On Becoming Stars

Remember this from the rock opera, Hair?

Good morning, Starshine, 

The earth says 'hello!' 

You twinkle above us,
We twinkle below...

While the political creatures in Pacific fight for the life of the city, there's a role for the people to play -- and that role is more critical than the role any single politician and activist might perform.

It has to do with becoming a star. At least one of our civic leaders was obsessed with stardom.

So what exactly is a star? It's a massive collection of hydrogen, so big and heavy that internal pressure crushes the hydrogen atoms together until fusion occurs and the star begins to shine. It continues to fuse hydrogen to make heavier and heavier elements. From hydrogen it creates oxygen and carbon, sulfur and aluminum, iron, and ultimately, even uranium, an element so big it cannot sustain itself and decays. the brightest stars are so enormous that they bend the space around them and bend the light that is moving through that space.

Then they blow up. And they seed the universe with the heavier elements that they cooked, and it is from those elements that life arises. 

You and I are stardust. And like the stars that made us possible, we also bend the space through which we move. Our words and deeds encourage and discourage, and the ripples of those actions flow out from us and influence others. We create reality, sometimes on a grand scale and sometimes in little ways. But it all counts. And when the City of Pacific no longer exists, what we do will still matter.

There have been those in the city who wanted to be stars, and thought that eclipsing others would make their light  seem all the brighter. But here's the real truth: A galaxy with only one star is a very dim galaxy indeed. The brightest galaxies are those with the greatest abundance of stars, and those who make the greatest difference are those who help their fellow stars to shine. It's not about you, it's about us– and others. And there is no action so small that it doesn't count.

Here's a poem I saw when I was a child that I have never forgotten. Quite likely many readers have seen it before.  It helps to have a Sunday School upbringing to grasp some of the meaning, but it really transcends religion. The message applies to all time and to all people, and it makes the point that you can never predict the impact of a kind act or a positive contribution. What you do in this community counts.  Here it is:

I asked the Lord, “What shall I do?”
And my love flowed warm and free.
Then He pointed me out a tiny spot
And said, “Tend that for me.”

I quickly replied, “Oh no, not that.
“Why, no one would ever see.
“No matter how well my work was done;
“Not that little place for me.”

The word He spoke, It was not stern,
He answered me tenderly;
“Ah, little one, search that heart of thine.
“Are you working for them or me?
“Nazareth was a little place, and so was Galilee.”

While the fight continues, there's lots of little things to be done.  And everyone can add to the light.

Phoenix Rising

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: 

We are Pacific Candlelighters. We have some dreams we would like to realize. Many of those dreams are going to require your involvement and support. And we have a request. When a Candlelighter comes to you with an idea, we ask that you encourage that individual, so we can work together to make Pacific "The City to Come Home To." 

 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

Phoenix Burning

...two armies that fight each other is like one large army that commits suicide...

(French soldier Henri Barbusse in his novel "Le Feu", 1915)

I’m pretty well convinced that nothing is going to save the City of Pacific. While I was out of town there was what appeared to be a staged media event in which Pacific police were compelled, due to the city attorney’s instructions, to arrest the mayor for trying to obtain access to records that were being protected so that he wouldn’t continue to destroy them. In the videos were several rabble rousers, including Howard Erickson, Pacific’s former mayor, who was booted out of office eight years ago for his belligerent incompetency, including losing the city’s insurance. With the city’s insurance virtually forfeit for the second time, it appears that Mr. Erickson may be poised to deliver the death blow. This latest soap opera just puts a tidy ribbon atop the city’s coffin.

In the background to this side show is a reported request by Pacific Councilwoman Leanne Guier for an investigation into "violation of  police practices and procedures involving treatment of in-custody individuals." 

Meanwhile, there are reports that a member of the police department appears to be involved in the campaign to recall the very mayor his fellow policemen were arresting. It’s not clear how many other people are playing both sides of the fence. I suspect the insurance carrier is wondering what sorts of things which have been swept under the rug are just waiting to be discovered.

The announcement of the city’s insurance carrier that it will cancel coverage at the end of the year comes a little late. More than two years ago, I told the carrier’s broker that the mayor and public safety director had violated federal law by trying to suppress a civil rights march. And in 2010, at the time the Klickitat County Sheriff’s Office was filing a report stating that they believed Pacific’s public safety director had abused his authority, their attorney was taking depositions that should have curled their hair and kept members of the city council’s Public Safety Committee awake at night. Did Mayor Richard Hildreth really not know? Did he really not tell public safety committee members Gary Hulsey and Clint Steiger?

All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing—and, in Pacific, that’s what they did, following the removal of Mr. Erickson eight years ago. The city was on the cusp of developing a healthy body politic, but a charlatan tested the waters with a power grab that told him the council would allow him more power than he was entitled to, and from then on no-one was willing to speak up about abuse of power.

