The story in the Wednesday morning newspaper reported that a Bangor resident had complained to city officials about kids playing basketball in the streets of her neighborhood. She said the noise from the impromptu games is nerve-wracking, and the kids have been less than kind to her when she has objected.

There are an estimated 200 portable basketball hoops along Bangor’s streets, sidewalks and in private driveways, testimony to the popularity of the game of basketball in Maine. Earlier this week, the Bangor City Council’s government operations committee heard the citizen’s lament, and heard from supporters of the portable hoops, as well.

The committee has taken the matter under consideration, hoping city staff can fashion a compromise solution that will please all parties involved, including police concerned with balancing public safety with the positive aspects of kids engaging in healthy recreational pursuits, as compared to, say, smoking dope or robbing the neighborhood convenience store.

It was not that aspect of BDN reporter Dawn Gagnon’s story that intrigued me, however. It was a passage dealing with a long-standing city ordinance purportedly covering the activity, last reviewed by city officials nearly 40 years ago. The ordinance reads, in part:

“No person shall play baseball or any ball with a bat or engage in ball playing of any kind or throw any stone, brick, bats, clubs or snowballs or shoot any arrows or use any sling or other device to throw missiles or fly any kite in any street, lane or public square within the built-up portion of Bangor.”

As you can see, drafters of the ordinance covered the bases pretty well, although you’ll notice they did nothing to outlaw the heaving of the occasional dead skunk at passers-by. The oversight might not present a problem in metropolitan Bangor. But it might in some less-inhibited jurisdictions in the outback, I should think.

Writing such an ordinance must be a difficulty akin to compiling a dictionary, in trying to think of all the possibilities to be covered – all of the objects that can be thrown, tossed, hurled, heaved, chucked, slung or propelled on a public street and all the potential streetside activities that should be curbed. One can picture the architect of the ordinance waking up in a cold sweat in the dead of night after his handiwork has become law, slapping himself up side of the head, and exclaiming, “Ohmigod. I forgot to include calf-wrestling, greased-pig contests and bungee jumping.”

The Bangor ordinance brought to mind one included in a history of an up-country town, published years ago upon the town’s centennial observance. “No person shall make any indecent figure or write any indecent or obscure words upon any fence, building or public place within the town,” it read, “or deface any fence, building or other property not his own in the town by cutting, drawing with paint, posting bills or advertisements except on properly constructed billboards, or in any manner deface or injure the same…”

In a town with zero tolerance for “obscure” words, even the graffiti had to be upfront and unambiguous. Skulking around and painting obscurities such as “sesquipedalian” or “dicotyledonous” – or, in the case at hand, probably “Democrat,” as well – on neighborhood fences back in 1914 would land the natives in big trouble with the sheriff. And it would cut them no slack with the school marm, either, even if they could use the words correctly in a sentence.

Ordinances designed to regulate public conduct can be fascinating, mainly because the story behind the law is often loonier than the law itself. Research shows laws on the books in various states making it illegal to lead a bear around by a rope, speak to strangers while they are eating in a public place, take photographs of rabbits without having a license to do so. In one southern state it is against the law for a female to appear in a bathing suit on any highway within the state unless she is escorted by at least two officers, or unless she be armed with a club.

I can see where rabbits that value their privacy would insist that anyone photographing them have a license to do so. And I get why a gorgeous southern babe in a bikini out on the open road might need a club to ward off newspaper photographers, knowing that crowd as I do.

But I’d readily stand in line to buy a ticket to hear the story behind the Midwestern ban on tying a crocodile to a fire hydrant. Or the prohibition on setting your pack mule on fire.

NEWS columnist Kent Ward lives in Winterport. His e-mail address is olddawg@bangordailynews.net.