One of the dangers of the legislative process, and indeed the industry itself, is that money loses its conventional meaning. By that, I mean it stops becoming the dollar bills handed over to the nearest convenience store clerk for a tank full of gas, a jumbo soda, a moon pie, and lottery tickets. Instead, it becomes this abstract concept lost in some mathematical equation that most of us struggled with back in high school. Like a friend of mine once said, “I did pretty well in math until I got to algebra, and the teacher introduced 'x.'” Gold stars are available for all who can solve 2(-2x-3)+x = 4+-x+3x.

Those who follow the state's $70-billion budget process or find themselves hopelessly trapped in a room with an actuary trying to explain rates, understand that money is the “x.” It decides the outcome of the multiple calculations required to pay fixed costs, future expenses, and the potential costs of paying for a one-in-50-year hurricane.

One of the failures of government is that it never really explains how money functions at that level. Instead, the issue gets broken down into sound bites about taxes, programs, and the usual political rhetoric. This leaves the public with the false impression that there is no difference between how the state budget and household checkbooks are balanced at kitchen tables around the state.