Author: The Ragged Edge

Way back when, when I published the newspaper in Taylor, we dreaded Friday night.

That’s when we could count on a visit from Williamson County Sheriff deputies — about the only time we could count on that. 

That was the night that Live PD aired and, it seemed, not an airing of that show ended that it didn’t include footage of some heinous crime committed by one of our residents. Not the crime, of course — WilCo deputies never showed up in a proactive role. But live video of the pursuit and subsequent capture of those responsible for all manner of nefarious crimes like faulty blinkers, he said — she said confrontations and, often, black or brown people smelling vaguely of burning marijuana were regularly featured on the show.

Come to think of it, most of the Taylor people WilCo deputies arrested on the show were black or brown.

It’s not that we didn’t want the WilCo SO’s help patrolling our streets or roving the country roads in the east part of the county — quite the contrary! Precautionary police presence has proven to have a salubrious impact on crime. It’s that … well, invariably, when a deputy was in Taylor on a Friday night, the end result was a very public black eye for the city.

Taylor is not a crime-ridden hell-hole. But, evidentially, it was a target-rich environment for the Live PD crews who accompanied WilCo deputies. 

This is why I was unsurprised at last week’s American-Statesman/KVUE exclusive report about how a WilCo SWAT team engaged in a completely unnecessary raid on a Cedar Park family’s home.

You see, the raid occurred only hours after WilCo deputies had a chance to arrest a man in court. The man, Asher Watsky, faced assault charges for fighting with his roommate. 

According to court records (and the story), police arrested Gary Watsky in September 2018 after his roommate said he was severely injured in an altercation. Police charged Watsky with assault family violence, and he was released on bond.

For seven months, Watsky showed up on time for court and met other conditions of his bond.

On May 2, 2019, Watsky showed up in court — as required. The Statesman article reported that he sat in that courtroom just a few feet from WilCo deputies and bailiffs where, if there had been a problem, he could have been easily and safely arrested.

Instead, a SWAT team, dressed in menacing tactical gear and bristling with all manner of high-powered weapons, showed up at Watsky’s peaceful Cedar Park home a few hours later, battered down the door and arrested him in front of his child.

And, a Live PD crew was on hand to film the excitement.

According to the story, WilCo sheriff officials routinely vetted cases that might produce the greatest amount of excitement then saved them for those days Live PD was in the county, even going so far and making sure arrest warrants were in hand and up to date.

To my mind, this just reinforces the impression I got every time WilCo deputies turned up in Taylor on a Friday night with Live PD camera crews in tow.

Truth is, I understand the entertainment value of live law enforcement action on television. I also understand that, when done properly, it can play a role in deterrence and in positive community relations.

But, too many of the stories we’ve heard about the relationship between Live PD and the Williamson County Sheriff’s Office are chilling. Deputies, who appear to have been chosen based on their loyalty to WilCo Sheriff Robert Chody rather than the precepts of community policing, played to the camera. And played UP to the camera.

It’s little wonder that, in its last iteration in WilCo, deputies kept Live PD film crews to a very small portion of the county — either the unincorporated parts of the county or that part of Austin that is actually inside our county. Not one city government welcomed Live PD crews inside their city limits.

Chody’s relationship with the TV show remains under intense scrutiny. This is only the most recent of a horrible spate of stories to come out of that office while Live PD crews were present — including at least five improper use-of-force cases.

And, now, issues surrounding Live PD’s involvement with the sheriff’s office have split county government into warring factions with Chody’s SO and County Attorney Dee Hobbs on one side and county commissioners and District Attorney Shawn Dick on the other. County Judge Bill Gravell is MIA.

Not to get too political or anything (gasp — a newspaper editor gets political?), but both the county attorney and the sheriff are up for re-election in November. Maybe THAT has something to do with these performances …

Nah. That would be playing to the local TV cameras.

Note: This column has been edited to correctly identify Asher Watsky was the person who WilCo deputies arrested, not Gary Watsky as previously stated.

