Let It Be Me

Hooray! I’m entering an essay contest. What fun! What excitement! What hopes have suddenly opened up before me! If I write the best 200-word essay on why I would like to own and operate a sizeable bed-and-breakfast establishment in New England, I win! The inn! It’s a beautiful building. It’s what I always wanted. Where I’ve always wanted to live, in the unspoiled New England wooded countryside.

This inn, built in 1805, is situated on 12 acres on Kezar Lake, or near it anyway, overlooking the White Mountains, or with a view of them anyway. There’s a barn that was built in 1795, and a modern guest house, too. The establishment has seven guest units, two dining rooms, and a screened-in porch that wraps all the way around the inn, from which guests and proprietor alike can spend long peaceful evenings watching the mountains gather shadow, or at least watching as the mountains disappear in shadow. The mountains are actually kind of far away.

Oh wow. Oh, boy. Pretty neat. I can already breathe that cold, clear air, smell the pines exuding their tars as the Summer forenoon sunshine imparts its gentle New England heat. Myriads of birds have been chattering everywhere since before dawn. Who would have thought those giant trees could host such wild commotion. Who would have thought birds could cause such wild commotion? The weft formed of those mighty branches has created a veritable kingdom, and there it is, overhead, and I am – or will be – listening to it in wonder, day after day, with a happiness I haven’t known since I was a child, genuine happiness because it is a lasting happiness because I won all those trees and all those birds who have been here all my life; why wasn’t I?

Yes, I intend to become securely settled in that inn for life. Never have I wanted anything so much. The whole of New England out there for my dogs to roam in, a continuity of peace and quiet for my cat and me that no intruder or intrusion could possibly puncture; what individual disturbance could be equal to the peace of all of New England? Peace, purity, purpose, safety, clarity, meaning, serenity, and hot baked muffins whenever I want. And tea, no more coffee, and, oh my. My world would be right. My life would be right. Oh, it would be. Finally. I am going to pour my heart into this essay. I am going to win.

I haven’t known such excitement since I was twelve when I joined a sweepstakes. All I had to do was think up and send in the best name in order to win the thoroughbred being awarded as prize. It was easy. I came up with an unbeatable name right away: Lady Lightning. Then I pondered. It might be a boy horse. Gratis I added the equally splendid alternative: Lord Lightning, and sent off my entry. I never heard from anyone at the other end. I received no indication that there was another end. I did wonder energetically for some time, having long realized I had not won, what name could possibly have been entered to eclipse my indisputably superior entries. Within a few days, at most a week, I had forgotten all about it. But to this day I still wonder: how could they possibly have found a better name for their racehorse than mine? I do have to admit that Lord Lightning doesn’t sound quite right now; if I entered that contest today, I’d go for Amber Brandy. But I’m grown up now. I’m an adult.

As for this contest, there is more to it than coming up with a winning name. I am to write a 200-word essay expressing why I want to own and run a country inn. That should be no problem. Ever since I found this Web page, my mind has been a lightshow of visions, all flashing prognostications of a bright, certain future and all focused on owning and running this very country inn. My country inn. I already think of it like that.

The essay is to be formal, that is to say, it is to have an introduction, body, and conclusion. Use of pronouns is permitted (no non sequitur on my part; they stipulated that in the conditions for some reason). Titles won’t be included in the word count. ‘I’ and ‘a’ count as whole words, even though they’re just one letter long. Hyphenated words count as single words. I am to fasten all contest submission items – entry slip, essay, two SASEs, and a bank cashier’s check or money order – securely together. Paperclips are preferred, but I can staple them all together if I want to. I am not to contact the current inn owner or I will be disqualified.

The check is for the entry fee, but all serious contests today will require an entry fee. And there’s no question this is a serous contest. For example, the names of the judges won’t be released except to a public authority requesting such information within the scope of its jurisdiction. And all entry fees will be held in an escrow account until the minimum number of entries – 7,500 – has been submitted. In other words, this is not a scam. And as for the entry fee, just think of the work involved on their part.

