Full Disclosure

It’s interesting, and a little frightening, how politicians and so-called important people are so closely scrutinized these days. It seems that if the media or the opposing political party disagrees with a point of view, they’re going to dig and dig until they come up with some “dirt” on the one to whom that view is attributed. There have been several instances lately of notable persons having their high school and college yearbooks examined and plastered on the news to discredit them. Maybe those individuals should be discredited, but probably not for a picture or a sentence from a yearbook page 50+ years ago. The more pertinent question, it seems, is what has that individual done with his life since he was educated. I’m not really trying to make a political statement here – I’m merely saying, “Thank God, I’m not interested in getting into politics or public service.”

So, just in case I ever do run for any kind of office, which I won’t; but just in case – I’m offering full disclosure here. I did some stupid things in high school and in college: things that I’m not proud of, in fact, I’m ashamed of. Rather than list them here, I offer my first book as evidence. If anyone thinks it possible that I may ever run against them for any kind of office, which I won’t, but if you do think so, please read my book entitled “Leavings: Honeycutt to Cooper Ridge.” It’s available at amazon.com in print or Kindle version. It has all that stuff in it that will surely disqualify me from holding any public office in today’s world. There are even pictures in the book. And if you’re offended by anything I did or said when I was a young kid just trying to get lucky, I apologize.

If that’s not disclosure enough, you can go to my high school yearbook which has several pictures of me, or my Clemson yearbook, “Taps.” I’ve taken the liberty to include in this post what is probably the most incriminating picture from “Taps.” As part of my fraternity initiation, I went with another pledge, Woody Dillard (and I apologize to Woody and his family for incriminating him here) to Winthrop College on the weekend of their annual Junior Follies. The picture below was taken between Act I and Act II of the performance. Woody and I, uninvited and unappreciated, ran down the aisle and jumped up onto the railing separating the orchestra from the audience, and belted out one verse of “On the Wings of a Dove.” I’m not sure how that picture got into the yearbook, but I can’t deny that it’s there. Again, I’m sure that will be a disqualifier for any kind of public office or service, so I hereby wish to remove my name from any and all candidacies.