I figured my corn crib was the last place they’d look, and sure enough it was. That’s where they found my top secret stash of classified U.S. government documents.
I don’t know how many folders there were because it’s been 43 years. But I understand from the federal agents that the material was a wee bit moldy.
What was my job, way back when, that got me access to such sensitive material? Sorry, that’s classified.
The cost to our country, of course, will probably be incalculable. How incalculable? Hard to tell since that will likely be too sensitive to see the light of day.
Obviously, I can’t go into the specifics of what was liberated from my corn crib, other than the cobs and that six-foot-long Eastern rat snake. The agents weren’t too happy. I’m guessing they’ll redact the reptilian part.
Full disclosure here, there also was some sensitive stuff stuffed into the glove compartment of my late mother’s ‘57 Chevy, which is up on blocks in the barn. Some more, too, turned up in the old moonshine still down by the outhouse. It hasn’t been used in years, the still that is.
I know what you’re thinking, but they found no secret papers in (or under) the outhouse.
I suppose I could have returned the folders, but nobody seemed too anxious about getting them back. Fact is, I think they plum forgot about them. Hard to believe, I know, the docs being so doggone sensitive and all.
So how sensitive? Here’s a hypothetical: in Florida they likely would classify “for Ron’s eyes only” documents (and books, too) that mentioned the fact that there once was slavery and racist Jim Crow laws in the United States. Nobody needs to know about that in the Sunshine State.
Yup, there sure has been an epidemic of misplaced state secrets: Trump (who didn’t want to give his back), Biden, Pence, me—who’s next? Dick Van Dyke? Bridget Bardot? Tommy Tune? George Washington, for heaven’s sake?
Mark my words, there will be more revelations.
The problem may be, truth be told, that there are likely reams of “secret” material that just ain’t very secret. Sometimes it is just plain embarrassing. When in doubt, stamp it “Like, Way Too Secret, Totally” is likely the mantra of our cloak and dagger crowd. For example, the extremely Top Secret Pentagon Papers were about how a generation of American leaders lied and blundered our way into the Vietnam War. It was hardly a secret by 1971, although the details were embarrassing and career-threatening to the many people responsible.
I think I have a fix for this “oops, I just found classified documents in my crock pot” problem. I borrow books from my local library—you probably do, too. Well, I have bushels of overdue tomes scattered about the house, I have been collecting them like they were Fabergé eggs. So, my local librarian, who is no nonsense, she calls me daily now to remind me that my delinquency is costing me a nickel a book per diem, plus interest.
I’m bringing them back tomorrow.
Maybe she should be put in charge of the CIA or the FBI or some such spooky acronym.
David Holahan is a freelance writer in East Haddam.