Community Organizer

Margaret Mead said “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”

Ten years ago a small group of neighbors banded together to back down a giant. The giant was Q Prime, a well-funded corporation from New York that was committed to build an amphitheater in rural Scott County, between Shakopee and Jordan. It had purchased 100 acres and were ready to begin construction later that year. Q Prime also had started the process of obtaining the necessary permits with the planning commission. But what it had not planned on was the spirited opposition it would face from people committed to protect their homes from an invasion.

I attended Q Prime’s propaganda meeting where they tried to sell the local citizenry on the concept. They assured us that the sound emanating from the amphitheater would be barely audible, and that the traffic would be at manageable levels. We were promised that the outdoor theater would be a benefit to us with the added jobs, increased tax base and all-around good times. I guess they thought because Minnesota had elected a former fake fighter for governor, its residents would believe anything. We didn’t.

Our own informational meeting was held and everyone within earshot of the proposed amphitheater was invited. About a hundred people showed up to listen to our side of the story and to learn what they could do. From that meeting, about a dozen committed souls gathered every week for the next several years. They devoted a good part of their lives and income doing what they could to protect our treasured way of life.

Because we had banded together for a common cause I got the chance to meet some of my neighbors. Out in the country a neighbor can be anyone who lives within a couple miles of you. In our small group we had everything we needed: There was a guy who understood the lexicon of engineers, a woman who had a passion for legislative affairs, a woman skilled as an administrator and logician, men who enjoyed hanging out in garages at night building signs, a guy who knew a guy who owned “Herman” (the large advertising bull on wheels), an environmentalist who had friends in the valley, a guy comfortable with public speaking, a poetic president of a homeowner’s association, and people whose families had lived and worked on the same farms for generations. Plus there were hundreds of concerned citizens supporting the cause.

But we also had a county government that cared. The county administrator, the county board of commissioners, and the staff were approachable and available. From the beginning our homeowner’s association had decided that since “you can’t fight city hall,” (presumably the adage applied at the county level as well) we would work within the accepted limits of polite society.

We had fun. We marched in parades, we hung out at the county fair, and we got involved in helping to shape the future of the county. It was worth the effort. We won.

We didn’t bother to implement the strategies found in “Rules for Radicals” by Saul Alinsky. In that book, which seems to be the handbook for the current administration, the author begins with “What follow is for those who want to change the world from what it is to what they believe it should be." But we weren’t out to change the world – we just wanted to hang on to what we had. I only wish that those in Washington were interested in the same thing.

Summer Job

Monday is Memorial Day, the day to honor those who died for our country. Memorial Day was first observed in 1868 to honor the dead from The Civil War. Originally known as Decoration Day it later became the day to honor the American Casualties from any war. In 1971 it was moved from May 30th to the last Monday in May to create the three-day weekend.

With the summer season starting I’m thinking of taking some time off – but just for the summer. In addition to working in such a noble profession, I think teachers must also be the smartest people in the world. They have the summers off. They deserve it. I also think that maybe I could benefit from the same schedule. I’m not sure I deserve it though. I just want to do something completely different while taking a few months off from my regular job. In some circles this is called “going on a sabbatical” (from the word Sabbath, meaning to take it easy).

Clive Prout, founder of The Sabbatical Coach (a web site developed to help people explore the idea of a sabbatical) describes it as “a period away from your normal routine - a time to immerse yourself in a different environment, a chance to see your life from a different perspective.”

That’s what I need, a different routine, something to mix it up a little. Maybe I’ll get a job, you know - a summer job. Some of the most fun I ever had working was while working on a summer job. Typically (at least in my world) a summer job is not permanent, complicated or particularly demanding.

I could become an election judge. To help assure accuracy I would even bring my own abacus. Politics has always interested me. I need a line of work to prepare me for the role of a trusted elected official. How about a stint as a professional wrestler or maybe a comedian? Maybe I could work as a mortgage banker selling ARMs (adjustable rate mortgages) and LEGs (lengthy egregious gimmicks).

There seems to be some call for medical assistance available only through the internet. Maybe I could become a miracle healer. I read about the family that is resisting government mandated medical treatment for their son. They appear to be victims of a modern-day snake oil salesman selling hope to the vulnerable and uneducated.

But in addition to being conflicted over government intrusion (remember the National Organization for Women’s mantra “keep your laws off my body”) and the glaring need to protect children of all ages, I am unclear if we are talking about alternative medical practices, or alter-Native American medical practices for profit.

I could go back to school and get my law degree. There are sure to be plenty of opportunities for an enterprising attorney to make a living. If the Scott County Attorney and sheriff get their way it will become even more illegal for minors to drink alcohol. I could represent the naïve parent, handicapped by their need to be considered “cool” by the younger generation, has hosted a party for their child and their underage friends.
But maybe I’m trying to hard. It’s possible all I really need is a good book, a cold drink, some shade and bug spray. So this weekend I will start the summer by remembering those who rest in peace. After all, because of them I have the opportunity to rest and relax.

Honorary Mothers

During a speech, Hillary Clinton reminded Americans that “it takes a village to raise a child.” When I first heard Mrs. Clinton recite this proverb I did not immediately agree. This, I’m sure, had something to do with a stubborn “I’ll let you know when I need your help,” mentality.

