The weary irritation in the woman’s voice on the phone told me it must be hard for the little guy — or gal — to make a living, even when he’s selling a service we’ll all need eventually.
Technically, she was only another citizen calling the state capitol to check on House Bill 2805, which would regulate casket sales in Texas. But this mortician wasn’t about to miss a chance to argue her point, even to a low-level state worker like me. She was sick and tired of the competition muscling in on her turf, so to speak.
“Those big funeral homes are always trying to run us small operators out of business,” she said. “Every session there’s some bill like this.”
However, like her customers, that bill eventually passed away. And she presumably is resting in peace herself, at least until the next casket bill arrives to rile her up in 2005.
Being on the receiving end of calls like hers made it clear that there must a reason the legislature meets only in odd years. State government reaches out every session to the rest of Texas by staffing a “bill status hot line” in the Legislative Reference Library. For me, working there provided a front-row seat on how legislators spend their time and what bills actually interest citizens.
From January to June, our crew of eight followed the fate of every piece of legislation — 9,231 bills in all — spawned by the senators and representatives. Our job was to try to help you callers understand what they were all about. Or maybe you helped us.
As it turned out, the inquiries about “croakers” had nothing to do with the small funeral operator or the casket bill. Instead, they were something that was supposed to be kept away from spotted sea trout. All that was immediately apparent is that a few fishermen on the coast are glad this particular live-bait bill was deep-sixed.
Most callers were pleased to hear it’s unlikely they’ll be munching on horse patties at their local burger joint anytime soon, unless they move to France. But despite passionate debate, it remains uncertain whether two meat-packing plants near Dallas can keep slaughtering equines, as long as you don’t plan to serve them up.
Animals occupy plenty of real estate in the bill status files. It’s now officially okay for property and animal owners to eliminate worrying coyotes and “depredating feral hogs” without a license — just don’t dare abandon any crab traps in public waters.
And then came the Buffalo Bill. Those who want to breed bisons — no problem. Simply be aware they could be considered a threat to homeland security. If the shaggy beast ever ails from something other than bluetongue, according to House Bill 9, the vet may have to report it to the state health department within 24 hours. But only if the disease turns up on “List A” of the Paris-based Office International des Epizooties.
One House resolution that didn’t make it calls for specific directives from the “White-Tailed Deer Advisory Committee.” How about this: Move to Hollywood Park.
An elderly couple from that north San Antonio burb called in about another bill, worried that their furry friends could be pushed out, or worse. Senate Bill 1582 authorizes subdivisions and property owners associations to trap and transport those pesky urban deer.
The husband and wife both got on the phone to explain. “We have a whole deer family: granddad and grandmom, cousins, and aunts and uncles in our yard. We like the deer.”
Others love deer for different reasons. Bucks better run like the wind if they see Mary Lamar Killam coming. According to House Resolution 1303, this “respected Laredo civic leader” was the 2003 Women’s High Fence Division champion in the Cola Blanca Big Buck Contest.
Someone who might want the venison is Virginia Melugin of the Texas hamlet of Era. In celebration of her 100th birthday, legislators commended this deacon’s wife for feeding “every Baptist preacher who came to her community for 25 years.”
Being the good Texas lady she is, Melugin must have at times served chips and salsa, now the official snack food of Texas. That’s thanks to some ambitious third-graders from Mission, who enlisted the help of Representative Ismael “Kino” Flores.
At least Flores was specific about his subject. Teachers, who burned up the bill status hot line all session, couldn’t figure out what the heck their options were for retiring. Neither could we, with a mere 34 bills related to teacher retirement out there.
Other issues were easier to pin down. Had Senator Juan “Chuy” Hinojosa’s Bill 1395 made it out of committee, we would know for sure that “foot means the portion of a lower limb below the ankle joint.” This bill tackled the “definition of foot for purposes of the practice of podiatry.”
“It was actually contentious, believe it or not,” said Hinojosa spokeswoman Melissa Sattley. “It was the orthopedic surgeons versus the podiatrists. It was the battle of the ankle.”
A bit scarier is House Bill 1592, now awaiting action by Governor Rick Perry. That would make it a crime for a doctor to perform surgery while drunk. Unless, of course, it’s an “emergency.” Well, okay then.
Texas already has laws that punish those who drive, fly, boat or assemble an amusement ride while intoxicated. Will surgeons now be hauled into court for OWI? Will doctors, instead of patients, need to explain their “owees”?
Some legislative watchers were dying for a drink after suffering through required public hearings on other bills. It was a wonder anyone showed up to witness discussions of shampoo apprentice permits, expiration of gift certificates, performance standards for toilets, or standing water as a nuisance.
In the convoluted legislative process, even bills with dismal prospects of passing can be redeemed. Plenty of legislation that died, usually in committee, was resurrected in the frantic countdown to the session’s official close on June 2.
After two bills that would have changed the name of Southwest Texas State University stalled out, annoyed graduates got our reassurances on the phone that they needn’t take a bottle of Wite-Out to their diplomas just yet. But at the end of May, a Senate bill squeaked through that will indeed trade one lengthy acronym, SWTSU, for another, TSUSM (Texas State University at San Marcos). Unless Governor Perry vetoes it.
In five months of fielding requests, one of the best calls to the hot line was one of the last. On June 1, the absolute final day to pass legislation, a woman asked if there was a bill “prohibiting the use of elephants in the circus.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” a colleague reported, “but there isn’t one single bill that contains the word elephant.”
Wonder if we should have done the computer search under pachyderm. Oh, well, too late now. Just like the legislators, we’re outta here.
For all the rules, and legislation, visit the Texas legislature at www.capitol.state.tx.us.
This article appears in Jun 12-18, 2003.