Have you ever seen so many candidates runnin’ for sheriff as there is this year in Bollinger County? Most all of them are on the Democrat ticket. The Republican side ain’t got but one.

That shows you what an endangered species the Republicans are in this county. Must be a very important job, bein’ sheriff, or there wouldn’t be so many people wantin’ it.

I guess there has to be a sheriff because we’ve had one ever since time, but so help me, Hannah, I wouldn’t want it.

It isn’t the bad guys that would bother me. My goodness, we’ve got more people wearin’ guns and badges in this county than we have bad guys.

We’ve got CIA, FBI, US marshals, state patrol, sheriffs, deputy sheriffs and town marshalls.

If the sheriff should happen to run into someone dumb enough to fight odds, like that, he’s got plenty of back-up. The hours wouldn’t bother me, either.

The sheriff has enough deputies, either paid or unpaid, who will take over when the man wants a day off.

I know there must be a lot of rules and regulations set up by state and federal government that have to be a pain in the you-squats, but I could live with that.

Do you know what would bother me most? All that hardware you have to pack. I’m here to tell you that would be a strain on my back along with my mind.

Back several years ago when I used to trap for part of my livelihood, but mostly for fun, I carried a pistol. Every mornin’ before sunup I’d strap that heater on and head for my traps. Made pretty good country boy wages, too.

Do you know how tiring it is to carry the iron? My hips would sometimes get so sore I felt like I might be getting’ phistelo. No matter, you strapped her on anyway because it’s easier than carryin’ a long gun.

The other day over at the coffee shop a sheriff and his deputy from some other county had stopped for a cup. The sheriff was a small man but he didn’t know it because he was carryin’ a big man’s load.

I could tell the sheriff from the deputy because of age and actions, not by the load because they both carried the same cargo.

This sheriff walked kinda like an ol’ bantam hen tryin’ to hover her chicks—you know, with his arms kinda spread out like if he might have to draw at any second.

The deputy just picked up the tab. Shoot, that sheriff feller wasn’t foolin’ me a bit. He wasn’t fixin’ to draw—he walked like that so his arms could clear his hardware.

On this shiny brown gun belt was hooked a gun and holster, handcuffs, mase can and one of them little radios all packed away in a leather box with its little antenna stickin’ up.

They make lots of staticky noises that no one can understand. That badge looked like it weighed a pound and a half. I’ll bet if you weighed the man and the hardware separately, the hardware would outweigh the man.

Somebody has got to do it, but it don’t have to be me. My back couldn’t take the load, and neither could my Bronco, shot guns, long antennas, radios, spotlight, sirens, etc. etc. etc.

So, if you happen to be a defeated candidate this time, and there will be several, all is not lost — think of your back.

COURTESY of Tom Runnels Publications. Copyrighted and Registered by Tom Runnels and Saundra Runnels Revocable Trust. Printed in The Banner Press:  June 23, 1988.