It’s supposed to be boring, remember?

The process of making city government sausage is supposed to be boring. It’s not supposed to be a fast-moving, thrill-a-minute, train wreck that throws accountability and good sense under a partisan bus. (There are more clichès lying around here somewhere and I’ll use them soon. I promise.)

Boring. Boring. Boring.

One shouldn’t have to worry that a group of armed lunatics from out of town will crowd the entrance to the Cedar Park city council chambers to try and intimidate anyone who dares to enter, then dominate the public comments portion of the meeting with … Lord, I’ve watched the video and read Josh Moniz’s report but I cannot, for the life of me, fathom what they were trying to accomplish.

Dorian, Tim … we get it. You boys have a serious man-crush on Alex Jones and his ilk. Alex thrives on confrontation and flings disinformation with reckless abandon (does anyone remember Jade Helm?). Why is it necessary to copy those tactics — and toss in an unhealthy dose of fear and intimidation — into what should be a boring, boring, boring city council meeting?

Oh, I get it. All those middle-aged soccer moms in WilCo Indivisible can be so threatening, what with the bake sales and voter registration drives and all. So, sure … an armed response is absolutely called for.

Then, there’s Leander, with a council so warm and cuddly that any perceived criticism is met with harsh maneuvers intended to silence every iota of disapproval.

Here’s a truth about good government: we should feel confident that our city representatives care enough about our concerns that we will be welcomed to every meeting and assured those concerns are heard, regardless of what those concerns are and who is upset that they are aired … in public.

This threatens you, Troy? Why? You don’t like your elbow jogged by your inferiors? Or is it that you can’t take the heat?

But, no. Mayor Troy Hill and his council minions have quashed public comments and will even flee town to hold strategic planning sessions because, well, the press or the Great Unwashed (which may be the same — have you seen newspaper reporters these days?) want to sit in, take notes and maybe even stream it live, since the city can’t be bothered.

That’s right, if our sources are correct (and they are), the Leander City Council will head to Salado Saturday and Sunday for that body’s annual retreat.

They HAD planned an over night trip to San Antonio for this but, the folks in San Antonio have forbidden indoor gatherings of 10 or more people because … well, there’s this raging pandemic spreading through the South with tragic relentlessness. Surely you’ve heard.

In case you’re one of the Great Unwashed and you’d like to crash the meeting (taking proper pandemic safety measures, of course), we hear it will be held at Salado’s Stagecoach Inn 9-5 on Saturday, then 9-noon on Sunday. It’s a public meeting in a swanky place and you’re paying for it. They’re gonna talk about spending your tax money. If you show up, they have to let you in. (And, if they don’t let you in, please let us know.)

(An aside: to some degree, both the silencing of non-agenda public comment and the out-of-town retreat appear to be at least technically legal but there is a vast difference between what is legal and what it right and proper.)

A few months back (was it only October?), I wrote in this space that city council meetings should be boring. And, they should be.

Perhaps Cedar Park Mayor Corbin van Arsdale can hammer a modicum of civility into his more intransigent colleagues (and we support him in that effort). Maybe the Leander retreat will be so boring, boring, boring that Mayor Hill will snooze through the whole thing.

Good Lord, I hope so.

Because city council meetings should be boring.

Related: Council meetings are supposed to be boring

This was originally published in the Hill Country News on Wednesday, October 2, 2019 and refers to the city councils in Leander and Cedar Park, where I help with the newsroom. I post it here for *reasons* and to show that, no matter how weird you think the Taylor City Council is, those guys are the very model of modern governmental civility compared to what’s out there.

Y’all know this isn’t normal, right?

Y’all know that the kind of toxic, partisan rancor on display at the Cedar Park and Leander city council meetings the last few months is not normal. Right?

It’s not normal. In fact, it’s not even done. 

