A second three fifths

We had not heard from anyone in Henson in more than forty years. When it was announced that their first emissary would arrive to the White House, there was nothing else anyone could talk about. Would our salvation come from the dark, cold state?

Four decades of silence from the great north. For most of that time, most people thought very little of Henson. We had our own issues to deal with. And they were mercifully out of sight.

Of course, some of our senior citizens missed them. Those gray haired retirees dressed up like them every June 19th. They did the elaborate handshakes and listened to the traditional Henson music- disco, funk, soul, hip-hop, blues. They made mac and cheese. And they shared stories of the people they remembered. The friends, the lovers, the coworkers (but very few neighbors) that left them for Henson.

Forty years earlier, during February of the tri-centennial, a bipartisan agreement was reached. Any descendant of our worst institution could elect to receive $237,000 in a lump sum. In exchange, these Hensoners renounced their citizenship, all claims to property and tax overages, and accepted a one way ticket to what was once a 44 million acre national park in the interior of Alaska.

There were very few surprises for who took this deal. Nearly everyone eligible in Mississippi, Michigan, Alabama, Louisiana, and Illinois, signed the paperwork and left for the first flight to Anchorage. More people left Atlanta than expected- but Clayton County was easily emptied. There were holdouts, of course. Almost no one that golfed at Falls Road or John A. White decided to travel north. None of the stars left. The former president, the Supreme Court justice, all the tv judges, the professional athletes, Flo-rida, and most of their doctors, lawyers, and investment bankers stayed. Our country had been good to them and they repaid us with their loyalty. In total, a little more than 60% of everyone who qualified, took the deal within the first eighteen months. A second three fifths.

My 10th grade history class covered a chapter on the Henson compromise. The first few years after they left was a boon time for our grandparents. Union memberships skyrocketed. There was a renewed investment to public works and public transportation and public housing and public pools. Those early Post-Henson congresses were Scandinavian in their ambitions for a better, fairer, America.

The good times were short lived. Someone still needed to clean the infirm. Someone still needed to pack the packages, deliver the goods, chauffeur and change diapers. But those someones were no longer cheap and disposable — so the costs of all things inflated. A dollar became a penny, a Franklin was worth a Washington, and one Big Mac was a four-figure indulgence relegated to the specialest of occasions for most people.

Without Hensoners, the country turned in on itself- pulling at its bootstraps and reifying those forgotten ethnic divisions. People remembered if your great grandmother was from Poland or your great great grandfather was Irish, and this was enough to mark you, and place you among those with the power to define or those defined.

A few of the poorly defined, sought refuge abroad. We all heard a few tall tales about the rare bird who flew north to Henson. But those people never came back south and never reported back. They disappeared into a frozen Roanoke.

We were hopeful. I was hopeful, that the woman from Henson had a solution. I wanted her to save us. I prayed as I streamed the press conference.

The Hensoner towered over our president. Both he and the podium seemed to cower in the rose garden. She was still and dressed in a pantsuit of a velveteen forest green that shimmered a bit when she moved. Her teeth pearly white, made slightly feral with a single gold fang. She spoke.

“I will not repeat this message. I represent the people of Henson. Today, we are offering you a choice. Your president, your Senate and House of Representatives, your governors and their state governments, will leave office in the next 24 hours. Your government officials will be replaced by members of the Henson chamber. If you accept this arrangement, you will be accepted into Henson with full rights and privileges. If you fail to comply with this option, we will erase you.”

And with that, the White House vanished, leaving only the the Henson woman, with a proud smirk and our president, with a face stark white. What was once a stairway of stone and wood was now a clear view to Pennsylvania Avenue.

And so began the war of Northern Aggression.