Beach Sand: An Election Parable

   “Let’s get a hot dog, Grandma.” Joey’s bare toes dug into the sand. “Why is Pete’s Tasty Dogs so far away? I wish it was closer to home.”

   “Me too, Joey, but that would make a long walk for people from the other end of the beach. They might decide not to bother. Pete sells more hot dogs by staying in the middle.”

   “You said the city agreed to add sand at this end, to make the beach longer. Then will Pete move Tasty Dogs here?”

   Grandma laughed. “No, Joey. Pete will still put his stand halfway down the beach.”

   “Then you went to all those meetings for nothing. All your letters to the city went to waste.” Joey scowled.

   “Not at all,” Grandma said. “Don’t you see? After this end of the beach is closer to our house, the middle will be closer, too. Pete will move Tasty Dogs to the new middle, and we won’t have as far to walk.”

   “Goody! Come, Grandma. I want ketchup on mine!”