Look, l’m a 30-year newspaper veteran. I have wasted/invested more hours of my life than I care to mention sitting on the back row of city council meetings watching the mundane ebb and flow of local politics play out through debates over street repairs, water system issues and zoning approvals. If council members do their jobs right, those meetings are boring boring boring. 

More times than not, I had to pinch myself to stay awake. And, I’m a policy wonk who thrives on public policy debates.

That’s how city council meetings are supposed to be. Not this three-ring circus we’ve endured recently.  

This. Is. Not. Normal. 

I remember when the aldermen in a small town to the west of here literally threw chairs at each other. It as if a particularly bad WWE bout had gone tragically awry. Literally. They threw folding chairs. At each other. The general public had to flee the council chambers for safety. 

It was a circus. (Sadly, at the time, the town was so small it couldn’t afford an actual three-ring circus so everyone had to settle for the one-ring variety.)

I kid you not, it spawned a directive for every newsroom I subsequently lead that every reporter must carry a camera to government meetings on the off chance that, “they throw chairs at each other or something.”

But, I will be go-to-hell if what we’ve witnessed recently isn’t on that same level of crazy. 

I have never seen so many elected representatives who think it’s okay to talk over or even yell at colleagues. With only a very few exceptions, I’ve never seen so many elected city officials exhibit such disrespect toward private citizens.

And I have never seen city governments so eaten up with political partisanship they can’t even get through a discussion about decorum.

I have some advice for elected officials everywhere.

First, you signed up for this job. You spent time and money campaigning for it. If you didn’t know that you would suffer some criticism for making unpopular decisions or taking controversial stands, you were naive. So, yes, you have to sit there and take it, even if the criticism is blistering or — in your mind — unfair.

As your friendly, local communications professional, my advice, whenever this happens, is to smile and nod and let people have their say.

Second, your job as an elected official is to serve the community. That means everyone in your community — not just your campaign workers or those who voted for you. Everyone.

Third, (or maybe second-B) your personal cultural agenda means nothing against serving your community. Everyone in this country deserves to live in a secular, representative democracy. Let your faith inform your actions, certainly, but you should not forget that you serve people of all faiths and many who observe no faith whatsoever. 

Finally, weaponizing social media against your detractors is an act of cowardice. Either have the civil good grace to reach out to those who hold differing views or remain silent. Calling out private citizens on your social media channel is … distasteful and, frankly, an embarrassment to your community and your colleagues.

Remember that everything you do as an elected representative reflects on our community. Developers watch it. Future city employees watch it. Entrepreneurs who are considering investments in our community watch it. They watch YOU.

Be the kind of leaders that your community deserves which, at its most basic, is considerate and respectful to the citizens and communities you serve.

I know when this year got wrapped around the axle. It was that culture war over a danged chicken sandwich. 

That’s when this year went off the rails.

According to this itinerary, the one on this Excel spreadsheet on my computer monitor, had it not been for that chicken sandwich and all that followed, we would be leaving Edinburgh for Inverness today. 

Inverness is about a three-hour drive up the A9 via the M90. With no goal other than to arrive in Inverness by bed time, we would have had ample time for stops at Aviemore (starred recommendation from my daughter), Dalwhinnie (a favored Scotch distillery) and a side-trip into the Tay Forest for a visit to Aberfeldy (another of my favorite distilleries).

According to this itinerary, which I carefully researched late last year, at this point in our vacation, we would have already spent three days in Edinburgh with two solid weeks remaining to explore pre-Cambrian ruins, castles, castle ruins, fairy rings, museums, more castle ruins, music and food festivals, monster hide-outs, wizard-ish steam trains and Highland games. 

Plus the occasional Scotch distillery. I hear they have a couple-six of those in Scotland and figured we might run across one or two of them on our travels. Particularly if we followed the River Spey out of the Caringorms and down to the North Sea. A target-rich environment, I understand.