The chickens came home to roost last November, when Cy Sun was elected and descended on the city like the Biblical plague of locusts that tormented Pharoah’s Egypt. Pharoah had it coming, but not necessarily his subjects. In Pacific, a lot of innocent bystanders are now paying the price of the negligence of the people they elected. This sad buffoon has once again betrayed the voters, just as Richard Hildreth did eight years ago and Howard Erickson before him. It never ends.

For myself, I want to start by making amends.

I owe Pacific Partnerships an apology. Yeah, that’s what I said. When did anyone in any position of advantage in Pacific ever apologize to anyone? I’m going to show you how it’s done. An ideal apology has four parts: 

1. You state what you did. 
2. You state what was wrong with what you did. 
3. You state how you feel about it. 
4. And you ask for forgiveness.

Here’s what I did: I said Mayor Cy Sun wasn’t invited to Pacific Days; I was told that, and I believed it. Several people have told me he was indeed invited, and he was invited in such a way that it would be really hard for him to honestly claim he wasn’t. I believe those people.

Here’s what was wrong with what I did: I have had the kind of experiences with Mr. Sun over the past two years that should convince any intelligent person he is about as credible as his predecessor. Like his predecessor, he is less concerned about what is true than he is about winning. I should have fact checked. I knew better. In a moment of weakness I was careless.

Here’s how I feel about what I did: I’m embarrassed and ashamed. I was reckless, and I’m sincerely sorry about it, because I undoubtedly hurt the feelings of some people who are doing good things for the community and deserve positive recognition for their efforts instead of implying they were inconsiderate. That was just wrong.

And here’s my request for forgiveness: I hope that those of you who were shortchanged by my report will honor me by keeping our lines of communication open and giving me and others a chance to help you make this a better community in whatever way I can contribute. God knows you need all the encouragement you can receive. You are swimming against the current.

There. See how easy that was? I did it, and it didn’t hurt a bit. And I meant it. It was sincere.

I hope it serves as an example, because it’s time for a number of other people to apologize as well, including a whole bunch of individuals who were public officials with me and after me and who let the community down by not putting a stop to unethical and tasteless behavior which laid the ground work for what’s going on today. They could have stopped it, and they didn’t.

For a majority of the three-plus decades I lived in Pacific, alcoholics and sometimes disturbed individuals manipulated by those alcoholics have poisoned the politics of the city. Attempts to interdict that behavior have been thwarted by the alcoholics, the disturbed individuals, and the people who tolerated the behavior.

Eight years ago the voters chose to chart a new course and the elected officials flubbed it. Since then the city was told many times of misbehavior;  if there had been an acknowledgement of the transgressions and appropriate apologies made, I don’t think the city would be in the crisis that it now faces. Cy Sun was elected due to the personal failure of many public officials for many years.

Stop the madness! It’s probably too late to save the city. But it isn't too late to begin preparing to rise from the ashes and build a new sense of community. The Romans didn’t necessarily leave Italy just because Rome got sacked. The same will be true of Pacific. Like the mythical Phoenix that was consumed by fire and rose from its own ashes, the community of Pacific may rise from the ashes of the city.

On vacation

I am out of town, without comfortable access to my own computer. I note readers' comments are being formatted in increasingly thinner columns. Ugh. Can't be helped for now. Try to bear with me.

And don't burn down the town in my absence. I'd hate not having the opportunity to voice a timely opinion about the conflagration.

Later...

Insults and questions

Greetings, readers.

I think I know how Cy Sun must feel right about now.

 Several years ago, I had a phone call from the Superintendent of the Auburn School District. She was quite distraught. There had been an awards ceremony –the  first of its kind, and it involved an honor bestowed in the name of my wife, Betty Smith, a school board member for 10 years. She died in 2002 due to complications from a stem cell transplant to cure her lymphoma, cancer of the lymph system.

Betty, a school social worker, had been active in the Auburn-Pacific community. She had worked on the library board, spearheaded the Alpac Boosters Club (which later became the Alpac  PTA), chaired the planning commission, and from there was appointed to fill a school board vacancy, and subsequently elected twice. While on the board she worked to improve cooperation among small local governments by helping create the Auburn Cities and Schools Forum. In response to the Columbine High School massacre, she promoted creation of Auburn School District's annual Reaching Out Fair. The Betty Smith Spirit of Education Award was given annually to people who had contributed to supporting community.

The Auburn School Superintendent was distraught because, after the award was presented, someone had the presence of mind to ask, "Why wasn't Robert here tonight?" The follow-up question: "did anyone think to invite him?"

The superintendent's voice said it all—she was humiliated and deeply apologetic for an incredibly demeaning oversight. I realized what had happened and told her it was not her fault. I knew that the person who began the process that led to creation of the award was puffing himself up and riding on her coattails. Remembering the man who was married to her for 31 years was not on his agenda.

