It is time for the people who live within the boundaries of the corporate entity called "Pacific" to rediscover themselves, to share their aspirations and to shake off the poison that a handful of individuals have spread within this city. The city may die—it probably will die—but the people, like the mythical Phoenix, can rise from its ashes, if only they have a place to stand. Here's a vision I shared with the city council 12 years ago shortly before the madness went into high gear. Each one of you probably has a vision of equal value. If you wish to share it, this blog is at your disposal. Please—since we are creatures who follow our gaze—share your vision of how you would like this tiny portion of the world to be.
Sincerely,
Robert Smith
An Appeal to the City Council
On January 24, 2000, a representative of Pacific Candlelighters shared the vision of this group with the Pacific City Council. Here are the comments that were read into the record.
Mr. Mayor, Members of the City Council
My name is Robert Smith, I live at 101 Milwaukee Boulevard South, and I am a representative of a community group, the Pacific Candlelighters. We work on projects to improve our community. Among one of them was the holiday lighting program which recognized local residents for their lighting displays during the Christmas season. We have the same objectives you have: to make Pacific a better place to live. The difference is that as city officials, you do what you have to do; as Candlelighters, we do what we want to do. So we have more fun than you do.
I am here today to ask for your support of our group, but first I would like to give you a clear vision of some of the things we dream about. And I think the best way to share this is to tell you about an event that occurred involving a newcomer to our community on a spring afternoon in the year 2010.
The individual was driving home after a long, tiring day of work. As she pulled off the freeway she caught the smell of the cedar grove and wildflowers that Pacific citizens had planted along the offramp as part of their city beautification program. The off-ramp had become a wonderful welcome mat to people arriving in the city, and among the flowers was the familiar sign, with that familiar, corny, slogan:
Welcome to Pacific, The City to Come Home To.
Toward the end of the 20th Century, city council members decided they wanted Pacific to become a destination city. But the more they thought about it, the more they realized it already was a destination city —for nearly 6,000 people who came back here every night to be with their families and neighbors. And that's when they started seriously considering the new slogan.
This woman turned left, and drove east to the Alpac School. She turned toward City Hall, passing the 20-acre wetland park, that forestry students from a local community college had helped organize. At Third Street, she turned left and noticed a group of people posting handbills on the kiosk by the bus stop. The town didn't have a newspaper, but the kiosk carried news about lost pets, cars for sale, recitals, and anything that people wanted to tell their neighbors about. Yes, some scraps of paper hit the ground occasionally. But taking five minutes to clean it up once a day was worth the cost of tying the community together.
The woman headed for the park. It was Wednesday, and the karaoke singers were already warming up on the stage. Occasionally a band would jam there, and sometimes a young woman with a voice like Joan Baez would stop by with her guitar. Pacific had become known as the place that encouraged music in its park by the river.
When the woman arrived at the park, she noted the flier on the kiosk announcing the 10th annual Pacific City-Wide Yard Sale. This event had grown until more than 100 Pacific families showed up each year to set up a booth and sell the trash and treasures that people in the past had sold at their driveways. The entry fee was discounted if you donated to the food bank; you got your all money back if you cleaned up your area entirely. People came from as far as Tacoma and Issaquah to haggle. The yard sale had become notorious as a place where you could get a good deal, have a great time, make friends, and go away feeling good.
As our lady thought about having her own yard sale booth, she walked through the "People's Arboretum." that landscaped the river bank. The plants there were tagged with the names of the individuals who had donated them from their own yards. The arboretum wasn't the greatest one in the world, but it was a demonstration of people who had poured their hearts into a project they were proud of.
There were kids running back and forth over the river on the footbridge that had been built by donations, matching funds and grants and a lot of community involvement. Everyone loved this bridge. It had become a symbol for the city. And this bridge had a name: The New Hope Footbridge. Officially, this was a geographic place name to honor the individual from a nearby church who suggested the project. But no-one was fooled by that explanation. Everyone knew that this bridge represented a new hope in the City of Pacific that we would devote our time to building bridges instead of walls.
She drove home and turned on her TV to the government channel. She had no intention of watching static images listing the vacancies on the boards and commissions in Pacific. There weren't any vacancies. Through community projects such as these, leaders emerged and were invited to participate in city government; yes, they came for the fun, but some of them stayed for the work.
No, what this woman wanted to watch was Pacific City News, the television program put on by local teenagers and advised by a retired college instructor. The kids were having the time of their lives running their own TV show, and people in Pacific were learning more about their town than any commercial media had ever told them.
But tonight, something strange was happening. There was a videotape of a mother who was doubled over, holding her stomach and weeping. This was a surprise. Our viewer recognized the woman; she had been involved in the holiday lighting program for several years now -- the one that had grown so much over time that Pacific became known as the "City of Light" to people driving by on the freeway.
So she recognized this woman, and she wanted to know what was happening to her to make her cry? As the camera panned back, she found out.
She was at a T-ball game with little tykes so small that their headgear practically fell over their eyes. The kids would swing until they hit the ball, and then they would look around to ask which way to run. None of the kids could catch or throw, so they would pick up the ball and chase each other around the bases; if you caught him, he was out. If he outran you, he was home free. There wasn't a parent on camera who wasn't laughing at the sight. Someone videotaped the event and shared it with the teenage newscasters.
And it was at this point that our lady thought about that sign at the freeway entrance: Pacific, the City To Come Home To. The message didn't seem so corny any more. She liked these people. She wanted to be part of this community. This was turning out to be a really good place to live.
Mr. Mayor, Members of the City Council:
Friends, if you have a vision for what the community of Pacific can be like when the civil war is over, I encourage you to share it now.
Robert
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