Representative Mumford T. Bumford (Bum to his friends) loved serving in the Mississippi Legislature. He wasn’t sure if it was the free lunches, free dinners or occasional free breakfast. But he knew that his waistline had grown more in the past four years than his rural, hilly district. It was afternoon, the House was just starting to get to work — he had to pass some bills putting more “guv’mnt” in the lives of the folks. He had spoken to the local Rotary at lunch preaching about the evils of guv’mnt. If he had thought about it, Bum would have noticed the irony of preaching against himself. But irony was a word Bum didn’t worry about much. There were good legislators in the Mississippi Legislature. Bum wasn’t one of them.
His opponent in the last election had come up with the catchy slogan, “Throw the Bum out.” If the poor fool had been in the right party, he might have had a chance doing just that. But politics were politics and Bum was able to hide behind the accomplishments of others and raise a bunch of money. He won a squeaker and got to go back to Jackson. Like the Honeybadger, Bum didn’t really care. He liked the per diem, the mileage, the lobbyist paid-for dinners and being away from his wife for four days a week. Bum prayed for Special Sessions. The Legislature was his full-time part-time job.
The Gold Eagle on the top of the Capitol had a better chance of flying off into the sunset than Bum ever being in the leadership. He secretly pined for a leadership position, but he knew the Speaker was on to his game. So he sat in the back and soaked up the perks of the job.
He’d walk down the halls of the Capitol and would swear the portraits of the Governors were mocking him. What did they know anyway? Who needed the Governor’s Mansion anyway. Although he’d love the pardon power. And the state plane. That’d make going to a bowl game to see Ole Miss, State or Southern Miss that much easier.
The representative from the district next to his hustled past his desk with a pile of papers. “Amateur,” Bum scoffed. The boy was a freshman and had high ideals about improving education, Medicaid and whatever cause of the day he got suckered into. Bum took a sip of his free coffee and started wishing it was deer season again. He felt the warmth of the Chamber wrap her arms around him. Sleep visited him. He soon started nodding off.
A tap on the shoulder woke Bum up.
“Wake up Bum.” It was the ghost of his father. His father had been a long-time legislator, Secretary of State, Auditor and then Governor.
Bum peed a little in his pants. His father had died 30 years ago of a massive heart attack. Too much free fried catfish dinners had been his downfall. To say his appearance was unexpected would be to say that Katrina was destructive.
“Boy, I ought to turn you over my knee. You’re pissin’ away the chance to make a difference in this state. You tell your constituents lies, boy. Lies. You say you love Mississippi and then you don’t do squat. You’re in power, boy. Here me? Power.”
Bum, not a big fan of being preached to by dead fathers, woke up. He knocked his coffee over on a bill that was sitting on his desk. “I gotta go to the little Legislator’s room,” Bum announced to no one.
He walked out of the chamber door again and there was his father’s ghost again, blocking his way. The ghost pointed his finger at Bum’s chest. Bum felt his heart grow cold.
“Boy, I’m not done with you.” The Ghost took his son to his district 20 years in the future.
Hydrogen cars whirred past on the four-lane highway that ran by the plant. Except the plant wasn’t there. It had left for China ten years ago. The local high school was run down and men walked down the street with no place to do. Bum and the ghost walked down the street into the small down that was the county seat. Businesses were shuttered. It was high-noon and the square was as quiet as a tomb. “Where is everyone?” Bum asked his father. The sky was gray and the buildings were devoid of any color.
“They left when the jobs left. You know how I felt about Guv’m’nt. I hated it as much as you say you do. But these folks didn’t need Guv’m’nt. You gave them Gov’m’nt. They needed leadership, son. Your leadership.”
“But how?”
A car ran through the ghost, scaring the crap out of Bum, who had to jump out of the way.
“Engage, son. Work with the business leaders. Help the kids in school learn to love education. Be an example. Recruit industry. Do what you can on the floor of the House to help your folks. Commit your life to your community. They’ve committed to you by re-electing you. Quit proposing only show legislation just to pander.”
Bum, thinking he must still be asleep, tried to wake up. But he couldn’t. This must be gas from the free lunch he had eaten a couple of hours ago.
“Show some backbone, son. And no, this is not a dream.” His dad’s ghostly finger poked Bum in the chest again.
Suddenly the colors brightened. Downtown was vibrant. Industry had appeared. Small businesses flourished in their town.
“What happened?” Bum asked. “Why is it nicer?”
Because this is what it will look like if you will get off your butt and get to work.
Bum woke up when the Speaker slammed down his gavel. He looked down at the legislation in front him and for the first time in ages, read it. Like Maverick at the end of Top Gun, Bum Bumford engaged in the fight. Sure, he’d still enjoy a free meal with the best of them. But he had work to do. He’d prove that one man can make a difference — even a Bum.
As he walked down the halls of the Capitol that night, Bum stopped and looked at the portrait of his father hanging on the wall. And for the first time, he notice a slight smile on the old man’s face. Bum said, “Thanks dad,” and headed out to dinner. And at that moment a lone Mississippi legislator began on a path of making a huge difference in the state he loved.