Winner; White County Creative Writer's Conference

I attended the conference for the first time this year. It was a lot of fun. I entered three pieces in the contests and was fortunate to take home a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winner. Congratulations to all the attendees and winners.

This is my 3rd place Winner, The Gary R. Hoffman Award. It's a bit of an inside joke around here. There is a writer based in Florida who regularly enters and wins many of the contests from our groups here in Arkansas. We haven't met him. No one knows him. He's become something of a legend. With his permission, this contest was to construct a fictional biography of him. He did the judging.

The Good Life in Obscurity

     Now in my 80^th year I find a need to pen my memoir. Contemporary memoirs seem to be written by increasingly younger figures. I always thought it rather presumptuous to write about your life before you’ve lived. Life is for the living of it. Old age is the time for reflection and hopefully only little regret. I have lived a good life. Oddly enough, living it in obscurity has been my greatest achievement.

     I was born Donald Raymond Flowers in July of 1937. The family farm wasn’t much. We survived on fish and game from the area as much as what the farm provided. Life was tough but Big Sky country is beautiful. As a lad I didn’t appreciate it as I do now. All I wanted was to flee as far as I could get from the Milk River and the rural life that threatened to suffocate me. The military was my salvation.

     I joined the Army in 1954. The Service taught me discipline, confidence and self-reliance among other skills.  I also learned that the military life was not for me. I fulfilled my two year commitment and was discharged in 1957. Looking back with the eyes of history and experience I see that I dodged two wars, enlisting at the end of the Korean conflict and getting discharged just as the Vietnam War was getting started.

     I took my last paycheck from Uncle Sam and bought a nice suit. In the military, I found that most people were kind and respectful of the uniform. It became evident that a fine suit garnered respect, as well. While searching for work, I discovered (quite by chance) that people will assume a lot if you let them. I showed up in my new suit, resume in hand, to interview for a job. I signed in at the desk like everyone else and settled down with a magazine to wait my turn. It pleased me to note that I was the best dressed in the office. There were a good many young men waiting when I arrived so I figured it would be a while.

     The receptionist at the desk scanned the sign in sheet and motioned me over. “I’m sorry to make you wait Dr. Flowers. You may go on in. Mr. Davenport’s office is on the left.”  Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth as it were, I strolled right on down to Mr. Davenport’s office.

     Understand, I had no intention of deceiving good Mr. Davenport. I thought we’d have a chuckle at the fact the receptionist thought D. R. Flowers was the physician he’d been expecting. But it was so easy. He shook my hand and launched into a harried diatribe about his ulcer. I noted the bags under his eyes and the empty coffee mugs on his desk while he spoke. When he finally took a breath I did my best to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

     “Mr. Davenport, I know I’m not your regular doctor but I’m sure he’s told you that too much coffee is not good for your ulcer.” He tried to speak but I was having so much fun I cut him off with a serious look. “You aren’t getting enough sleep. More coffee is not the answer.” I shot him a knowing glare. “And you’d do well to ease back on the bourbon.” The last gibe was a guess but he looked the type.

     He sat down hard. “I know. I know. Old Doc Simpson said the same thing. I was just hoping that you might have something that would get me through the day.” For the first time since I had strolled into his office, Mr. Davenport looked me over. “You sure are young for a doctor.”

     I was certain that I was caught. I eased myself toward the door. “You know, I get that all the time. I take after my mother. She always looked young.  There’s nothing more for me to do here so I’ll be going. Remember, you have to actually follow the doctor’s orders. Have yourself a glass of buttermilk and you’ll feel better for a while. Cut back on the coffee and bourbon and drink some water.” I kept talking as I slid out the door.

     Making my way to the exit, I tried not to run. Just as I reached for the door, Mr. Davenport burst from his office.  “Wait right there, doc!” he shouted. 

     My feet wanted to run, but I turned and smiled instead. I thought I might just talk my way out of it. “Now Mr. Davenport…” I began.

     “Oh, I know what you’re going to say.” He cornered me at the door. “You didn’t do anything but tell me to do what old Doc Simpson said, but you came down here. It’s worth it to me for the second opinion. Thanks.” He pumped my hand in a hearty handshake and deposited a crisp twenty in my palm. I walked out of there with a new career having just completed my first grift.

     I charmed and sweet talked my way through the next few decades. I enjoyed being someone else. Crisscrossing the country several times with a different identity every few months, I got bold seeking the big score. I was nearly caught impersonating a bank examiner in Idaho. I did make some cash selling knock off art in California.  In 1971 I hatched a reckless plan that involved an airliner and a parachute. It nearly got me killed. It did put an end to my career in the Pacific Northwest. I headed south. I grew a beard and sought mundane employment.

     In Missouri, I sold cars. I was well suited for the job. However, I found it unsatisfying. I moved on to Florida. I always enjoyed the beach. With the Eighties came the computer age and it was time for me to pick an identity. It was becoming more and more difficult to falsify documents. No more Dr. Flowers, no more Dan Cooper, no more Fred Johnson; I became Gary R. Hoffman. I found I could make a decent living selling insurance. I also found a way to continue to be someone else.

     I became a writer. At first, it was just an outlet for my adventurous side. I wrote a short story for a local contest and I won. Even as my beard got gray and my waistband expanded, I found a way to continue my adventures. Nowadays I write what makes me happy.  Instead of traveling the country, I enter contests worldwide. I send my alter egos everywhere. I could have been famous. One of my identities was infamous. But my greatest grift has been enjoying the good life in obscurity.