Beech Tree News Network

Renegade:Up until the 2006 election for governor of Texas, I had never stolen anything in my life.  The silhouette of a Jewish cowboy on a gold pink and green campaign poster would prove to be the temptation beyond that which I was able to bear.  

During the two years that I lived in Texas (2006 – 2008), I learned to appreciate the culture and the people of the state.  There are some real characters who live there.  One of my favorites is Kinky Friedman.  Kinky started out as a musician, singing songs with lyrics like, get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.  He moved into politics some years later (a reasonable progression if you’re a Texan), and decided to throw his hat into the ring for governor of that great state in 2006.

In Texas, some of the polls are located  in churches; the Presbyterian Church was the election site for my district.  I was so excited about getting to vote in the governor’s race, and I remember that day like it was yesterday.  I showed up early, but still had to wait in line.  I took my paper ballot and pen, sat at a small table, and voted for a musician for governor of Texas.  As I left the church, I said to myself, “It can’t get any better than this.”  As I drove down Broadway, the main thoroughfare in Galveston, I second-guessed that thought.

The median on Broadway was covered with campaign posters.  Kinky Friedman’s was by far the most interesting.  I thought about what I was about to do for all of ten seconds before wheeling my car into the Big Lots parking lot.  I sprinted across the lot and two lanes of traffic into the median.  I plucked the poster from its place and raced back to my car.  I drove back to my apartment and positioned the poster on the wall so that my daughter, Nikki, would see it when she opened the door.  

I called Garey to tell him what I had done.  
“Did anybody see you?” he asked.  
“Yes, hundreds of people,” I said, “It was wonderful.”  
“You realize you could have been arrested,” he reminded me.  
“I thought about that,” I said, “But I reasoned that if I had been arrested, the news would have picked up the story, and Kinky would have made my bail.”

When Nikki got home, she was even less supportive than Garey.  “Mom, I can’t believe you did that after the sermon you preached Naonna and me over those stupid reflectors!” she said.  (The reflectors to which she referred were the ones she and her cousin had taken from peoples’ driveways when she was in high school.  I had told them both that taking the reflectors wasn’t a prank, it was theft, and I had made sure they returned them.)  I went to bed that night feeling like the hypocrite I was.

Kinky Friedman didn’t win the governor’s race, but the following year, he did write a book about his campaign experiences called You Can Lead A Politician To Water But You Can’t Make Him Think (Simon & Schuster).  He decided that he wanted to do the book release at the Hastings Entertainment Center in Galveston.  I was the book manager for Hastings at the time, so I had a lot to coordinate before we would be ready for an event of that size.  The book release and signing was slated for October, 18, 2007, so I spent the month of September ordering and organizing.

I got up early on the morning of the eighteenth.  The festivities wouldn’t start until 7 pm, but there was a lot to take care of before then. Before I left the apartment, I took the campaign poster from its hallowed spot on my foyer wall and put it into the trunk of my car.  Once at the store, the people in my department and I started setting up.  We put up one table for Kinky’s books and one for his CDs.  We also set up a table for refreshments, as well as a table for Kinky to sit and greet his supporters.  We were expecting people to be lined up onto the sidewalk, so we set up parameters for crowd control as well.  We were ready.

Kinky arrived at 6 pm.  I ushered him to the break room, and made sure he had something to drink and an ashtray for his cigar.  Now that everything was in order, I knew what I had to do.  I walked out to my car, opened the trunk and removed the campaign poster.  I carried it nervously to the break room.  Kinky stood as I entered the room.

“Mr. Friedman,” I started.  
“It’s Kinky,” he said.
“Kinky,” I began again, “This is the only thing I’ve ever stolen in my life.”  I handed him the poster.
“Well then,” he laughed, “I guess you’ll be wanting me to sign that for you.”  He took the poster, sat down at the break table and wrote For Cheryl, God Bless Texas! Kinky Friedman  10-18-07.

I still have that poster.  It’s framed and hanging on my wall here in Kentucky.  It is a reminder of a different life.  A life in which I was a poster-stealing renegade who got a tip of the hat from a would-be Jewish Cowboy Governor.   

   

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