The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County: A Novel

64. Memorial Service

246 Memorial Service 64 Back in the spring, when the doctor told Ambrose his heart wasn’t near as strong as it once was, he had penned a letter to Gloria: My Dear Gloria, I’ve just returned from the doctor, who told me my old ticker isn’t up to par, and that I should slow down a bit. You know me; I’m not too keen on slowing down. But nonetheless, I thought that if something should happen to me, and I’m not planning on it, here is how things should be taken care of. I do not want a church service of any kind. I never set foot in a church and to do so when I’m dead wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense. But it would be nice, if people were so inclined, to hold a memorial service at the Increase Joseph Community Park, in front of the Trail Marker Oak. And again, if it is not too much trouble, I’d like to have my ashes spread beneath that old tree. As much as your folks disliked me, I know how much they loved that old tree, as I do. I sincerely hope it outlives all of us. Fondly, Ambrose Gloria and Karl set a date for a memorial service a week following his death, at the park and in front of the Trail Marker Oak. Gloria traveled to Willow River, met Billy Baxter, and asked him to put a note in the Ames County Argus about the event. She also sent an e-mail message to her own newspaper, the Los Angeles Journal, to mention the service. She asked Karl 247 Memorial Service to let the people at the Alstage Sand Mining Company know that a memorial service would be held at the park, and the camouflaged guards with the automatic weapons should fade into the background during the service. Karl contacted Emerson Evans directly, and Evans reluctantly agreed. “But,” he said, “I’m not very happy about having a memorial service at our mine site for the fellow that gave us the most grief about even having a mine there.” Karl explained that it was Ambrose Adler’s last request, and the whole thing would be over in an hour or so. The service was scheduled for the last Sunday in September. It was likely one of the last events to be held in the park before the mine commenced operations on October 15. Gloria and Karl expected a large crowd, but nothing of the order that turned out for the event. Five deputies from the sheriff’s department plus a couple of state patrol officers and the entire contingent of Link Lake officers (two) were pressed into duty to direct traffic and, along with volunteers, park cars at the Link Lake High School. School buses and drivers were organized to transport people to and from the park site. Of course most of the media from across the country were still in Link Lake, which swelled the crowd and somewhat unexpectedly, but not surprisingly, representatives from almost all of the major environmental groups arrived in Link Lake to pay their respects to the one person who likely did more in his tenure as Stony Field, environmental writer, than any other single person in recent history to advance the cause of environmental protection. Gloria had met many of these people, as they knew she was Stony Field’s editor. She recognized people from the Sierra Club, the National Wildlife Association, the National Audubon Club, the Nature Conservancy, and several more. None of them knew that her relationship with Stony Field was much deeper than editing his weekly columns. Emily Higgins enlisted Earl Wade as emcee for the service. Wade walked up to the microphone and looked out over the crowd, which a state patrol officer who had helped with many large events had told him numbered well over a thousand people. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Wade began. “On this beautiful September day, when the maple leaves are just beginning to show color, and the waters 248 Memorial Service of Link Lake are as blue as the sky above, we gather here to honor one of our own—Ambrose Adler—farmer, lover of wildlife, advocate of living life simply, and . . . and much to the surprise of all of us, a brilliant writer with legions of readers in this country and...