I was planning to write something patriotic for Independence Day — you know, something about how an oppressed people living on the edge of an untamed continent stood up to tyranny; a people who, though vastly outnumbered and under-supplied, fought and won a long, hard war against the greatest economic and military power on Earth and, who, as a result of their victory, bequeathed to us a freedom that, until that time, no people in the history of mankind has ever known.

That’s what was on my mind when I staggered through the kitchen door Saturday evening after returning from a 58-mile bicycle ride that had left me utterly exhausted. I opened a Wild Cherry Pepsi, plopped myself down on a kitchen chair, propped up my sore legs, and called my son on my cell phone to let him know I had made it home more or less safely.

It was then that I noticed the winking red light on the remote handset of my landline phone. Someone had called while I was out on my ride. Who could it be? Except for telemarketers, hardly anybody calls me on that line (and telemarketers don’t leave messages).

With a great effort, I hoisted myself out of the chair and ambled back to my office to retrieve the message off the base station. It was somebody from the Census Bureau. Calling me at 5:37 p.m. on a holiday weekend. He left a telephone number and a “Case ID” with instructions to call back. Read more »