The other daughter and her husband are living in Edinburgh this year, and a chunk of the next, working on a big project — a project which, oddly enough, is related to Scotch. They work for a company that, among other creative endeavors, designs and builds big, immersive, experiential museums. One of the big brands over there decided they need a big, immersive, experiential museum to celebrate their 100th year distilling and blending fine Scotch.

But, that’s beside the point. The point is/was that, had the world continued to spin as it had before the chicken sandwich wars (and all that followed), we would — today — be exploring the Scottish Highlands with our kids.

But, late 2019 seems a couple of decades ago. It’s hard to even imagine …

Even after everything hit the fan, and the sandwich wars moved to an effort to burn Australia to the bedrock then devolved into a hellish pandemic, we still entertained hopes that we would be able to travel by July. Maybe, we thought, the pandemic would recede enough to allow a window for international travel. 

We’ve kept up with travel restrictions and the fortunes of the airline industry, because we booked and paid for our tickets soon after we nearly went to war with Iran in January (remember that?).

Please, let this mess calm down so we can take our vacation, we thought. But, no. We got complacent. We socialized. We couldn’t be bothered to wear a mask. We ignored all the advice the experts preached about how to slow the spread, flatten the curve and keep a lid on this thing so we could, eventually (by July? Please??) get a semblance of our lives back.

(“This is why I hate group projects!” my wife shouted as she read proof on this. “Stoopid people!”)

I even went so far as to contact the Scottish Visitors Bureau to see what guidance they had. The response was painfully polite but equally blunt. Please don’t plan to visit Scotland at this time, you filthy American. Okay, I’m paraphrasing but I can read between the lines.

Last week, about 36 hours before we were to board our flight out of Austin, we cancelled. Got a voucher we hope to use in March.

The hope here is that things will be better by then. Please, let it all be better by March!

Save lives. Save vacations. Wear your mask!

(With a tip of the hat to Ken Cooke.)

There are times when I feel like the neighborhood scold.

It’s not an unusual position for me. Newspaper editors are often accused of tilting at windmills and similar fanciful activities. Even though we know we will change few minds, we indulge in windmill tilts with some glee.

But, here in WilCo, we are in the midst of a dangerous spike in Covid-19 infections. We only have a few tools available and, like it or not, wearing a face mask in public is one of them (this is my current scold).

That’s why I was upset to learn that a county judge in a large urban county deciphered Gov. Gregg Abbott’s most recent executive orders and found a loophole that permits local governments to mandate that businesses in their jurisdictions require that employees and customers wear masks.

Not a state mandate. And, Abbott won’t let any government at any level mandate that people wear masks when in public.

But, just like he’s done with other unpopular issues, he will let those officials push that responsibility to local business owners.

This isn’t the way it should go.

This is a public health crisis. It should not be up to local business leaders to enforce rules designed to promote public health — then, face financial liability should their customers be found to be in violation of those rules.

You will note that the Austin/Travis County area has already put those rules in place. So has Hays County. So have most of the state’s other urban counties. Not because they want to; they have no choice.

Not WilCo, of course. When I asked County Judge Bill Gravell if, in light of our surge of infections, would he place such a mandate on our area businesses, he responded, “No sir.”

He didn’t answer any of my follow up questions, the primary one being, “Will you support mayors in the county if they choose to do this?”

You should be unsurprised to learn that Leander Mayor Troy Hill said (paraphrasing here), “No way, no how, over my dead body.”

Cedar Park Mayor Corbin van Arsdale is said to be considering it, as are the mayors in Georgetown and Taylor.

Round Rock’s mayor called it an “undue burden on businesses,” and I happen to agree.

This isn’t the way to address a public health crisis.

However, Gov. Abbott has left local governments few tools in the local government tool box, which is par. He’s busily removed tools from that tool box for a couple of years, now, so this is not a surprise.

“To state the obvious, COVID-19 is now spreading at an unacceptable rate in Texas, and it must be corralled,” he said in a press conference Monday. He warned of calamitous consequences but refused any other action. Then, he encouraged everyone to wear a mask in public, donned his own personalized Texas-themed face mask and wheeled himself out of the auditorium.

