If you were experiencing a shortage of politicians in your hometown Saturday, it was because they all swooped down on the Town of Gifford this weekend like a pack of buzzards on a flat armadillo.
Now, I'm not insinuating that in an election year a Southern politician loves a good parade like a tornado loves a trailer park, or like a hound dog loves a ham bone, but there were so many folks in the June Fest parade waving, shaking hands, and asking for votes that I had to stop counting or risk taking off my shoes for the extra digits.
With the June 8 Primaries just around the corner, I knew there would be more politicians - and wannabe politicians - than a voter could shake a stick at, so I brought my wife and son along with me to the big city of Gifford to photograph the event, and I advised them to tote along a big bag for candy and plenty of hand sanitizer.
"Be sure to wash your hands good when we leave here, because it's a well-known fact that most politicians carry germs," I advised the kid, from my years of newspapering experience. "And some of them are downright poisonous."
While Mommy was more interested in sweating and frizzing up in the June heat that in the election or the parade, the boy showed a high level of interest in the electoral process.
"Daddy, what's a politician?" he asked.
"Well, son," I replied, trying to be clever, "A politician is someone who promises you the moon and the stars and all the tea in China, and then forgets about you for the next four years."
"So a politician is kind of like a husband?" the six-year-old smart aleck replied.
There is nothing more unattractive and distracting to a photographer shooting a parade than a sweaty, frizzy wife who can't stop laughing uncontrollably in the middle of a Gifford street.
But I was right about the political candidates. Even Rob Miller was there, and he shook my son's hand.
"Quick, honey, go get the hand sanitizer! Don't let him touch his face!"
I was expecting to see Joe Wilson coming right after him, yelling "You Lie!", but it was only another slew of local candidates riding on top of cars and trucks. And did I see someone in a boat, or was it just a heat mirage?
And I was right about the candy. The kid racked up. In addition to a Piggly Wiggly sack full of sweet-tooth treats, he scored a Gordon Rhoden paper fan, a Steve Jarrell fan, a Frisbee from some blurry-faced candidate (they were coming so fast I couldn't make them all out), and a lollipop with Ernie Washington's face on it. Mr. Washington, you got my vote for the best candy and the coolest hat in the parade, by the way. (Sorry, I wish I could tell you all who got my vote in the election, but a journalist must keep his secrets.)
And for some strange reason at least three people approached me after the parade asking me, "Are you Steve Jarrell?" Perhaps because we both have thinning hair and wear glasses some folks must have thought we looked alike. If that's the case Mr. Steve gets my vote as one of the most handsome candidates in the whole parade. (No offense, Mr. Gordon, you're a pretty nice looking dude yourself. And Mr. Ernie, I really loved that hat.)
But I had better quit while I'm ahead, before it sounds like I am either degrading candidates or endorsing candidates, which is something a good journalist should never do. So sorry, I can't befriend any of you guys on Facebook until after the election is official and I won't vandalize any political signs unless they get too close to my lawnmower.
But I can keep your candy. And in the meantime, y'all keep those promises.