Date: 2018-01-24
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Disclaimer: This is a fictional story set in a fictional place. There is no real Wendell and no real Enoch, Kansas. I¢ve never been to Kansas. I know only that it is flat. Congealed salad, also known as Jell-O salad, is all too real and is my greatest culinary phobia.     Enoch in southeastern Kansas is an unincorporated town on a minor highway, really just a collection of a couple dozen well-maintained homes in the midst of a sea of wheat. Enoch was settled in the 1860¢s by Silesian Lutherans seeking economic opportunity and also greater holiness of life, free from the pernicious influence of Roman Catholics and educated men. They weren¢t against progress, and indeed, unlike their Amish neighbors in nearby Garnett, embraced electrification in the late 1930¢s. Satellite dishes, painted black so as not to be showy, were common in the early-2000¢s when this story unfolds.  Most Enoch families have a single car, usually a Chevy Blazer or a Ford Explorer, always purchased used and painted a dark color. The white clapboard wooden church with a short steeple missing its cross, is the center of life in Enoch. Enoch hasn¢t been able to afford an ordained pastor since losing 40% of its population during the Dust Bowl, but that¢s only been a blessing. Seminaries teach too many fanciful notions, like Hebrew, Latin, Greek and hermeneutics, that have nothing to do with the Gospel. No one is bothered that the one remaining Silesian German Bible, kept under glass in a corner of the church, lies neglected and unreadable to them. The men of the church preach as the spirit gives them utterance, often in fiercely evangelical paeans, although there is no one to convert since all there believe. The Bibles in the pews are Gideon Bibles, collected from motel nightstands over the years. The highlight of Sunday worship is the pot-luck supper that follows in the nearby one-room school house that doubles as a community center.  The Enoch Lutherans are Lutheran in name only, having nothing to do with any national Lutheran conference. Like their Amish neighbors, the Enoch Lutherans believe that education after the eighth grade is unnecessary and, indeed, detrimental to faith, After a long court battle Enoch won an exemption from Kansas¢ compulsory education laws. The church hires a teacher and harmful notions such as tectonic plate theory and evolution are not taught. Parents are urged to monitor what television their children watch, especially on public television. NOVA is seen as particularly subversive, promulgating such satanic lies as the Earth being four or five billion years old, quite impossible since the universe was created on October 23, 4004 BC. Everyone in Enoch knows that. October 23rd is celebrated each year as Creation Day, with the ladies of the church and town, the two being the same, competing for blue ribbons in pies, cakes, pickles, and congealed salads designed to show forth the glories of creation.  Sculpting Jell-O has been raised to an art form.  In 1982, a church elder preached a vision that he had received in a dream, leading most Enochians to sell off their farmland, the titles of which dated back to the Homestead Act. That proved providential as it coincided with the peak in Kansas farmland values. A trusted banker in Garnett recommended Berkshire Hathaway stock to them. The families of Enoch became quite wealthy, but the wealth remains covert. The Silesian work ethic prevails, and everyone works, even if the businesses seldom prosper. Mrs. Toman enjoys running her caf©, open five days a week for breakfast and lunch, renowned for her Thursday blue plate special of kluski potato dumplings, fried beef rouladen with gravy, and boiled red cabbage. Mr. Scholz keeps all of the Enoch cars up and running out of his garage. Dennis Dittrick, the father of our hero Wendell, owns the used car lot. Mr. Schlesinger¢s General Store is open Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays, but most Enochians prefer to shop weekly at the Walmart Supercenter in Iola.  Wendell was born at home in 1982, his mother Gloria attended by the ladies of Enoch led by Helen, who fancied herself a midwife. The delivery was difficult, and Helen had to resort to using salad tongs as forceps, to bring Wendell kicking and screaming into the world. The resulting dented head was not pretty, but the people of Enoch are not known for their beauty. It wasn¢t noticed when Wendell was breastfeeding, but when he began transitioning to solid foods, Wendell was found to be indiscriminate in his tastes. He seemed unable to tell food from nonfoods or even to know when something was salty, bitter or sweet. Neither was he able to distinguish the smell of onions frying from a rose or a septic tank. Wendell only knew that he was hungry and felt compelled to put stuff into his mouth and swallow it. Things that were red were his first preference. Blue things were never eaten, and different colors should not touch.  