His had been a quiet career.
Stable, stress free and profitable.
There was comfort in the columns of figures
so neatly lined and fixed on each ledger page.
The office was businesslike and predictable.
Income and expenditures were recorded
each day for 33 years.
He left his desk for the last time
gold watch in hand and
not a future-hinted lunch date.
Days of quiet leisure turned into months
until he was out of ideas for the time
between breakfast and dinner.
He longed for the comfort and security
of his number columns.
As he watched a rerun of Oprah
a call came from the wife
of the head of the parts department
in his old company.
Would he be willing to come down
to the Pioneer Museum and give
a hand at straightening
out the books?
Easy to do.
First a bookkeeper
with time on his hands.
Then the seduction of the Docent World.
And so it was that he
became a player on the stage
of the time travelers.
Each day he commuted from today
He studied the lives of those
who lived before until
they became friends
with names and personalities.
He read every yellowed diary and letter
He searched biographies
for new information.
He collected racy gossip
to share with adults
and folklore for the children.
Soon a Colonial beard and accent
and costume became part of his being.
Docent, time traveler, historical schizophrenic--
he was a time traveler.
And if ever this Brigadoon
was to close its open borders,
he knew in which world he wanted to live.