Bob

Batz

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November 12, 2007

Vote for Me, Bill; I Mean It, Bruce

I’ve never paid much attention to politicians.

I’m that way because I’m never sure quite sure of their sincerity. Take what happened the other day.

A guy who will soon be running for office visited my town and I ran into him at a local park.

“Hey,” the politician shouted at the top of his lungs, “How’s it going? Recognized you from your picture in the newspaper.” He grabbed my hand and pumped it one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine times.

“Good to see ya,” he said. “How’s Sherry? The kids? The dog? Your left ear?”

That’s when I told him my wife’s name is Sally, not Sherry.

“Of course, of course,” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

After he quit shaking my hand, he noticed several other people standing nearby and declared in a voice loud enough to be heard in Waterloo, Iowa, “You have some really nice people living in this town, Bill.”

“The name’s Bob,” I replied and he went right on. “Nice town, this Bellbrook,” he said.

“You mean Brookville,” I told him.

“Yeah, right,” he said, “Brookville. Little slip of the tongue there. Say, wasn’t somebody real famous born here?”

I thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Unless maybe you mean Sam Spitler.”

“Spitler . . . Spitler . . . yes, that’s the name. Played for the Reds, didn’t he? Helluva shortstop if I remember right.”

I shook my head.

“Of course,” he said, “Sam Spitler. He fought at the Alamo, right?”

“Don’t think so,” I told him. “But he was the first person in Brookville to install a flush toilet in his house. And while that might not seem like a big deal these days, I guess it was pretty special back then.”

“Sure, sure, Sam Spitler, flush toilet” the politician said. “Dumb me. How could I forget?”

After a short pause, he said, “Well, Brad, how’s the wife and five kids?”

“The wife and four kids are fine,” I told him.

“Good, good, good,” the politician bellowed. “You may have heard I’m running for election come November.”

“Yes,” I told him, “It’s been in all the papers.”

He grabbed my hand again.

“The reason I mention it, Bruce, is I’m hoping I can count on your vote on election day. Every vote counts, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” I replied.

“Good, good, good,” he said, roaring laughter. “Well, Ben, good to see ya. I read your column every day in the paper. Great stuff. Keep up the good work.”

He started to walk away, and then turned to face me again. “Sam Spitler installed the first flush toilet in town, huh? I coulda swore he discovered electricity.”

© 2007 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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