It appears that the same quality of insult may have been delivered this week to Cy Sun, mayor of Pacific. I’m under the impression that no-one invited him to participate in Pacific Days this year. Yes, he has made a number of individuals angry with his approach to cleaning house at  city hall, and yes, he undoubtedly has made some grievous errors. But not even providing him the opportunity to make an appearance –which  offers at least the remote possibility to start mending fences—just looks mean, and throws gasoline on the fire.  

I don't know whether an apology would be accepted, but if he wasn’t invited, and if there is anyone who has any sense, that individual  will scramble to sincerely offer one. And the sooner the better. 

And speak loud and clear, because while Mr. Sun was earning his war medals, the grenade that didn't kill him nevertheless badly damaged his hearing. For those of you who don't suffer hearing loss, you don't have the remotest idea of how debilitating and isolating that condition can be.

Next  subject:

 I have questions about the possible recall of Mayor Sun, which would have the effect of throwing out the voters' decision in last fall's election.

• Who are the donors, how much are they giving, and how do they stand to benefit? I challenge my journalist friend, Jeanne Fancher, who publishes the Pacific City Signal, (http://pacificcitysignal.tumblr.com/) to ask the same questions and publish the answers.
• Who's waiting in the wings to snatch the mayor's seat, and could that person have paid more attention to the abuses that got Mr. Sun elected?
• Do you believe the recall will prevent the city from losing its insurance Dec. 31? If so, why?
• How is this recall going to build a better community?

These are the sorts of questions to be expected if the recall goes forward. 
Your response is invited. 

As promised: Truth and consequences

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread 

– Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism

There is momentum behind the movement to recall Pacific Mayor Cy Sun. Attorneys have been contacted and a group of people are in the process of looking for money to sustain the recall.

It’s time to play Truth AND Consequences.

First of all, the truth: 

Over the past several years, Pacific’s elected officials have been told repeatedly of abuses by city representatives which went unpunished. Even the governor got involved. People’s rights were violated. People who tried to address the council were disregarded, demeaned and in some cases threatened. When the council was told about, and even witnessed abuses, the members failed to intervene. (If any of the city’s public officials want to debate this with me, I’m prepared to lay out a string of facts that they really don’t want to confront.) The chickens came home to roost, resulting in the election of Mayor Cy Sun, and now there are some individuals who are outraged at his admittedly rough manner of operating. 

Some of them just can’t wait to get a recall election on the ballot.

The voters who elected Mayor Sun were not fickle; they were outraged. Running alone, he was underestimated and dismissed as a novice. He didn’t disagree, and after he surprised all his detractors by getting elected, he asked for support. Instead, he was confronted with sore losers. The incumbent claimed Mr. Sun wouldn’t last and one member of the council tried to make sure of that by bringing criminal charges down on his head with claims that he didn’t earn his war medals. The new mayor was insulted at the door by individuals he would have to work with. In this cesspool of acrimony, some department heads quit and others have been dismissed or put on suspension, and the city’s insurance carrier has cancelled insurance coverage effective Dec. 31, with the proviso it might change its mind if it sees marked improvement in the political and administrative health of the city. Meanwhile, Mr. Sun has circled the wagons and said he will not resign, and he will only leave office if he is recalled. Recalling him will take so long the city likely won’t have time to meet the insurance carrier’s demands. The recall backers know this, and yet they press on.

There is a variety of possible outcomes in this vitriolic situation. Let’s do what the military does: play some war games and consider the outcomes:

Game A: The recall builds momentum. $15,000 is tendered to hire a competent attorney to put an effective recall together. As the case builds, Cy Sun continues to hold out, but can’t find anyone who wants to work in a city with Pacific’s reputation. The split between council and mayor is matched by a growing rift in a populace torn by the infighting and the possibility the city will shut down. Fingers are pointed.  The recall succeeds. But the city loses its insurance coverage anyway, for lack of competent staff. At the risk of incurring personal liability, city officials quickly resign to protect their own personal assets. The city sustains a blow it cannot endure and disincorporates. The residents remain mad at each other for years. Some of the deep pockets that funded the recall benefit from the dissolution of the city.

Game B: Miraculously, new, competent staff are hired by the mayor despite the ongoing recall fight. The council confirms them. Mayor Sun is recalled anyway, and leaves town. The insurance carrier continues coverage at the same favorable rate as before. All the residents are happy with the outcome. Life gets better. A member of the council resigns to take the office of mayor, and the Tooth Fairy fills the new council vacancy.