But this last Sunday it began to make sense to me. When I was a kid, the mothers of my friends acted as representatives of all of our mothers. They were there acting as a chargé d'affaires, a stand-in, and sometimes a stunt double to fill-in for Mom when she wasn’t present.

Sunday was Mother’s Day, sometime in June it will be Father’s Day, and Children’s Day as we all know is everyday. This particular Mother’s Day was different for my brothers and sisters and I as we are still in that first year of being with out Mom. A period of adjustment is to be expected, or so I am told.

So this past Sunday, in addition to remembering my kid’s mother (my wife) and my own mother, I also thought my friends’ mothers. Most of these guys still have their mothers around for them to call, send a card to, or maybe just stop in to visit with them.

I am lucky enough to still have some of the same friends I had when I was a kid. For the life of me I can’t understand why, because some of these guys are actually quite intelligent. We spent a lot of time at each other’s homes when we were young – just hanging out. But it wasn’t all fun and drinking games. The mother on duty saw to that. Rarely was a house without a mother in it to keep watch. A few mothers had jobs outside the home – but 30 years ago most women stayed home during the day. We can argue about the merits of such an arrangement and the patriarchal society it represented; but let’s be clear – for the kids of a generation ago most homes had a mother in attendance during the day.

When the men were away at work in that baby-boom period, the women were in charge of the home and anyone occupying the house. That included children born from other women. The same rules of honoring your father and mother, and respecting your elders also applied when you were at someone else’s home. I remember being lectured right along side my friend as his mother reminded us of the reasons why our behavior needed correction.

But under extreme conditions the discipline was delayed. Men meted out the punishment. The well-worn phrase “wait until your father comes home,” was often recited to get our attention and turn us into clock watchers. A friend of mine usually didn’t have to wait until after 5 o’clock though. His Dad would bolt the 12 miles back home in 10 minutes or less to immediately correct the situation – usually throwing the car into park in the driveway while the speedometer was still displaying 30 mph.

But other than the disciplinarian role, most of the other duties were left for the mothers. They were the advice columnists for the lovelorn, bailiffs, chaperones, chauffeurs, chefs, Cub Scout den mothers, financiers, guidance counselors, jailers, movie rating bureaus, nurses, prayer warriors, referees, religion teachers, and zoologists.

So on Monday (because Sunday is reserved for their children) I called some of these mothers to wish them a Happy Honorary Mother’s Day. It may not take an entire village to raise a child. But you to do need a few caring mothers to help.

S-word

Recently it was suggested that we should drop Swine-flu from our vocabulary. Apparently we can’t blame pigs (swine) for this latest crisis. To be fair to the pigs and those in the business who bring home the bacon, the S-word should be avoided. It’s time the lowly pig got the respect it deserves.

The potential pandemic is part of a persistent public perception problem plaguing the pigs. (O.K. I got that out of my system). For years they have been ridiculed and been the butt of many a joke.

My favorite: Three guys are out for breakfast with their sweethearts and they are all trying to top each other. The first guy looks at his girl and says “Pass the honey, honey.” The second guy turns to his date “Pass the sugar, sweetie.” The third guy, not wanting to be outdone but running out of options says “Pass the bacon, pig.”

This strain of flu has people hiding in their homes of sticks and straw instead of going to the market to buy a fat pig. But the government with its proclivity for substituting words has renamed this strain of flu: H1N1 Novel Influenza Virus.

Not very catchy is it? It’s not exactly Madison Avenue quality, more like Pennsylvania Avenue. Is that the best they can come up with? It’s certainly not very creative. I expected more from our elected leaders. We have indeed cast our pearls before swine.

There have been some notable names they could have used as examples. The Black Plague, The 1918 flu, The Hong Kong Flu are titles that have held up well through history. Bird flu made a valiant effort recently, but the disease never really took off, so you can’t blame the name. You can see why the S-word stubbornly sticks around. There are two syllables to remember and recite instead of …twelve. I don’t like the new name’s chances. Flu is Flu, call it what ever you want, but you can’t put lipstick on a pig.

They could hold a naming contest. This could unite the States of America in a common cause. Here are a few suggestions: Cheney Flu, Son of Montezuma, Climate Change Flu, and The Omega Flu. I can share these names, I’m not a pig.

No one wants their name associated with a disease that threatens to go global – certainly not in these dire economic times. I think we may have gone a bit “hog-wild” though. We don’t even know if this latest scare is going to live up to its hype. Just because something is labeled a crisis doesn’t mean that people will cooperate and panic. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

But there are indications that people are concerned. Of course we must be careful. It certainly is better to be safe than sorry. Across the country schools are closing, meetings are being cancelled, trips postponed and folks are going hog-wild with hysteria.
It may be better if everyone were to stay home in bed until it’s safe again.

I think that the original name is here to stay though, because Swine-flu is just too easy to pronounce and remember. H1N1 Novel Influenza Virus? I don’t like it. People may conclude that the virus is somehow connected with the reading and writing of novels. Don’t we care about the written word anymore? What about the writer who is penning the next great American novel? Have we now placed pigs above writers? The pork lobby must be stronger than the writer’s guild. The S-word is mightier than the pen. That’s all folks.