Serving Barnwell County and it's neighbors since 1852
When I was a little guy, I would lie on my back in the yard and look up at the clouds or the trees, searching for an answer to the question of the day. God, do you want me to start raising worms now so that when I open my bait shop, I’ll be ready?
I’m not sure I asked that particular question, although I did set up a small worm farm, one with moss. Cow manure, I discovered, works better.
I’m also not sure what God would have said, but I certainly could find the answer I wanted. Did you know there’s a Y for yes in every tree and, if you look hard enough, in many clouds?
Of course, it was a ridiculous exercise. But I was a dreamer back then, so looking at clouds and trees for spiritual guidance wasn’t that weird for me. I dug a hole into an embankment—my very own safe deposit box covered by a clump of grass—where I kept my valuables: pretty rocks, an old bracelet and several marbles.
I raised rabbits, kept two tiny turtles in a plastic dish and believed that a dog really was man’s best friend. My Grandmother Stevens hated dogs and dang near crippled Whitey, our rat terrier, when she kicked him and his female companion off the front porch while they were in the act of courting, so to speak.
I’ve enjoyed being with my family and friends, but there were times I’d just as soon be alone. Being in a crowd was OK, but being with a small group of friends was even better. I wanted to be a veterinarian, but ended up in the newspaper business.
So what do these revelations say about me? I don’t know. You don’t know either, and don’t care. But if I were running for president, you’d care. We want to know everything, it seems, about the person who will run our country. We even want to know if he or she is an extrovert or an introvert.
I once read a magazine story titled, “The Inside of Being an Introvert (And Why Extroverts Are Overrated).” The writer of the story must have been an introvert, someone who prefers to be alone or in small groups and is quickly exhausted by large social situations.
I don’t know if Trump and Harris are introverts or extroverts. All I know is they both like big crowds, mainly when they speak. They seem to be hung up on who has the bigger crowds. And, socially, they like social media.
Does it matter who’s introverted or extroverted? Probably not. There are many other more important things to consider.
Does it matter that a candidate used to be a stargazer, a lover of rabbits, turtles and dogs, a weird dude who hid marbles in a hole and who had a grandmother wanted by PETA? Probably not.
Fortunately, I’m not running. But you never know. It appears that nothing is impossible in the political world.
