This November, while Democrats and Republicans are vying for strategic electoral positions such as State Governor, Senator, or Representative, my family’s focus is on a local race for Constable in, shall we say Mayberry,Kentucky for all intents and purposes. My father is running for District Constable against the Incumbent, a rather elderly gentleman who has held the position, unchallenged, for many, many years. At least, the man or his father before him has occupied the position for the last 25 years, so it’s been a bit of a dynasty. Anyhow, the man has never had to campaign and has found himself in a race against a master campaigner who is very motivated to snag the position.
“What is a Constable, anyway?” you ask. Very good question. It’s pretty much an elected official with authority that is nearly equal to that of Sheriff. Yep, meet my Dad. Although he is best known for his occupations of business owner and salesman, former pastor of a small country church, has even worn the hat of writer having a few articles published in various neighborhood publications, a lesser known occupation (volunteer) that he has held in the past has been that of county police chaplain.
“What does a police chaplain do exactly?” you ask. Another good question. A police chaplain works as a kind of a peace officer who councils with the bereaved at the scene of an accident, or notifies loved ones if a family member was killed in fatal auto accident, or helps direct the wayward homeless person to the appropriate shelter, or helps watch kids while their parents are being questioned after a domestic violence incident- these types of things. All very noble jobs and all jobs that my father is well-suited for, given that he always knows the right thing to say in difficult situations.
Dad’s evolution from interest in law studies to an interest in law enforcement was noted first when he insisted on getting a police scanner for our home while I was in college. Lucky for me I went away to college, so the only time I ever got pulled over for speeding I was off radar; my brother, on the other hand, not so lucky. Anyhow, the next phase was the CB radio installed in the car. Why was this necessary? God only knows. But eventually the fantasy became a bit more of a reality, as during his stint as police chaplain, he was equipped with a uniform complete with hat and badge AND an unmarked police car. Yup. Once, when I was visiting, I got to ride in the back of the car on the way to my sister’s wedding dinner. Problem is, if someone doesn’t remember to open the car door for you to let you out, you’re stuck there ‘til someone comes to the rescue. I learned this the hard way. Heard the dinner was amazing.
Kidding. They did hear my screaming in time to let me out to eat.
In any case, the highlight of my father’s police chaplain days lies in a story of how he assisted with the county’s largest marijuana bust in recent days. Of course, I only have his version of the story, so in this version, he was doing a ride-along with another actual police officer when things were getting a little boring. In attempt to meet a quota of traffic stops, they were looking to pull someone over when my father spies a car that turns at a stoplight without using a turn-signal. My father suggests the cop pull the driver over and ticket for this. Again, mind you, this is Mayberry we’re talking about. So, they pull over the driver and it just so happens that the driver thinks he’s being pulled over for the huge stash of pot he’s driving around in the trunk. He acts very funny and guilty with the officer. So, the officer questions him about where he’s been, where he’s going…blah, blah, blah….He was driving from Cincinnati…blah, blah, blah…The officer then decides to question the female in the passenger seat, separately, away from the driver. Since the stories don’t match up and the couple is highly suspicious, they call in the plate and such and end up searching the vehicle to find the stash and the two get busted. Surprising, I know, when you consider that marijuana is probably Kentucky’s second largest cash crop, but in any case, a DRUG BUST.
If my father could still be a police chaplain, he would be. He got bumped from the job when a new P.D. Chief took over and wanted to hire his own church pastor for the position. So, needless to say, he is chomping at the bit for the elected position of Constable to be as much of a cop as a person can be without getting too much in harm’s way. He has been campaigning like a madman to overthrow the ‘dynasty’. Going door to door, handing out refrigerator magnets with cooking measurement conversions, passing out flyers. His slogan? If you can’t name the person who’s been your District Constable for the last 25 years, don’t you think it’s time for a change? HA. Hilarious. He knows full well that most people don’t know what the hell a Constable even is, much less, who it is.
Mom just emailed today to say that George, the opponent, just started getting nervous that he might not win this time, so he put up some campaign signs of his own for the first time ever. Dad, however, happened to notice that George’s signs do not meet the regulations for political campaign signage (my father is actually in the sign business, so this is something he’s up on.) So, Dad emailed George to inform him of this, before calling and reporting him to the State Electoral Regulations office. So, the Regulations office called George this morning to say, if he doesn’t take down the signs or correct them, he will be subject to a fine. Ah, politics….
Guess its GAME ON in Mayberry for the Constable race.
I do hope Dad wins, not just because he’s eager and qualified, but also because it will indirectly affect the ambiance of Thanksgiving dinner at home.
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