Mr. Write's Page

Last week, I stopped in the Athens Walmart to buy a few things in the crafts department. Specifically, I needed paste, construction paper, colored feathers, and a package of googly eyes, so I could make a pinecone turkey.

Maddie, my seven-year-old granddaughter, thought we should exchange home-made gifts for Thanksgiving this year. We drew names, and I got Sarah, the four-year-old. Hence, the pinecone turkey.

I exited Walmart through the Garden Center in the back of the store, and as usual, there on his metal stool sat the security guy — he who checks your receipt to be sure you paid for those colored feathers and googly eyes.

The man has worked there for as long as I can remember. He is quite reticent; he may nod in greeting, but he rarely says anything. At some point, I learned that his name is Wayne.

As I approached, Wayne looked up and abruptly announced, “I think I have the solution.”

I paused and politely inquired, “The solution to what?”

“The solution to them damned politicians!” he asserted. “I figure it this way: before every election, we should have a recall election!”

I had to let that sink in for a minute.

“You mean,” I said finally, “Make them all face the voters in a special election and see who survives?”

“No, no,” he thundered. “No survivin’ to it! I mean just flat out recall ’em all — every damn one of ’em!”

It occurred to me that Wayne’s duties require him to spend a great deal of time perched on his metal stool — time that he apparently uses to ponder the problems of the world.

I can’t say that his solution had much depth to it, but he felt strongly about it.

The idea of holding an expensive recall election when the outcome was pre-ordained seemed like a shaky concept. I stroked my beard and nodded solemnly for a few seconds, trying to decide what to say.

“Maybe,” I said finally, “You could just limit all office-holders to one term. They serve one term, and that’s it — out they go. That way, there will be no more professional politicians.”

That idea just popped into my head. It was no more sensible than his, but it was all I had on short notice.

“Whatever works!” he said, vigorously waving his arms like a referee might signal time out, if seated on a metal stool. “They’re a sorry bunch, crooked as snakes! We need to get ’em down off their high horse!”

While Wayne was sputtering and waving, another Walmart Associate walked up. He was a longtime employee there, too. The staff in the Athens Walmart Garden Center doesn’t have much turnover.

The new arrival looked at me with a Cheshire cat grin and said, “Wayne is convinced he has the answer to our political troubles. Ain’t that right, Wayne?”

“It’s simple enough,” Wayne replied. “Recall ’em all!”

“You ought to run for office, Wayne,” his co-worker said. “We need good men who can straighten things out. Think about it. City Council, then maybe on to Congress!” He cackled gleefully.

“Shoot, no!” Wayne declared emphatically. “I don’t want to be no damn politician!”

His co-worker was just getting started. “Come on, Wayne, you’re a born idea man! You’d make a natural leader! Think of your country!”

Wayne responded with a scowl. The other fellow chuckled anew.

While they were preoccupied, I quietly disengaged and proceeded to the parking lot, clutching my Walmart bag with the components for making a pinecone turkey.