“The White House is demolishing the entirety of the East Wing to make way for President Trump’s $200 million ballroom, a construction project that is far more extensive than he initially let on, a senior administration official said on Wednesday.” — New York Times
– – –
Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny were busy cleaning their grandfather’s gutters when he made an announcement.
“Children, we’re going to Washington, DC, to see the White House!”
“Oh, gee,” exclaimed Benny, “I’ve always wanted to visit a castle!”
“Silly Benny,” said Violet softly, “the White House isn’t a castle. It’s the temporary home of our democratically elected president.”
– – –
As soon as Grandfather checked them into the fanciest hotel in Washington (which was owned by an old friend of Grandfather’s), the children rented some bikes to ride around the city. They were hoping to start with a tour of the White House.
When they pulled up to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the children’s faces fell. An excavator was parked outside the East Wing. A large portion of the building had been completely demolished, and important-looking documents floated in the air. Sensitive Violet started coughing as she inhaled the construction dust. The children rushed to grab as many documents as they could and stuffed them into their pockets.
It was then that a group of armed men in uniform approached. “Children, you need to leave the premises immediately,” they shouted. “No tours today. Government shutdown.”
“It’s our only warning!” Benny shrieked before being shushed by the older children. They quickly rode away.
– – –
A few minutes later, the children pulled up to the Lincoln Memorial. They unpacked the sloppy joe sandwiches they’d prepared that morning and began to wonder about what they had seen as they ate the lunch.
“How could someone just destroy a historical building like that?” Jessie wondered.
“You know, I’ve been reading a lot of news,” said Henry, “I’m starting to think that there’s something wrong in Washington. Our nation used to run on norms and values, and now it seems as though they’ve been totally disregarded.”
“Seems like a new mystery!” Jessie exclaimed. “But who could have made this happen? Perhaps it was that sinister short dark-haired man I saw making a funny saluting gesture from inside the house?”
“Or maybe it was the lady with a pretty new face who hates puppies?” Benny suggested.
“It couldn’t be that elderly retiree with the pronounced neck wattle,” Violet added softly. “Someone that weak wouldn’t be strong enough to drive an excavator. Or could he?”
“Well, word is he’s demanding $230 million from the Department of Justice for hurting his feelings,” Henry said. “If he can get away with that, he can probably get away with anything.”
“Or maybe it’s just Americans who are to blame!” Benny yelled.
The children laughed nervously. Then they remembered the documents. One by one, they laid them out in a row. Nuclear launch codes, wire transaction receipts, and a large pamphlet titled PROJECT 2025. They grew more puzzled as they read each doc. The scope of this mystery seemed as though it might be too big for even the children to solve.
What were “norms” anyway? Was it really the responsibility of these four children to solve every mystery for the adults?
“Remember when we lived in a boxcar, and what good times we had?” Violet asked.
“I sure do.” Henry replied, “Things were so much easier when we only had to rely on ourselves, and not get mixed up with the complicated transgressions of grown-ups.”
“Sometimes I think we ought to go back,” Jessie said.
“Especially since our new school was shut down because of the defunding of the Department of Education!” Benny shouted. “Let’s just keep teaching ourselves.”
“You’re right, Benny,” Jessie agreed, “And it’s not like Grandfather needs us, let alone Social Security or Medicare, to survive, thanks to his well-earned investment interests.”
“Well done, Benny,” Violet echoed. “Let’s go.”
And no one ever found out what ever became of the Boxcar Children—or the United States of America.
