When I saw the photograph on the front page of the newspaper showing how a chain was holding together our bridge across the mighty Mississippi River, I was surprised. Maybe you were too.

My surprise, however, was because I know how much chains cost. I would have used duct tape instead.

While some of you might chide the Missouri Department of Transportation for holding the old bridge together with chain, I would question why MoDOT was wasting my money. Heck, I'll buy the duct tape if it's going to break the state budget.

And we all know how tight state finances are right now.

Look at our university. It has cut more than $5 million out of this year's spending because that mean old governor or that mean old legislature or somebody else mean and old in Jefferson City wouldn't give it to them.

Now that the university has whittled away at its budget, I have to ask: Is the dome on Academic Hall safe? Are there any chains we need to know about?

And look at the Cape Girardeau checking account. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Are our fire trucks being held together with rubber bands?

I'll bet if we could see under and behind a lot of things we take for granted, we'd be surprised at the amount of tape, wire, screws, staples, twine and glue that provide the thin margin between life and death.

But most of us don't spend a lot of time looking for the flaws in the world around us. We have developed a sense of confidence that permits us to go about our daily lives without checking under the elevator or questioning the cracks in the foundation of a 100-story skyscraper.

Gee whiz, most of us don't even bother to see if our tires are fully inflated when we get into our cars or whether a bomb timer has been connected to our car's ignition.

We don't worry about these things because we're normal. People who worry incessantly about such matters are given huge doses of expensive drugs. The rest of us simply trust that the manufacturer of the jetliner in which we are seated knew what it was doing all along.

Most of us have been comforted at one time or another by the soothing words of people who tell us not to worry when, in fact, they have no clue. These are people who, by virtue of their employment, are sanctioned to lie through their teeth if it will prevent public bedlam.

For example, I'm sure you've been on a commercial jetliner at one time or another and noticed smoke coming from the wing on your side of the plane. Sure you have. So you say to a cabin attendant, "Miss, I think I saw smoke coming from the wing." To which she replies with a polite smile, "Oh, that's entirely normal. Nothing to worry about."

She's paid to say that.

But look at the knuckles on her clenched fists. Notice that her cosmetically enhanced complexion has turned to the color of a carp's underbelly. See how she casually walks away and pretends to pay attention to other passengers. Watch as she reaches the flight deck and pounds on the door until the co-pilot comes out to check on all the commotion.

If you're a lip reader, you know the conversation is going something like this:

Cabin attendant: "Sir, the passenger in 34C saw smoke coming from the wing."

Co-pilot: "Oh, that's entirely normal. Nothing to worry about."

What I've never figured out is where the co-pilot turns for reassurance.

I think I know the answer.

I think the co-pilot returns to his seat, refastens his safety belt, reaches for his cup of coffee, takes a sip and says to the pilot: "Hey, Jim, we've got a worried passenger in 34C. Thinks he saw smoke coming from the right wing. We must be getting a little friction on that chain holding up the No. 3 engine."

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.