Dennis and Gloria took Wendell to the medical clinic in Garnett for his routine well-baby care and nothing out of the ordinary was noticed until they told the nurse about Wendell¢s apparent lack of a sense of taste or smell. The doctors confirmed the anosmia and ageusia, and recommended a specialist in Kansas City, but Dennis and Gloria saw no need for that. It was obviously God¢s will for their infant, and who were they to dispute providence? Wendell would just need very close watching over what he put into his mouth, until he was old enough to be taught what was food and what was not. Wendell grew and thrived, although his language acquisition skills came late. He could hear and understand normally, but finding the right word and speaking it without a stutter was problematic. The doctors called it aphasia and recommended speech therapy, but what was the point? There wasn¢t much to be said in Enoch. Everyone knew what Wendell meant to say and would help him by completing his sentences.  It might have been expected that Wendell would be teased and bullied by the other children, but not in Enoch. Everyone in Enoch was a close relation, and truth be told, everyone was a little different. Wendell was just different in his own way. With only one extra year needed, Wendell graduated from eighth grade and started working for his father. Dennis had Wendell detail the cars on the lot so they would be clean and shiny for potential buyers. Dennis promised Wendell that once he had his driver¢s license, he could drive cars back from auction, but mostly Wendell just kept washing and waxing the cars, even when they didn¢t need it. And so Wendell kept his hands busy and avoided becoming the devil¢s tool, idleness being a cardinal sin in Enoch. Wendell dreamed of leaving Enoch as his brother had done. But what could he do and where could he go? His brother had left and had been shunned, so Wendell couldn¢t ask him.  At age 18, Wendell joined the church and was baptized. There was a time when infants had been baptized at Enoch Lutheran, but their Amish friends had taught them better. Wendell was allowed to move into the tack room of the old barn behind the house and made it into his own place, complete with a small television set and artwork taken from the same motels that provided the Gideon Bibles to the church. He was particularly partial to a landscape of a mountain valley with a gurgling brook and wondered what it would be like to walk up a hill. He splurged on a toffee-colored Barcalounger, specially ordered at the Walmart. Wendell knew it was time to be getting married, but he really had no interest in girls and none was interested in him. Now that he had privacy, Wendell masturbated, but only once, to see that everything worked. It did, and that satisfied his curiosity. He promised God that he never would again and kept his promise. He thought to himself that if he could only smell pheromones, that he called fairmonts, he might be attracted to women.  When Wendell wasn¢t working, he watched television. Mindful of his upbringing, Wendell avoided such shows as NOVA and Nature, but loved the public television series, Trailside: Make Your Own Adventure, hosted by John Viehman, the editor of Backpacker Magazine. Wendell was completely taken by the two-episode show, Thru Hiking the Appalachian Trail, that first aired in November 2001 and followed several hikers and couples on their way from Georgia to Maine. He watched it on every rebroadcast until he practically knew it by heart. Hiking the Appalachian Trail became Wendell¢s passion, even obsession, and in the summer of 2002, he approached his parents about it. Dennis and Gloria were naturally confused why their son would ever want to leave Enoch, but when he assured them that it would only be for six months, they approved and obtained permission from the elders for Wendell. Wendell had had a difficult life, and if this would make him happy, they were glad to consent to his adventure.  Since he was living at home, Wendell had saved most of his salary, and even after purchasing the Barcalounger, he had several thousand dollars to outfit himself and cover the costs of the hike. It wasn¢t as though he was going to be buying beer or fancy foods along the way. Wendell ordered catalogs from LL Bean, REI and Campmor, and tried and failed to match the equipment he had seen on Trailsides to the tiny catalog photos. Frustrated, he borrowed a car from the used car lot, and drove to Kansas City, Missouri, less than two hours away. A young man working at the outfitter there had thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2000. With his help, Wendell returned home that afternoon with everything he needed, and not much that