Caffeinated Politics

Coloma, Wisconsin, recently drew the unenviable attention for turning small‑town governance into statewide headlines. According to the Badger Project, two sheriff’s department officers each pocketed a cool $75,000 over a three-year period while producing no citations and making no arrests. There is zero evidence that they remembered Coloma existed. It’s the kind of civic arrangement that makes you wonder if the job description was written on the back of a cocktail napkin during a particularly optimistic Friday fish fry.

Now, in the dignified tradition of Midwestern politeness, which this site on the internet highway is noted for, everyone is pretending to be surprised. “Gosh, we thought they were out there doing…something.” When I first read the report, it reminded me of teenagers avoiding chores and certain elected officials who shall remain nameless not fulfilling their obligations to the citizenry. If Coloma ever erects a monument to this era, it should be a bronze statue of an empty squad car parked behind the local gas station.

My husband comes from Maine, where there is a strong Yankee tradition of Town Meetin’. (Dropping the g is part of the ritual) This is where the New Englanders, those flinty, maple‑scented sages who invented the annual talkathon, gather in a school gymnasium to argue, gossip, vote, and occasionally threaten to secede from the next town over. It’s democracy with the volume knob turned to eleven, and it works because everyone shows up, everyone speaks up, and nobody gets paid $75,000 to do nothing.

Coloma could use a little of that energy. Imagine it. Folding chairs, crockpots with barbecue and beef stews, a microphone that squeals every time someone named Earl approaches it. A room full of locals ready to ask the important questions, like “Why did we spend $150,000 on officers who apparently live in the witness protection program?” It would be glorious. It would be chaotic. It would be a productive evening.

James has told me how a Town Meetin’ works for the past 26 years of our relationship. Sure, it can get messy and loud, and yes, grudges can go back to the Carter administration, but it forces accountability. It forces conversation. It forces the kind of communal reckoning that prevents, say, paying six figures for invisible law enforcement. My better half would tell the Coloma residents, if they need inspiration, that those in Corinth can happily argue about municipal budgets for six hours without breaking eye contact. It is an art form.

If Coloma wants to avoid becoming the punchline of every rural governance joke, it might be time to embrace the ancient rite of Town Meetin’ and ask some pointed questions about those officers who apparently mastered the Zen of Doing Absolutely Nothing.

And honestly, it would make one heck of a show.