Mr. Write's Page

When my friends on the political right go on a rant about government — you know, government is the problem, regulations are hindering the job creators, welfare freeloaders are bleeding the treasury dry, and other crap like that — I’m well aware that no amount of truth, logic, or evidence, will change their minds. No amount.

Bless their hearts, they have latched onto a thought that feels good and fits their preconceived notions. But the fact is, government is not a bad thing; it is a thing that can be good or bad, depending on how we manage it.

The problem isn’t government, but government that has become corrupt, apathetic, wasteful, or inefficient and gone off the rails.

Government is us. Government allows society to function. We simply need to stop squabbling and fix it.

There — I feel much better.

Here’s an example of government working the way it should. It happened in Jefferson several years ago. It had to do with street signs.

I live in a neighborhood called Hickory Hills, a modest enclave a bit north of town, off a thoroughfare with the memorable name of Jett Roberts Road.

(I have no idea who Jett Roberts is, or was, but he, or she, was important enough to have a street named after him. Or her.)

A year or so after I moved here, the city began replacing the street signs in my part of town. One day, shiny new street signs appeared all along Jett Roberts Road.

And I soon noticed a problem. The street sign at the entrance to my subdivision, at the intersection of Hickory Hills Drive and Jett Roberts Road, was incorrect. It said Jeff Roberts Rd.

Being a wordsmith, and being interested in such things, and being retired with lots of free time, I promptly drove the length of Jett Roberts Road to inspect the street signs.

All were correct except the sign at the entrance to my subdivision.

Now, I know nothing whatsoever about street signs. I don’t know how much they cost, or who manufactures them, or what happens in the event of errors.

My first thought was, will the city get the sign corrected?

My second thought: I hope they don’t. The error was a minor matter, unlikely to cause any confusion, surely not worth the cost of fixing it.

Naturally, over the weeks that followed, my eye went to the street sign every time I drove into or out of the subdivision. I couldn’t avoid it.

Then one morning, as I approached the intersection on my way to town, I saw a city truck parked at the corner. At the top of a ladder was a city worker, doing something to the sign.

I stopped and looked out of the car window, trying to see what he was doing.

The man was a typical city maintenance worker — middle-aged, portly, wearing khakis and a baseball cap. Stoically, he peered down at me and said, “Can I hep you?”

“Just wondered what you’re doing,” I said. “That’s the street sign that says Jeff Roberts.”

“Not any more,” said the man.

“Did you replace the sign?”

“No, no — them signs cost too much.”

He smiled a droll smile, held up a large folding knife that glinted in the sun, and said, “I did surgery on it.”

The man leaned back so I could get a better view.

His surgery consisted of cutting off the cross strokes from the two Fs in JEFF, then moving them to the tops of the letters, so that the Fs were transformed into Ts. Just like that, JEFF became JETT.

I gave the man an enthusiastic thumbs-up and drove away.

My hat is off to the Public Works Department of the City of Jefferson, for seeing a problem and solving it in a simple, sensible, effective manner.

Now, if only they could stop the school buses from driving on my border grass.