Safecracking

The story of my political history is not particularly boring. But, in most respects, it is of interest only to me and to those who love me. Still, I've shared some of my story before. Some readers have heard parts of it.

It is that history that informs my writing today.

As a much younger man, in a time when 18-year-olds had just been given the right to vote (and to drink, coincidentally, although I remained a teetotaler until I was nearly 21), I became quite heavily involved in politics as a youth chairman for a statewide campaign. In college, being naturally political, I was drawn further into the web of politics.

In many ways those were terribly exciting years. ALL of my education was aimed toward politics and public service. In politics I saw nobility expressed and I saw people destroyed. At a certain point, I recognized that my own involvement in politics threatened my soul. I measured myself and determined that I was unwilling to risk my soul in that game. I did not possess the maturity or the strength to resist its temptations. I did not enjoy the necessity of recalibrating my conscience every day, checking the lodestar of my own morality, and justifying what I could do with what I should do.

So I retired from the game. It's a retirement that has persisted to this day.

That does not mean that I ceased to care. It doesn't mean that I quit paying attention, stopped learning, or lost those political skills. I simply retired from the professional ranks to become an ardent amateur.

When I became a New Albanian, it became almost immediately important for me to learn the local political ropes. I wasn't, frankly, expecting to have to do so, but events required it. Out of necessity, then, I became the most inquisitive newcomer around. I asked questions about local and state government of anyone who would give me the time. And I paid attention. I put in the time, did my research, and sought to identify potential allies and prospective foes.

It was a little like cracking a safe. The ability to unlock the code requires painstaking attention. But ultimately, the tumblers fell and abracadabra, the doors to the safe began to open.

Of course, inside each safe is another safe. Cracking them all is neither possible nor sane. But neither is stopping the work an option.

Here, however, is where I differ from the prototypical safecracker. Unlike the criminal variety, I have no fear of discovery. I lack that fear because I'm not keeping secrets. When the door to the safe falls open, I begin to read what's inside - aloud.

Call me names. Despise me. But I won't stop cracking the safes. And I won't stop reading their contents aloud.

The reason this blog is public is to keep me honest. By "reading aloud," I expose my analysis to the light of day and if it is misguided or flat wrong, I expect you, the readers, to point out where my "translation" skills are weak. Hell, maybe I'm just so old that my eyes don't work anymore.

I'll keep reading aloud so that in New Albany, this maxim will hold true: Reading Allowed.