I got a call a few days back from my old friend Bubba back home.
This was most fortuitous because previously that same day, I was out walking and heard my name called from across 6th Street. It was a fellow who was standing just outside a local watering hole named Bobby G’s. After exchanging pleasantries, he informed me that he wanted to hear from Bubba. I said I would try.
I couldn’t be more definitive than that. The problem is that Bubba’s been pretty cagey these days. When I write about our conversations, he feels kind of exposed. He’s been thinking about maybe taking a run for public office one of these days and so has been afraid of having his beliefs too widely known.
“Because the one thing politicians don’t want you to ever know is what they really believe,” he told me.
So when he called, I was kind of surprised.
“Hello there,” I said. “It’s been too long. Have you decided not to run for public office?”
There was a pause on the other end. And then came an answer so ... well... so grammatical that I couldn’t believe it was Bubba.
“Not run for public office,” he said. “Well, whatever do you mean?”
Huh? I thought. Then I said, “The last time we spoke, you said that you were thinking of running for public office and were afraid of being quoted on some of the things you said.”
Again there was a pause.
“While it is interesting that you remember it that way,” he said, “I cannot say that I recall that particular conversation and so I cannot affirm that statement.”
This was getting ridiculous.
“Is this because I sometimes report on our conversations in the newspaper?” I asked.