This letter is born out of an unfortunate event that occurred on my property in Sutter Creek. I am prompted to respond as the event reflects my contempt for the inadequacies of the human condition. Perhaps a week ago I was given a small political campaign sign by a family member to put in my front yard. I initially resisted as I usually keep my politics private, but finally succumbed to my father's request (after all, I probably owed him for those 20 years of food and shelter). The campaign sign supported democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama. I cynically thought to myself as I placed it in my flowerbed, "I bet this doesn't last a week." The sign was gone in five days.

Now comes the blame game. The unknown culprit(s) ran through my head like a line-up down at the police station. Could it have been a tornado that touched down in my front yard? I thought that was unlikely as my daffodils that had surrounded the sign were still alive and kicking. Maybe it was just young kids that impulsively tore the sign down as they walked to a friend's house? I discounted that theory as the sign was up a 7-foot hill that required at least a small degree of physical exertion. Any decent parent knows that would eliminate teenagers. Could it be that the culprit just didn't like campaign signs? A simple survey of the neighborhood determined that within 200 yards of my house there were a half-dozen houses that had campaign signs supporting local supervisors. By process of elimination, I was left with the only motive for the crime that my amateur sleuthing could detect - the guy's name on the sign.

The truth is that I will likely never know who vandalized my property. I can waste a lot of time blaming it on bigotry, young "punks" or weird weather disturbances. But what if I figure out that it was a young "punk"? Do I then have to apologize to the tornados and bigots? As I mulled over my options, I found that my most fulfilling response was the art of shame. If there is any karma in the world then the person responsible for stealing that sign will read this letter and discover my name. I am not going anywhere. I was born and raised in Amador County and will hopefully grow old on that same corner in Sutter Creek where Bill Case used to sit. I do not expect an apology or the sign to end up on my doorstep, but can take solace in the fact that you (vandal) and I will one day cross paths. Whether at a local restaurant or a sporting event or maybe at the grocery store, the odds are that someone may point me out to you. At that point I can only hope that you feel at least a tinge of shame for your actions. I am not so naïve as to expect you to show up at my doorstep and apologize or magically replace the sign. Please continue to lurk around in the dark like a coward; that is far easier.

Life goes on and I will undoubtedly replace my silly little campaign sign. I will have likely forgotten about you and this incident by the time you and I cross paths. My limited experience with the human condition tells me this: You will remember my name and feel the shame of your weakness. After this letter, I am going to go on with my ridiculously pleasant life while you have to live with the thought of someday having to look me in the eye. In light of your character, I can only assume that had the campaign sign read "COWARD," you would have left it alone.