Game C: The mayor is recalled; the city loses its current carrier, but continues to exist by acquiring a more expensive carrier which offers more limited coverage. Chastened by the higher cost of liability insurance and the diminished coverage, city officials have no choice but to adopt more professional standards and develop the backbone to enforce them. Adopting those standards is not easy, because the same individuals remain in office, they don’t want to admit they did anything wrong, and they have already demonstrated an inability to learn. The populace, following the wrenching recall fight and the disclosures that come from it, is split. Some favor the new arrangement, others are bitter and distrustful, particularly because of the higher operating costs for city government. Because of its history and the acrimony, Pacific city government remains less likely to attract qualified individuals to participate. However, it has no choice but to exercise caution for fear of higher insurance rates or no insurance at all. Because of its fear of losing insurance, it goes lightly on enforcement, and businesses push the limits.

Game D:The recall takes a back seat to an emerging community awareness.  The fight creates the opportunity for people to reconnect, and identify common interests, which become the core of community building. There emerges a cadre of community-minded individuals who are professional in their endeavor and selfless in their outlook and who are disgusted with the numerous abuses which led to the watershed election/recall.  A true community emerges not because it is the right thing to do, but because people have rediscovered and like each other. Their shared interests have a natural way of sifting out the exploiters so that the cream rises to the top. From this emerging community of committed individuals, leaders are identified who become the new corps of city government. The lessons learned last for a generation.

Game E: As the consequences of their actions become more apparent, the city’s elected officials realize that, just as in nuclear war, there are not going to be any winners. Apologies are offered – and accepted. In a sort of private “truth and reconciliation commission” action, a tacit understanding emerges that mistakes were made and then compounded through fear and ignorance. A good-faith effort is made by the leading antagonists to recognize shared interests and values, and to work together for the sake of the population being served by the city. Residents roused to action by the ongoing fight consider how close the city has come to the brink and they step back, gaining a new resolve to expect a higher standard of conduct from their leaders and a higher level of community participation by themselves. A community blog, run by the residents, not the government, emerges that ties the community together. Despite the $15,000 outlay, the recall effort is abandoned. Some of the donors realize it would have been cheaper to demand higher standards from their government. Others regret that the city didn't implode, so that they could live life unencumbered by regulation.

Game E, addendum: The Pacific population adopts a simple truth:  Regardless of what one military officer claimed during the Vietnam war, it isn’t necessary to destroy a town in order to save it.

The emperor’s new clothes

This story didn’t make much sense to me when my dad read it to me while I was about five years old. Now I think it get it.

It seems that in the land of Cathay—the place we now call China – there were two clothiers who nowadays we would call shysters – in English of course. There probably is a Chinese equivalent, but who’s to say?

Anyway, these two clothiers showed up one day in the Emperor’s court with wondrous news: They had developed a new fabric which was so delicate and refined, that it was virtually weightless, and sheer enough in its appearance that only intelligent people could see it. So persuasive were these clothiers that, while the story seemed outlandish, the emperor was mesmerized and ordered an entirely new wardrobe. The clothiers immediately set to work, measuring , cutting and joining the rich cloth, while courtiers looking on, nodding that, indeed, it was the finest fabric they had every laid eyes on. The emperor, not to appear to be ignorant, calmly agreed, for fear that any display of disbelief on his part might undermine the confidence his minions would have in him.

Finally the great day arrived for the emperor to display his fine vestments, and he ascended the staircase to a majestic float which was part of a grand parade through the capital city of Cathay. Having been informed of the wondrous nature of the emperor’s garments, the subjects gathered from miles around to witness the spectacle, as great marching bands passed. Among the viewers was a small girl, who wanted to be part of the festivities, and therefore, sitting atop her father’s shoulders, she blew into a reed flute, whistling a tune to match the majestic song of the musicians. Everyone was in awe, and—privately—ashamed for they lacked the confidence to admit that they could not see the garments. Not so the little girl. No-one heard the whistle fall from her lips as her hands and mouth opened in surprise, but some heard her audible shout when she exclaimed, “But His Highness! His Hiney!

And yes, as the float passed, there it was in plain view, His Hinness’ Hiney was Hanging for all to see. Soon a murmur, then a rumble, then a shout, bracketed by exuberant laughter flowed from the crowd, as the paean grew in strength: "His Highness! His Hiney! His Highness, His Hiney!”

And at last, His Highness realized that indeed, he had been fooled, and that the fine vestments he thought were covering his Hiney were merely a sham, and a testament to the failure of his minions and his own blind naivety. 

But, being the emperor, there was nothing to do but finish the parade, and moon the onlookers, and so the show went on…

Now when I heard that story, it made absolutely no sense to me. Why didn’t the emperor cover up, I asked. But my father just smiled. Being an adult with many years of experience, he knew why the parade went on. And you probably do, as well.

But do you know what happened to the little whistle blower? In all the excitement she vanished in the crowd, and no-one, not even her parents, could find a trace of her. So a second lesson to take away from this story is an explanation of why people don’t speak up when they know something’s haywire.

Tomorrow’s story: Truth and Consequences.