600 Hours of Edward

look at every page in succession; I would be surprised if many people do, but I can’t really know without taking a scientific survey of the
Billings Herald-Gleaner
’s readers, and I just don’t have time for that.
    First, I go to the weather page (I have already been there today and recorded yesterday’s high and low temperatures and precipitation, and my data is complete). Then I skip over to Dear Abby (the headline today: “Husband Should Ditch Secretary”), and this is one of the things that bothers me about the newspaper: The page with Dear Abby is in different places on different days. Sometimes, it’s with the front section. Sometimes, it’s with the Local & State section. And sometimes, it is with the Sports section. Every day, I have to check the index on the front page of the newspaper to find out where it is. And that brings up another thing I dislike about the
Herald-Gleaner
: The indexalways says something like “4C” or “8A.” The letters mean nothing to me. I want the
Herald-Gleaner
to tell me what section to turn to, whether it’s Local & State or Sports or the front section. I am flummoxed by the
Herald-Gleaner
’s fixation on alphabetizing.
    Finally, I turn to the Opinion page. This is my recreational reading, as my father often turns up on the Opinion page—sometimes because a letter writer mentions him, for good or for bad, and sometimes because the
Herald-Gleaner
editorial board mentions him, and that’s almost always for bad. My father refers to the
Herald-Gleaner
editorial board as “that full-of-shit, left-wing league of loons.” My father has a creative way of putting words together sometimes. The
Herald-Gleaner
editorial board, so far as I can tell, has never called my father anything that mean, although I could only guess at what its members say privately about him, and I don’t like guessing. I prefer facts. And it is a fact that the
Herald-Gleaner
editorial board is generally not supportive of my father as a county commissioner. It routinely criticizes his positions and has, in every election, endorsed his opponent. Today, as it turns out, a small editorial, with the headline “Stanton Misses Again,” takes him to task.
    The Big Sky Economic Development Authority has yet to select a new executive director, but it made a smart move by moving on from candidate Dave Akers after his drunk-driving arrest while in Billings for his interview with the group. We can only hope that Akers’s most ardent supporter, Yellowstone County commissioner Ted Stanton, realizes the wisdom in moving on and ceases his incessant criticism of fellow board members.
    The
Herald-Gleaner
has been up front about the ways in which we consider Commissioner Stanton’s stewardship of
the county to be lacking, but we would be remiss if we didn’t also acknowledge his keen political gifts and the value of his experience in business and finance. The county’s residents are often well served by that expertise. Nobody is served by his banging the drum—and berating his peers—on behalf of a man who will not get the job to which he aspires.
    – • –
    The waiting area outside Jay L. Lamb’s office is pristine. Unlike Dr. Buckley’s waiting room, which is often in various stages of dishevelment and has such magazines as
People
and
Sports Illustrated
, Jay L. Lamb’s is polished and almost antiseptic. The furniture is modern—steel and glass and hard plastic. I find it uncomfortable and unwelcoming. The magazine titles are not the breezy reads favored by Dr. Buckley; they are such things as
Kiplinger’s
and
Inc.
and
Portfolio.
It seems that the biggest story in each has something to do with investing.
    “Mr. Lamb says you can go in now,” says the receptionist, who is perfectly made up, perfectly coiffed, and has perfectly angular facial features. She is a good match with the furniture.
    I stand up and check my watch. It’s 9:03 a.m. I walk through the office door to the immediate left of her desk. As I push it open, I draw in a big breath.
    – • –
    “Sit down, Mr. Stanton,” Jay L. Lamb says.
    I hesitate for a moment, as Mr. Stanton is standing just off Jay L. Lamb’s right shoulder. Jay L. Lamb is sitting behind an expansive glass-topped desk. Then I realize that he is talking to me.
    I sit. The chairs in here are just as uncomfortable as the ones outside.
    “Hello, Edward.”
    “Hello, Father.”
    Jay L. Lamb clears his throat as if to speak, but my father cuts him off.
    “What