Dear Legislature:

Thank you. Yes, that’s all.  Void of sarcasm.

I know.  You’re waiting for the punch line.  But it ain't coming.  I understand your skepticism.  A positive column directed towards you is as common as a Republican who drives a Subaru.  Columnists—a cadre of bitter souls—revel in casting you as crazy, fringe members of society.  Truth is you’re not crazy—well, most of you anyway.  And for those of you who are that’s ok, too.  You see, many of us are also crazy.  And representative government is supposed to be a cross-section of society.

But crazy or not, you’re crazy good at promoting good government.  You might dismiss this because I’m in the occupation of the obsequious.  But currying favor isn’t my intention—at least not entirely. 

To borrow a line from the local Relief Society President, my heart is indeed full, and I’d feel ungrateful if I didn’t express my feelings of gratitude—feelings that bubbled to the surface during a recent gathering of hotel industry representatives from states across the country.

In discussing legislative issues and the prospect of cutting taxes in our respective states, the recurring theme was: our state is broke, straddled with debt and in no condition to cut taxes; if anything, a tax hike is in order.  It was with great pride that I reported that in Utah revenues are in line with expenditures without government having to drastically cut back; we already had a relatively streamlined operation. Utah even had a surplus and was able to deposit $11 million into the rainy day fund.  Take that, suckas. [leaning back, arms folded, smugly grinning].

But I was stealing your credit.  My only involvement is reaping the benefit.  It’s you that put in the long hours—taking time away from your families, professions and businesses.  You make the tough decisions.  You look people in the eye who want government to solve problems outside government’s purview and say “no.”  You balance the budget without reaching deeper into our pockets.  And you deserve credit.

But instead, the media prefers to dwell on the sensational.  Donning their tweed jackets, they look upon you condescendingly, confident they are better equipped to run the state from their cubicles.  And that is the coverage you have grown accustomed to. 

But not today. 

I just want to say “thank you.”