Last week, we traveled out of state. We were having dinner at a restaurant when my wife struck up a conversation with folks seated at a nearby table. . . . (My wife is blessed with the gift of initiating friendships with anyone, any time, anywhere.) It turned out that our newfound friend was a doctor from California — a radiologist. Among other things, he said the neuroradiology department at the University of Utah is considered the best in the world — better than Harvard or Stanford or any other. He said if it weren't for Utah's poor public schools, he and his family might consider moving here. We also talked about the Olympics then under way in Italy, and I recalled what a great, exciting, positive experience the 2002 Olympics were for all of Utah.

Later, on the way home we crossed the Utah state line. Suddenly, the road was rougher — the rest stops fewer, more difficult to access, and less well-maintained. I thought of overcrowded classrooms, outdated textbooks and falling college participation rates.

What happened to the "can do" attitude we used to have? Where were the thousands of "volunteers" who should have been demanding action from the Legislature? (A successful education system is hundreds of times more important than a successful Olympics.) Why do we allow anti-education lawmakers to grossly underfund Utah higher education when it can produce "the best in the world"? Why do we favor "nice people" over those with wisdom, foresight and courage? When are we going to stop killing neighbors because Utah roads and highways are poorly designed and poorly maintained?

The "nice people" patted themselves on the back for slightly reducing the sales tax on food. But watch how much time they waste next year trying to decide what is food and what is not food. Bottled water? Twinkies? Soft drinks? Truffles? Red licorice? And how long before some clever accountant figures out how to classify a new Mercedes as food? A food-defining bureaucracy is surely on its way.

In the meantime, we have real problems, real issues, real needs — none of which are sausages.

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G. Donald Gale is president of Words, Words, Words Inc. He wrote six thousand editorials for KSL, plus books, documentaries, speeches, and countless letters of apology. His column appears monthly.