28 Miles from Prosperity

The following is a true story that took place just days ago. It is a short anecdote, unlike my usual columns. Nevertheless, I think you will find it amusing.

As I was making my way to my State’s capitol recently, I stopped in a small town for lunch. I exited the interstate on to a rickety road, and started searching for a restaurant. A couple miles later, the road ran into a dead end, and I had to turn left or right. None of this so far is anything surprising, but then I noticed a sign at the end of that road.

As I stopped at the stop sign, I looked up and saw a green road sign with white letters staring back at me. Only two towns adorned the sign: one was to the left and the other to the right. Fittingly, the town to the left was named Clinton, and the directional arrow next to the town name informed me I was 22 miles from there. The name of the other town struck me first as odd, then ironic, then hilarious, and finally, sobering.

The distance to the other town was six miles. The arrow on the sign pointed me to the right. As for the name of that town—the place you can’t go if you go to Clinton, the place that by driving toward it you are presupposing leaving Clinton—was, believe it or not, Prosperity. Oh, if I’d only had a camera! In a geographic sense—and I believe it to be analogous—Clinton and Prosperity were mutually exclusive. You can’t have one AND the other.

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