are collected, organized, and shared.

I know that a seagull is one of God's creatures, and will handle it with the respect which it deserves.  But if we weep and shut down after the death of our avian friend who did not talk, eat, argue, cry, dance, sing, or smile with us, how much more will we mourn for our neighbors with whom we do these things?

A life is a life, no matter how small

Pauper or rich, He cares for them all.

Equally started, equal in end.

Today marked the young Miss Gigi's arrival in Sanditon.  Our beloved mayor, Tom Parker, had a conversation with her via the Domino Application.  As fine a leader as he may be, his expertise did not extend to the technological aspects.  Tom has even managed to open a twitter account, which his assistant talked him through.  This assistant,Edward Denham, has the hearts of most eligible young ladies in the area.  He did our town proud with his fleeting appearance.

Clara Breton, owner of the ice cream shoppe "Sanditon Scoops" was remarkable eloquent under the spotlight.  She announced through Domino that she plans on offering the promotion of "Free sprinkles" on every order placed tonight.  Meanwhile, Tom talked of revitalizing the look of the downtown area: Integrating the "new Sanditon" with our traditional small town charm.

I understand that he is a visionary with plans to put us on the map.  I know how much he's worked to smooth the Pemberley Digital beta testing team's arrival.  But we are a town not used to sudden changes to our way of life.  Novelties such as this Domino application have piqued our curiosity and allowed us an opportunity to showcase Sanditon.

I spoke to Sanditon History's Genevieve Derrick & Luke Gendry concerning their dispute over the issue.  I would advise a wait-and-see mentality when it comes to change.  People don't like being driven with a cattle prod of law and command. However, if they are coaxed, persuaded, and given incentive or a proper perspective? They will arrive at their destination before they realize how they reached it.

It was a fine sunday morning for me. I leisurely browsed social media as new accounts awakened and new friends were made.  Among these was the mysterious "Sanditon Spider," a rogue brown recluse who has settled in the town.  Our beloved local Private investigator, Rammi Glomp, took its arrival as a personal inquiry.  Her well-documented hunt for the Spider has an official spotify playlist provided by Sanditon Records.

I fear that this unfortunate first impression has only worsened the situation with the intelligent arachnid.  This eight limbed spinner of intricate masterpieces has established an online presence on the interwebs.  Already, it has been mentioned in Sanditon News One broadcasts and Sanditon 911 reports.  The tone of these messages are tinged with a flavor of species profiling which is unbecoming of our charming community's image.  

I would prefer to avoid prejudice when it comes to meeting any individual, and am willing to communicate with this clever recluse.  It appears to be provoked by the mutterings of fear and suspicion, living an elusive lifestyle while being preemptively aggressive in its ominous tweets.  This only reinforces the stereotype of the Spider as unreasonable and having something to hide.

I propose to break this cycle of paranoia and biting criticism.  I am willing to hear the Spider out, to understand how it intends to live in Sanditon, and how we might help.  Just like Becky Dolphinton's trial concerning the untimely demise of Jawsica Sharkson by curling iron, she is an exception to the rule.  Dolphinton residents are not our enemies, & neither are spiders.  There are outliers from the general trends in behavior, and we can make a change by choosing to hear out those whose lives are unfamiliar to our own experience.