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Bill expected to sign bill

(Barnacle-on-Potomac) Western hospitality is alive and well after three weeks in the House of Representatives. That’s where the populist Howdy Law has been hanging its’ Stetson since mid-April.

Originally bulldogged into law by the Montrose (Colorado) City Council and quickly approved by the County Commissars, the Howdy Law has received quite a little press since it’s virgin implementation at this Western Colorado town in 1994. Lots of other municipalities and counties have adopted the legislation. Some have written it into city and county ordinances while others have simply encouraged the local population to live by the simple do unto others creed that is inherent to a healthy society.

The Howdy Law, as originally written, simply calls for outward signs of friendliness by saying Howdy to people one might encounter on the street. It endorses gregariousness as a way of life and the result is a happier, thriving population. For old timers it’s the only acceptable way to be, and is therefore comfortable in all social exchanges. For the urban refugee it is restorative and hygienic. It allows the soul to bloom in its new environs.

Now the federals are on the verge of passing legislation that would adopt the Howdy Law as the edict of note and quite possibly the prescription for what ails us as a nation. In most cultures, a greeting is basic. Here in the suburb-choked, dollar days USA we are more likely to run someone over with our shiny new car than to belt out an amicable hello.

At first the local Howdy Law was based on the honor system but after a few months a person could expect a toothless summons for any sign of animosity in the face of such a greeting. To be sure, there were those who said their right to be anti-social was being eroded and the civil libertarians jumped into the fray. A lawsuit was filed and people got hot and haughty. Fortunately the paperwork was mysteriously misplaced, the court records allegedly remain stashed under a pile of dog-at-large citations, and drunk driving plea-bargains in someone’s basement.

In 1996 then Governor Roy Romero signed a breakthrough bill that adopted the Howdy Law all across the state. It became the bible for the tourist industry with dude ranches teaching their little dudes and dudettes to employ it on trail rides and ski areas demanding that their close-cropped employees say Howdy to visitors as many as 200 times per day.

What these greenhorn mercantilists often don’t remember is that the whole thing started here on the banks of the Uncompahgre River where the concept of Howdy is as natural blue skies as and as sure as sagebrush. Despite rampant growth and questionable land use over the past years Montrose remains a friendly place. Even the cops say Howdy, and then they put on the cuffs.

Do some of us think friendly is not cosmopolitan or sophisticated enough? The other evening in what was once a small town I stood in the checkout line at the grocery. There were many people there that I had never seen. No one spoke. Were they all from California? Suddenly in my advanced state of Holy Joe judgment, I realized two things, 1.) I was the only guy in a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops 2.) In my attempt to get on with the purchase of whipped cream and salsa I didn’t say anything to anyone either.

Estrangement often precipitates violence as the disaffected act out their fatal frustrations. We don’t have to bring up road rage or kids with guns to illustrate that point (the man on TV does that for us every hour on the hour). Maybe a crisp Hello in There, as songwriter John Prine puts it, could defuse the situation. The feds seem to think so, and isn’t that entity infallible in matters of benevolent dictation, o’ sumpin.

Enough preaching. If all goes according to plan the Senate will vote on this matter of mandatory greeting tomorrow and the Howdy Law will be in the books (allow six to eight weeks for delivery) before the fireworks light up the skies for the Fourth.

“Can you hear me? I’m on the other side. Look through the holes in the rock wall. They brought you here last night from Uaxatun, after the battle. Are you Mayan? Can you hear me?”

     The recipient of this information could not stand. He sat up in the cramped cell and peered through the opening in the thick stone wall. He could see daylight. His prison was on the ground level of what appeared to be a large structure not seen since visits to Quirigua. One ball court was in full view. It was much smaller than the one at Copan, where gods and giants once entertained the visitors from the stars.

“I can hear you but I cannot see where you are,”  he whispered instinctively not knowing who else was in earshot.

“Why do you whisper, my friend? What else can they do to you?”