CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Dear Patrick Morrisey:

Welcome to our state. West Virginians are always glad to greet newcomers, and many of our most productive citizens are those who have come from other states and fallen in love with our mountains and our people.

But I should point out that the newcomers who have been most successful are those who have a genuine interest in getting to know our history and our customs. And you have, perhaps inadvertently, sent out a signal that you do not yet "get" this. I refer, of course, to your War on Trinkets.

You made the War on Trinkets a centerpiece of your successful campaign for attorney general. And now, you plan to culminate your victory with an act of Trinket Destruction. "I think this is going to be a made-for-TV event," you proclaim.

Perhaps as a newcomer you are not aware of the significance of trinketry in West Virginia's political history. Generations of politicians wielded trinkets. Trinkets have been most beloved by senior citizens and schoolchildren.

Imagine yourself at age 70, writing to the secretary of state. You're having a problem with your well water, which seems to be going blinky. You don't know if secretaries of state help with those sorts of problems. But you see the secretary on TV a good bit, and he seems nice enough. So you write. You don't really expect an answer, but behold, here comes a letter. It tells you whom you should call about your problem. And it contains an ink pen with the secretary's name on it. You display the pen proudly, pleased that someone cares.

Imagine yourself a fifth-grader on your first field trip to the big city of Charleston, and having a pin shaped like West Virginia stuck on your shirt by the governor himself. You never forget that. And then, there's the ultimate schoolchild trinket award: the Golden Horseshoe. Oh, if you don't know what that is, Mr. Morrisey, you'd better Google it. Maybe you should study for the test yourself.

You probably don't realize that the all-time King of Trinketry was Secretary of State A. James Manchin, uncle of one of our current U.S. senators. Mr. Manchin took the art of trinketry to new heights. I myself received a certificate from Mr. Manchin to honor the publication of my first book. I didn't receive a trinket from Mr. McGraw upon that occasion, but he did call me to his office and talk to me about Abraham Lincoln. I never forgot either occasion.

Why, you may ask, did Mr. Manchin give me a certificate and Mr. McGraw regale me with thoughts about Abraham Lincoln? Because, sir, they were and are kind and decent men. They were and are quintessential West Virginians.

Let me hasten to say, I know the art of trinketry is a dying one. I know of no younger politicians, even in West Virginia, who practice it with as great a vigor as those in Attorney General McGraw's generation. Perhaps younger generations are not so eager to receive trinkets. I understand that we could pay for a great many of the state's problems with the vast amount of money we will save on trinkets. We might even be able to lower the terrible tax burden on the coal industry for good measure.

But, sir, I suspect thou doth protest too much. If I may say so, your obsession with trinketry is far greater than that of those who previously distributed the objects. Your obsession, along with your "Made for TV" event and all, amounts to anti-trinketry obsession. If the problem persists, I recommend therapy.

Perhaps I should give you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you don't really care about trinkets at all, but simply wish to steer attention away from the reality of your other positions on issues.

In any event, take care that some of your fellow public servants don't bestow upon you a rather large trinket -- a T-shirt that reads, "I'm Not From Here."

Giardina is a novelist and teacher.