What we really need in Washington
Capitol Hill is abuzz with as many new programs as fire ants in Alabama. Each politician scurries to make a statement, promising to fix all the problems, but I think they’re forgetting a few basics.
If we truly want to improve the country, let’s aim for something the people in our district actually need—like a Secretary of Family Dinners or an Officer of Movies You Can Watch With Your Mama. Others have quickly jumped on board, suggesting roles such as a Secretary of H.B.& S. (Hair Bows & Smocking) and, from somewhere near Wetumpka, a plea for a Secretary of Proper Monogramming. “These minivan decals have twisted the intention and ambiance of perfectly good initials!” Sally Beth complained.
But the real key to world peace isn’t diplomacy. What we truly need is… a Secretary of Packaging.
In what has become one of humanity’s greatest modern struggles, we can’t even open the things we buy. Consumer frustration is at an all-time high, not just with overtightened jar lids but the impenetrable plastic fortresses encasing every new gadget.
These packages are sealed tighter than the crown jewels, growing sharper with each desperate scissor jab.
Uncle Elmer knew this pain. This past Christmas, he wrestled with an extra-large Costco pack of AA batteries. Too proud to ask for help, he spent 20 minutes battling cardboard and plastic before admitting defeat, tossing the package across the counter, and declaring, “I give up.” Little Beau took over, and with his tiny fingers, had it open in minutes. Maybe children really are our future.
When my youngest son left for college, we bought a robotic lawnmower to replace him and a new set of pliers to keep in the kitchen. He drove away to Birmingham with a piece of my heart and his strong, helpful hands. I still miss that boy every time I struggle with a new jar of Wickles Pickles or a hard plastic-enshrined hairbrush.
Reports claim that over 6,000 people visit the hospital each year due to packaging-related injuries. Sliced tendons, eye injuries, and even severed fingers are real consequences of companies over-securing their products with wasteful, environmentally harmful plastic. Dentists surely have horror stories about those who never learned: “Don’t use your teeth as tools.”
The Secretary of Packaging could even oversee a subcommittee on over-boxing. Every doorstep delivery arrives with the promise of excitement, only to become a cruel joke—box inside a box, inside another box, and tape upon tape, until finally, after great effort, the grand prize is revealed: a stale pack of cookies or a pair of socks that hardly justified the anticipation and struggle.
Washington, take note. This is the kind of practical leadership America needs. With easy-open packaging, peace would spread like warm sunshine across the South—if only we had a Secretary of Packaging.
Now it’s time for you to think – what official government department would you add? Did I hear you say, Fashion Police?
If you live locally . . . this invitation is for you!
**Thank you to everyone who has subscribed to the newsletter (at the top of the page). These readers received a notification of this new post and an extra short story about a lady I met at a Valentine’s Day booksigning in Piggly Wiggly.
Just this morning John was attempting to wrangle a rabies tag onto the dog collar. He was attempting to hold the ring open with a very large knife while I put the tag in. I was muttering “you’re going to put my eye out” while he insisted he knew what he was doing (famous last words). Luckily, I am writing with vision intact. Years ago, my sister and I actually had tasteful silver pins that said Fashion Police and sat in the mall, being all judge-y. She drew the line at letting me take a ticket book!! Could we please have a Secretary of Award Shows and Super Bowl Entertainment? Again, something you wouldn’t be embarrassed to watch with your mama! Along with being judge-y, I am jealous you still have a Piggly Wiggly (is that 2 of the Deadly Sins?).
Roxanne, I’m laughing so hard, I don’t think I can even respond! The Department of Superbowl Halftime Show tops them all – oh my!!! I’m just going to give you my outline for the next few stories and let you take it from there! Thanks dear!
Leslie Anne, you always brighten my day! Hugs!!
You and Roxanne could do stand -up comedy together. Funny stuff…just wait until you get old and have arthritis in your hands. I cannot open anything. I do have a gadget that will unscrew caps and lids. Tonight I couldn’t open a pack of saltine crackers. We need a Secretary of Packaging, preferably a woman!
Like you, Roxanne is one of thos readers I’ve never met in person yet have found connections. We were in the same sorority at different schools and hold many of the same values. This internet thing is pretty cool! – and beware of the saltine cracker packs. They’re tricky!
Yes to the Secretary of Packaging! There definitely needs to be a Secretary of Fashion due to all the pajama wearing in public (why is this even a thing?). I would also like to see a Secretary of Common Sense.
Now you’re just dreaming!
Amen, you are speaking my utmost desire!!! Packaging these days is a nightmare!!
Careful, don’t cut yourself!
Being a boy mom you probably haven’t had the experience of unboxing the latest Barbie doll and her accessories from the pretty pink box. Not only is the box sealed like Fort Knox, the doll herself and every teeny tiny hairbrush, fashion accessory and article of clothing are either sewn to the cardboard backing or held in place by a twisted wire or zip tie that requires a strong set of wire cutters or possibly a blow torch to release each individual item. It’s so fun for your child to stand by expectantly as you cheerfully unbox their new toy…
Hey there Cathy – well, this is a new form of torture for me to hear about! I’ve chopped plastic clips to free Tonka Trucks, but haven’t visited the world of Barbie since I was a little girl. I don’t think they tied Barbie up back then. She free-ranged her camper and airplane. Why – oh – why??? Be careful!