I can’t help but think the Texas-themed face mask was performative. But, in addition to being an idealist, I’m a cynic.

It should come as no surprise that Austin (and Hays County)  H-E-B stores already had a plan in place to deal with this requirement and they implemented it with dispatch. They’d happily do the same in WilCo, given a chance.

Side note: We believe H-E-B should have been put in charge of our response to this pandemic from the beginning.

No, requiring our local businesses to enforce health standards among their customers is the wrong way to go about combating this pandemic.

But, what choice has our governor left us?

None.

There’s a new-ish phrase making the rounds along with the pandemic and all of the protests and rallies against police brutality.

“De-fund the police.”

Yes, some people are calling to abolish the police. But the “de-fund” movement is more about re-imagining what our police force looks like, what it’s tasked to do and how it interacts with communities.

The idea behind the phrase is this: we’ve put too many of our public safety eggs into a basket that has, honestly, only a few options when presented with tense situations.

Proponents of the movement contend that there are better ways to deal with many of societies ills than by sending an armed response.

They say that the people who respond to crises in our community should be the people who are best-equipped to deal with those crises. Rather than “strangers armed with guns,” first responders should include mental health providers, social workers, victim advocates and other community members in less visible but more appropriate roles.

In other words, proponents say, take some of the money that goes into law enforcement and re-invest it in education, in jobs, in social services for mental health, domestic violence and homelessness, among others.

Words matter. I know, I trade in written words every single day. “De-fund” the police is not a phrase that will resonate with most of America, even if some of the proposals make sense. It’s not even what this is about.

It’s sorta like folks using the phrase “global warming” when what they really need to focus on is climate change. Global warming is too nuanced. It’s what’s happening, by and large, but it’s easily mis-characterized. But, global warming is causing climate change and serious weather watchers will attest that our climate is indeed changing.

With images of police violence dominating our televisions every night (yes, I know — not all police but, too many of them are captured on video doing things that absolutely smack of police brutality), maybe this discussion has merit.

But, call it something else or this will go no where.

It’s not often that I am at a loss for words. But, here we are … early on a Tuesday morning, decidedly past my deadline, and I’m at a loss.

Saturday morning, I was all set. I knew that I wanted to write this week’s column around the manned launch from Florida. I’d seen video of the inside of the Dragon capsule, how the controls looked like a real-life version of something out of a Star Trek movie (the J.J. Abrams re-boot).

It would be so completely different from the distressing coronavirus stuff I’ve been writing. Aspirational. Perhaps even inspirational.

Then I checked the news.

I see now that was a mistake.

Instead of a giddy mob of NASA comms people chattering excitedly about this or that aspect of the launch, my news feed was filled with images of burning American cities. Of police firing “non-lethal” weapons at protestors and at reporters. Of white anarchists (from the left or the right) trashing businesses and inciting violence in what could only be an effort to smear the peaceful protestors.

The images that flash through my mind as I contemplate the weekend and early this week are horrible. And poor optics for a democratic republic. Those images are, in my mind, overlaid with a sound track made up exclusively with George Floyd’s death rattle of “I can’t breathe.”

Even Austin had trouble — and Austin is notoriously laid back, even when it comes to protests. That just shows how truly messed up this is. How truly messed up we are.

Last week, in my letter to my new grand daughter, I asked her forgiveness about how bad things seem. “We’re usually a bit better than this,” I said.

How naive. It seems that every time we hit a new low, something like this comes along to demonstrate how low the bottom really is.

But, still … I struggle to find the words that express how I feel right now.

I know it’s not all police, just like it’s not all protesters. Thankfully, some in law enforcement have found words and actions that express their feelings.

The video of Houston Police Chief Art Acevedo marching with BLM protesters Sunday was inspiring. We saw and heard similar examples from officers and police chiefs all across the country … from Washington DC, to Atlanta to Dallas to Fort Worth to Louisville.

