Paying attention is hard.

And then you end up a witness to something horrible, like the aftermath of a black Mercedes colliding with an ambulance. Or you are a witness to body cam footage of police brutality. Maybe you’re like me and enjoy watching Johnny Knoxville get hurt in ways that only he can think of.

A few days away from a local election and I had the unfortunate privilege of seeing a photograph that not only made me wonder why this person wore it, but more important, why would you ever waste your money on a meme t-shirt that will be worth more as a car wash rag than a shirt. First, a laugh. How ridiculous. Then the realization; wait a second. This? It’s not funny. Finally, the candidate recognition. Oh crud. That’s him. Someone made a deliberate decision to put that first on a t-shirt, then on their body, and finally, walk out the door. With it on. And that? That’s the part I can’t get past.

At the same time that I see this pop up on my social media timeline, I find an executive director opening, one that would fit my skill set extremely well. Show up. I could send in my resume and get an interview. Stay. I could keep the position for two years, get settled in, and then the politics would eat me alive. Business owners. City government officials. Private citizens. Each hearing what they want to, not what I am really saying. All because I took a risk. And I risked it all.

I passed on applying for the job. Just like I passed on an opportunity to embarrass someone in our local community. Finding myself knee-deep in politics, again, I bailed, recognizing no one wants to acknowledge any community leaders or local politicians of wrongdoing. After all, if you say I was wrong, it’s the worst thing you could do, especially if you follow it with I’m sorry. And those two words, in the political arena, are career-ending words.

Which brings me back to paying attention. Is it worth it? Better question. Is it worth it when it could mean things will get better in our small community?

I vote in Jackson. This election belongs to Cape Girardeau. But I was paying attention anyway, and that’s the problem with paying attention; it makes everything feel like you are the responsible one. And those in power can have fun at someone else’s expense, with no repercussions.

Paying attention means you get to be accountable. If you hold yourself to a higher standard, like, say, traffic laws, then you don’t speed. Simple as that.

So where is the accountability in our elected representatives? Voting records buried in committee minutes nobody reads. Decisions made in rooms nobody entered. Maybe mine is still out there, somewhere between the speed limit sign and the browser tab I should have kept open.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​