he didn¢t. He didn¢t buy a camp stove, because what did he need it for? For Wendell, food was energy and nothing else. He decided to keep his diet simple. For breakfast, Wendell planned on Hostess Fried Pies, cherry being his favorite since it was red. Lunch and dinner would be peanut butter, just smooth peanut butter eaten by the tablespoon. And for snacks, Wendell chose Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies, high calorie textural yumminess to him. That, plus Flintstones Chewable Vitamins and hamburgers in town would see him through.In February 2003, the ladies honored Wendell at the potluck supper following church, featuring a mountain carved from Lime Jell-O with candied walnut rocks as the centerpiece. Wendell wasn¢t asked to speak, because they all knew how difficult that was for him, but the elders gathered around him and laid hands on him in blessing, exhorting him to remain true to the faith, read from Holy Scriptures each day, and pray to the Lord for safekeeping. Dennis and Gloria dropped Wendell off at the Greyhound Terminal in Kansas City the next morning, in time for the 1:10 PM overnight bus to Atlanta, and he was on his way.  Riding across Missouri, Wendell pondered what his trail name would be.  He had an hour in St. Louis to change buses, but stayed in the terminal, having heard about the dangers of big cities. He ate a bit of his peanut butter and a Little Debbie for dessert,. That night, he dreamed of Doris Day singing, Que Sera, Sera, and found himself humming it as the bus pulled into Atlanta a little after seven o¢clock in the morning. That would be his trail name, Que Sera, Whatever Will Be, for he felt like he was trusting in God on this pilgrimage. Wendell feared getting lost in the big city of Atlanta, so he had arranged for a shuttle driver to meet him at the bus terminal and drive him to Amicalola Falls State Park near Dawsonville, Georgia. He was there at 9:30, signed the register in the visitor¢s center, weighed his pack (45 pounds) and started his hike, no longer Wendell Dittrick from Enoch, Kansas but Que Sera, an Appalachian Trail thru-hiker.From Trailside, Que Sera knew better than to start with high mileage days, so he planned on only eight-to-ten mile days the first week, ten-to-twelve miles days the second week, and so on, until he could comfortably hike 18-20 miles a day. He wore canvas sneakers from Payless Shoes and cotton socks, and never suffered a blister. Que was average height and slender in build with a thatch of strawberry blond hair over his dented, lopsided face and unable to grow more than few chin whiskers. Even after several weeks on the trail, Que had a look of pitiful innocence that brought out protective feelings in his fellow thru-hikers. They included him in conversation, patiently waiting for him to find his words. With no one rushing him by completing his sentences, the words began to flow more freely.  He didn¢t smoke marijuana or drink beer in town, but Que didn¢t judge others, so his company was welcome. For the first time in his life, Wendell experienced belonging and cried from happiness. Others noticed the tears, and asked him what was wrong. He tried explaining and that only endeared him more to them when they realized that his innocence was not merely in appearance. He started each day by saying,¢This is the day the Lord has made: we will rejoice and be glad in it,¢ and was.Que Sera summited Katahdin in Maine on Labor Day, and true to his word, went home to Enoch, Kansas. His parents, and indeed, the whole community, were thrilled to see him, having secretly feared that he would be yet another lost child. The elders gave thanks for his safe return in church that Sunday, and the ladies made an enormous congealed salad for the pot-luck, with a white chocolate hiker on the summit of the green Jell-O mountain, textured with crushed pineapple and mandarin orange slices and set in a lake of blue Cool Whip. Dennis gave a lovely speech thanking God for the return of his son, thanking the ladies for the lovely feast, and announcing that Wendell¢s job at the used car lot was awaiting his return. Wendell tugged on his father¢s sleeve and wanted to say a few words himself, but Dennis shushed him, saying that no one expected him to speak because it was so hard for him and that they all knew that he was thankful to be home again.  Wendell walked home and went into the tack room where he lived, turned on the television and sat down in his Barcalounger. He didn¢t come into the house for dinner, but Gloria told Dennis that all of the excitement must have worn him out, that he needed his rest. He didn¢t come out the next day. On the third day, when they still hadn¢t seen Wendell, Gloria knocked on the door to the tack room. Hearing no answer, she opened the door and found Wendell dead in his Barcalounger, the television blaring Nova.