To Leander.

“The failed actions by officers who were sworn to protect and serve were a complete failure to our police profession,” Leander Police Chief Greg Minton said in a statement Monday. “The death of George Floyd will, and should, cause police organizations across the country to take a hard look at their officers and organizational cultures to prevent these kinds of tragedies from happening in the future.”

Those words reassure and I, for one, am grateful.

So, if you find you have trouble expressing your feelings about what’s happening right now, know that you are not alone. Even some of us who do this for a living have come up empty.

Since I’m at a loss, I’ll leave you with words uttered by others.

“Here’s an example of how white privilege sounds. You keep saying, ‘It’s horrible that an innocent black man was killed but destroying property has to stop.’ You’re prioritizing the wrong part. Instead, try saying, ‘It’s horrible that property is being destroyed but killing innocent black men has got to stop.’”
— Found on social media

“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.” — JFK

“Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.” — B. Franklin

“Riot is the language of the unheard.” — MLK

Over the weekend, a man assaulted a clerk at a Leander HEB store because the groceries he placed on the conveyor was over the limit the store imposed on meat purchases.

The limit was five packages of meat. He had seven. He got mad when she wouldn’t let him check out with that much. He threw packages of steak and lettuce at the young woman, then stormed off.

At least he didn’t spit on her. Or wipe his nose on her smock. Or shoot her.

Yeah, that’s happened, more than once in this fine country, and at least one man is dead as a result. A security guard wouldn’t let a customer in a Dollar General without a face mask. So, the customer got angry. She left, then came back in the company of her son who shot the security guard in the head.

Then there were those demonstrations of civil disobedience featuring people dressed in cammo and toting long arms into state capitol buildings screaming their unmasked frustration and spittle into the faces of police officers.

Social media is swimming with examples of what I can only describe as childish outrage at guidelines established to let us open back up safely. People chafe at having to wear a mask or keep any sort of social distance. Many refuse to wear one and loudly denounce any business that insists customers do so.

When one of our reporters took a look around our area, he was appalled at how few people wore masks — maybe 25% of those he saw wore them.

In general, Texans take this pandemic seriously and aren’t quite sure we’re ready to open it all back up. In general, Texans support continued efforts to slow the spread. That’s according to a UT/Texas Tribune from late last month.

But, when you start parsing the poll results by partisanship, it is obvious that folks on the right of the spectrum are less than supportive, to put it mildly. That’s played out on social media, which often the only measuring stick we have for local public opinion as our reporters have been told to keep their distance.

If social media was sometimes toxic before this struck, it can be positively vile now. The way some people refer to those who aren’t ready to go back to work or insist on wearing a mask when they do go out … or businesses that enforce masks and other measures for the protection of their customers and staff … well, I don’t know how they sleep at night.

People who prefer the safety of home and go out only behind a mask are labeled as whiners and scaredy-cats. Wearing a mask makes you weak. Your mask infringes on my liberty and I’ll never again darken the door of a business that forces me to wear one.

And, thus, this pandemic has devolved into just another particularly viscous partisan mess.

Here’s the thing. We’re experimenting with how much we can open while also protecting our population against a spike. Partial capacity, social distancing and face masks are part of that strategy. If we can keep it together, if we can maintain that distance, protect others by wearing a mask and help businesses enforce guidelines, we can open up more of the economy.

If, on the other hand, we over-crowd theaters and restaurants, ignore those practices which have proven somewhat effective, and shame (or assault) those who try to do this right thing, we will see a huge spike of new cases and hospitalizations come the first of June.

I’m not sure what happens after that but it brings to mind a meme I’ve seen: The idea behind staty-at-home was not to stop the spread. It was slow it down to make sure that when you catch it, there will be a hospital bed for you.

This crisis could have united us against a common foe. Instead, it revealed just how deep the partisan divide truly is.

