BCC Oath and Reality

Following November's election, either three or five people will stand in front of Mahogany Row on the fourth floor of the County Administration Building, raise their right hands (if they're not dyslexic) and swear an oath to, by God, do the best job they can in their new jobs as County Commissioners. Usually, they take a minute or two posing for pictures, then grab a seat in their new big, leather chair.

Between the pictures and their first official fanny print, there should be another step in the inaugural process. While the red and yellow dots from the photo flash are still swirling about on their retinas, each new County Commissioner should be grabbed about their shoulders by the largest citizen volunteers available (should be the easiest-to-fill volunteer assignments in local government history) and shaken until they return to reality.

Yep, I'm thinking about guys like from my old days in the mid-'80s as a local sportswriter. Some volunteers like Middleburg High's offensive tackle, Pat Tomberlin, who strapped shoulders pads onto his 6-4, 320-pound frame. Or Orange Park High School wrestler Tim "Tiny" Floyd. Tiny's weight fluctuated from a lot to a whole lot.  He once packed on about 20 pounds over the Christmas school holiday. His dad told me Tiny's mom cooked two turkeys and a ham for Christmas and the next day Day couldn't make a sandwich.

That's the type folks I want shaking the reality back into the new County Commissioners. Big guys who can give 'em a four-year reality shake.

By the time the images of the photo flash disappears, the sworn-in synapses should have stopped shaking, and each individual public servant should remember these realities ...

1. Despite the really cool chairs, co-starring on an extremely low-rated basic cable TV show every couple of weeks, and folks now introducing you as "Commissioner" instead of "Mr.," "Miss," "Mrs." or "Ms.," you ain't nuttin' special, at least not any more special than every single one of your constituents.

You won an election, but that just makes you someone hired to do a special job - a job, by the way, that was special before you got it and will be special after you leave it in two, four or eight years (assuming each of you can stay out of jail and the court house that long.) It is, and will remain, more important than you, so try not to screw it up.

2. Sometimes you lead and we'll follow, sometimes we lead and you'll follow. When deciding which to do, re-consider Reality No. 1. If you're still undecided and want some practical political advice, give Harold a call.

3. Those numbers you toss around are real dollars that real Clay County citizens really worked really hard to get before you took them away from us. See our penny? Pinch it tight enough to leave your newly-official fingerprint on it before you spend it. (Don't make us call Tiny, Pat and the other volunteers to remind you of this reality during annual budget preparations!)

4. Stay the heck out of my bedroom, my church and my morals. You really don't belong there and you really aren't going to be welcome there anytime in the next four years.

5. Reality can't be viewed from the government out. So you don't lose the perspective of seeing reality from Clay County looking inward to government, once a month you should drive from, say, 200 and College Drive to Jacksonville between the hours of 7 and 8 a.m., returning between 4 and 6 p.m. And pay for your own gas, so you can join us burning bucks at every intersection with a traffic light.

6. Good roads, police and fire protection are the core realities of your new jobs as County Commissioners. Make sure you do those things well, then move on to the lesser priorities.

7. You folks are all pretty good talkers or you'd never have won an election. But when we do the talking, we want you to really listen to us, and answer our questions.

That's more'n a half-dozen realities, probably the maximum storage capacity resulting from a single session of Shaken Synapse Syndrome in politicians. There are plenty of other realities that politicians seem to forget as soon as they're sworn into office. Remember Reality No. 7 and we'll just mention them to you. Forget No. 7 and, well, we'll keep Pat and Tiny on speed dial.

Michael S. Mann

michaelsmann@comcast.net