I was sitting at the bar at Ruby’s and my friend Rupert walked in and sat down beside me. Rupert works for one of those public opinion polling firms, so he begins every conver-sation with a question.

“Do you know what issue is top-of-mind for U.S. voters in 2024?” Rupert asked.

“That’s a no-brainer,” I replied. “It’s the presidential election. Biden versus Trump.”

“Nope,” said Rupert. 

“Immigration?”

“Nope.”

“Inflation?”

‘Nope.”

“Global warming, gun control, another pandemic?”

“Nope, nope, and nope,” Rupert replied.

“Well then, what is it?” I asked Rupert.

“Grass!” said Rupert.

“Grass?” I answered incredulously. “You mean …”

Rupert cut me off mid-sentence. “Not that kind of grass,” he explained. “I mean the controversy over grass versus artificial turf that’s playing out at Nursery Field.”

“But that’s a local issue, not a national one,” I told him. “Why do you think local organizations are called ‘grassroots’?”

“Yes, but grass has national implications,” Rupert said, sip-ping a craft beer. “Haven’t you heard? Rye is a microcosm. The whole world is watching what happens at Nursery Field. It speaks to who we are as a nation. If Rye can’t find common ground on grass, the nation could face an existential crisis and risk becom-ing a dystopian society.”

“That does sound serious,” I told Rupert as I swirled the straw in my Diet Coke. 

“You know, there’s a contagion phenomenon here,” Rupert continued. “This issue could spread to the colleges. Every college campus in the country is covered with grass. And if students are divided over artificial turf versus real grass, there could be demon-strations, with student sit-ins at the offices of university govern-ing boards. The presidents of Yale and Princeton might be forced to take sides, and before you know it, they’ll be out of a job and look-ing for other work.”

“That would be a tragic out-come,” I admitted. “But here’s an idea. I’m not in favor of artificial turf, but I am in favor of artificial intelligence. What about building an A.I. robot that seeds the soil, waters it, and mows what will surely be a lush greenery at Nursery Field?”

“That’s the answer!” Rupert confessed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”