How did we let it get to this?

Have you thought about what it would be like to be tested for the coronavirus? Very few of us have been. Until recently, you had to exhibit Covid-19 symptoms, have been in close contact with someone who has tested positive or have been on the front line to even be considered for a test.

But, those tests are becoming more and more available. The Williamson County Cities and Health District has set up several free drive through sites and getting an appointment is relatively easy. In fact, during a recent press call, County Judge Bill Gravell encouraged people to be tested.

 

So, I got one.

Not to worry. I haven’t shown any of the typical — or even atypical — symptoms. Since this  mess began, I’ve largely avoided social interactions, kept my distance and observed proper hygiene. I wear a mask when I go in public. But, as a 63 year-old lung cancer survivor with COPD and high-ish blood pressure, I can reserve a pair of 6-inch swabs, a bit of re-agent and a the services of a professional to administer the test, whether I exhibit symptoms or not.

So, I did. In the interests of reportagè, of course.

You can’t just drive up to any of the testing sites so, the first thing to do is get an appointment. There’s a link on wcchd.org that sends you to the Austin Public Health website. That’s where you take the self-diagnostic. April Kelley’s related story walks you through it.

For various reasons, I wanted to have my test administered Saturday in Taylor. That location was run by the Texas Guard with support from WilCo’s Emergency Management Office. I had to jump through an extra hoop or two to get the appointment but the hassle was not onerous.

The test site was set up at Taylor’s Regional Park. It was the model of military efficiency. Earnest young men and women decked out in BDU’s, face masks and colorful latex gloves kept careful watch over the traffic areas. Their obvious competence and confidence was reassuring.

When I arrived, I stopped at the check-in station where a young man verified my ID and case number. He directed me forward. Every time I rolled my window down, I was asked, politely but firmly, to roll it back up. I simply cracked the window enough to communicate and pressed my drivers license against the glass.

At the next stop, another young man verified my ID again (through the window), then handed me a packet that contained information on the virus and guidance on what I should do if I suspected I was infected. Tucked inside of the folded copy paper was a good mask and a sheet of tissue.

He directed me to lane four.

There, a young woman in full PPE, including goggles, what I gathered was a full-on N-95 face mask and a face shield, asked me to open the door of my car, turn sideways so I nearly faced her and lower my face mask from my nose. Only my nose.

She warned that the procedure might be uncomfortable and asked that I not push her away if it became too uncomfortable. The warning was needed.

Gently, she stuck a 6-inch swab up one nostril and, as she twirled it around, she chanted, “Almost done. Almost done. Almost done,” over and over again.

It was all I could do to not recoil. I grabbed the steering wheel in one hand, and the car seat in the other. I teared up.

The swab withdrew. I wanted to sneeze, terribly …

I tried to. I shook my head and squinted against the tears.

Then, after I took a breath, she did the other nostril. The chant returned. “Almost done. Almost done. Almost done.”

I thought I would levitate out of my seat while she twirled the swab deep in my sinus.

Please understand something. It was not at all painful. It was more like … have you ever had to sneeze so much, so intensely, that it was … well, not exactly painful but very, very uncomfortable? And, at the same time, I felt a terrible itch. I wanted to shove a wadded up tissue up my nose to scratch it.

Yeah. It was like that.

It was also over in moments.

Before my eyes had cleared, still another earnestly competent young man waved me forward and out of the queue.

I’m sure I saw Judge Gravell, standing under a tree, masked, smilezing at as I left.

The only real surprise was that mine was the only car in the area. The Guard had set up multiple traffic lanes and four testing stations. The WilCo Mobile Incident Command Center was prepped and Taylor fire and police personnel crawled all over the place. I know that they were prepared to administer 130 tests Saturday. They were expecting a crowd.

I am many things but, all by myself, I am not a crowd.

But I have had a test for the Rona. I was told that the results would be back within 96 hours.

Now, we wait.

(… to be continued … )