Because they require entrants to send submissions by normal mail, someone has not only to count the envelopes as they come in, but open each one, take out that check, enter the name of the fee-paying entrant in a list based on the corresponding entry slip, and deposit the check in the escrow fund. We’re talking serious bookkeeping already. Since they’re obliged to open every envelope anyway because of that check escrow thing, they’re better off processing the rest of the envelope right away, even though the minimum number of entries hasn’t come in yet. That means gut the envelope, stuff one SASE with an acknowledgment of receipt to be returned to sender; put the second SASE into a sack until entrants can be notified of the contest winner; affix the one and same ID number to the essay submitted and the corresponding entry slip and put them in two different stacks. This part they can’t mess up, because a contest requirement was that no personal information should appear on the essay. As they work, they can just hope the minimum 7,500 submissions come in, but this is all their own fault because they said that about the escrow account. Anyway, I don’t mind paying a $125 entry fee for all that work. As I said, it just shows the contest is serious. In fact, the higher the fee, the more serious the contest, that’s how I see it.

I can enter as many times as I want if I include an entry fee with each submission. That’s not saying my chances of winning will go up. This is not a lottery. Lotteries are very uncertain. You try to pick the numbers that will come up. A contest is different. If I write the best essay, and I will, I win. Chance is not involved. It’s just that if I enter twice or even three times, I get to express in three different ways my intense desire to own and operate my own inn. And as I said before, I am going to put my whole heart and soul into the effort. I just have to win. I feel more strongly about it than ever now that I’ve thought it over.

Just one contest condition I’m not too sure about. It says that entering the contest “constitutes” an assignment to the sponsors of all copyrights arising under both statute and the common law and all other rights derivative therefrom. But copyrights of what? They don’t mention essays, but if that’s what they mean, they’re claiming the copyright to just about 7,500 pages of material. That’s a lot of material. They also claim the right to publish all or part of the essays without royalty payments or any other consideration. I may go back to that spot, but I already know there’s a word missing in there, like the word “essay.”

But the other conditions are terribly easy: That I agree to accept the property as is (I do! I do!). That I agree to operate the business as a country inn and restaurant for a period of at least one year after transfer of the property (I do! I do!). That I agree to maintain the inn and guest house as “white buildings” (meaning, I assume, white in color) with forest green roofing and shutters and to pay any costs or fees necessary on noncompliance of the above – another puzzle for me to come back to. The picture of the inn on the Web page shows the building to be quite white with the specified color for the roofing and shutters. What fees could crop up due to noncompliance in that regard? Why specify all this? Is a massive sky drop of some inky hue expected soon?

As for what I will be winning, I looked that over very carefully. Not only will I be getting the fabulous property described above; I will also get a check for $20,000, although I don’t know why and I only get it if at least 7,500 entrants entered the contest. (They do say they may run the contest if they don’t get the minimum, one of those discretionary judgment calls, I guess, but my winnings wouldn’t include the 20 thou).

On winning, my duties for the property will begin right away, which is no problem; I can’t wait to shoulder them. They include assuming sole responsibility for any and all taxes, including real estate transfer taxes, lawyer’s fees, and fees of any kind imposed upon or arising out of a successful participation in the essay contest. (That one I don’t understand, either; what fees can they possibly require me to assume for my successful participation in their contest?) If I refuse to accept the prize property in writing, the first runner-up has to pay all taxes and fees. If the first runner-up refuses the prize property in writing, the second runner-up has to pay. If the second runner-up refuses, does the property revert to the people running the contest? And if so, will they return the $937,500 in entry fees they accumulated from their 7,500 or so entrants? It doesn’t say. But no worries about any of this. I don’t know why they even mention it. Further down it says there are no liens, taxes, or mortgages due on the property, that it is a turnkey operation complete with furnishings and equipment. That means I can take possession in the morning and be serving dinners by candlelight that evening.

Which brings me to one consideration that I must think over carefully. This thing is a business, with a restaurant and two dining rooms. Meals are served at least twice a day to guests staying in the seven guest rooms and any that happen to drive by and stop in. I’ll need a staff for this, won’t I? A business manager might not be a bad idea, at least as I start out, and someone to run the dining rooms and kitchen since I have no experience with such things. Or would I need two people, one to run the kitchen and one to supervise the dining rooms? Why did there have to be two dining rooms? If I wait tables myself, I’ll be able to keep personnel numbers down, at least until I determine my average revenue. I’m going to need something to do, and the exercise would do me good. At least I can count on Mother Nature to be the groundskeeper. But is the 12 acres of Mother Nature around me insured?

Oh I almost forgot, after I win and take over the property and have my lucrative inn humming along, the contest sponsors want to use the barn for storage for six months. But I don’t see how that could be any problem. I’m ready for my new life. And now, to the essay.