An Explanation of Sorts

The foregoing blog post was the result of my own efforts. Me, myself, alone. My friend Heather is not available.

I have to tell you, I never learned to type. Hunt and peck is all I possess. That one space follows a comma and two follow a period is something Heather has been trying to impress upon me. Most often, I have to go back and insert the spaces. It doesn't always work.

Weird line spacings appears in the completed blog which are a total mystery to me. I have no idea how they got there.

I re-write stuff repeatedly before it sounds right. It's not a problem if I am just typing. But add it to the business of navigating the blog and there are still things that mystify me. If I publish instead of saving as a draft things get so quickly convoluted,I have no idea what to do next.

That's where Heather comes in. She tidies the stuff and makes it look right. She finds clip art and pictures and sometimes creates the illustrations. Putting it together is truly a co-operative effort and highly satisfying. When I see it after Heather finishes with it, it is something quite different and delightful. Doing it myself doesn't have the same sense of accomplishment. But it doesn't seem to deter me.

Heather's not available right now. That's why that last blog took shape before your very eyes. She will probably do some fixing when she is again available. I look forward to seeing the pictures she will come up with to illustrate the point.

In the meantime, I am all you've got.

The Dance of the Seven Veils

The town has a web site. The link is on this page. Everything about the town's goings on that anyone can think of, is on the web.

In 2006, it was re-designed at a cost of $70,000. The monthly maintenance fee is $5000 and the licensing fee is $8000. Staff time for posting is 14 hours a week at an annual cost of $19000. We have barely discovered the many uses to be made of this exciting new communication tool.

We spend between $48 and $52 thousand dollars a year on the Notice Board which appears in the Era Banner weekly. Our staff do all the layout. So there is an additional man hour factor. The circulation is upwards of 70,000 but not all in our area. So the payback is not all benefit.

We put town documents in the library for public viewing. They are at the desk of the Corporate Services department in the Town Hall for anyone needing access. The benefit there is people can ask for help in interpreting the jargon.

People can buy town documents at a cost of production. Depending on the size, the fee can range from a couple of dollars to three hundred dollars.

A couple of weeks ago, council passed a resolution to allow people to sign out documents free of charge for a period of two weeks.

There was no input from staff about how to implement the new plan. Would the documents be loose leaf ? Would they need to be bound? Would there be a penalty if the documents were not returned? Would the cost of the documents be charged if they were not returned? If not, why not? And how would that be accomplished? Would staff have to go out and track down the documents to recover them?

The resolution was strangely silent in that regard although quite verbose in others. It can be read on the Town's web site, in the minutes.

Part of the resolution, directed staff to provide free copies of budget documents to an individual who regularly attends budget meetings. It had been done informally and unofficially, now it is part of official policy to give preferential treatment to one citizen.

Other than the person referred to above, there is no demand from citizens for free copies of town documents. Most taxpayers probably recognize that everything has a cost. If not paid for with a fee from the person who wants it, it will certainly be paid for by a tax on everyone else.

So, readers can see, all kinds of things are happening in the interest of openness and transparency.

I wrote a letter to the editor last week giving a synopsis of events leading to a closed door discussion on Aurora Cable's intention to erect three small wind turbines for a back-up supply of power. I offered no criticism. I set out the sequence of events and allowed readers to form their own conclusions.

That is apparently not the openness and transparency some council members have in mind for the dissemination of public information.

Their Cheatin' Hearts

I am not easily horrified. I am not cynical but I am skeptical. I have just finished reading an incredible article in the February 9th edition of Maclean's. It purports to prove that 53% of university students cheat to obtain their degrees.

So far, it has not hit the newspaper headlines or the television media.Why is that, I wonder?

My mind goes back to that day in Kingston, when Jeffrey Simpson told thousands of graduating students that it's alright to be skeptical but not cynical.

There they all were, in their robes and mortars, filing in with their professors, all of them in their coloured silks. Students kneeling before the Rector on his throne receiving their diplomas and silks as a symbol of their higher learning achievement. Parents in tears of pride bursting into cheers as the name of an offspring is called.

Was everyone there aware that more than half of the graduates had cheated their way to that day? My goodness that's a hard one to accept.

What an irony. The subject of Jeffery Simpson's speech was the ethics of politicians and public servants. He was urging the students not to judge too harshly. What were they thinking as they listened?

What did they see on the faculty side of things that might have encouraged them to think cheating was acceptable

Apparently the statistics are even worse in the U.S.

I remember thinking when the current American President's academic credentials were the subject of public discussion. It was pointed out he had attended his father's Alma Mater. Reference was made to annual generous donations to the university from the President's father.

I wondered at the time - what are the chances of the son of a generous benefactor to a university coming out of that university without a degree?If a person has enough money to buy a place in a university and subsquently a degree , why would that circumstance be more acceptable to society than cheating?

Another thought occurs- how much does the $30.thousand plus debt a student faces at the end of his studies influence what he is prepared to do to get that degree .

Apart from the inevitable harm to the community of having people who are not what they profess to be - what does it do to the individual's self-image to know he is a fraud? How corrosive is that? Or does that just prove to them how clever they are?

What about all the people who come from other countries, who cannot work in their professions here because their credentials might not meet our “standards”?

And what about all the people who don't cheat? The ones who earned their degrees with hard work and ability.... How should we know how to tell the difference ?

Mind you, over the years, I have encountered individuals who made me wonder, just how hard can it be to collect this degree or that?Of course, they may have been the cheaters and it wasn't that hard to tell.

I guess I just didn't know what I was seeing.

A Letter to the Editor

The last meeting of council prior to an election is a favourite venue for lobbyists to pressure councillors to accede to their demands.

Sadly, their efforts are usually successful.

It was no different last year. Three residents from Ridge Road demanded council enforce conditions of an OMB decision on Aurora Cable.

The trio had objected to the application before a Committee of Adjustment hearing. The application was granted. They filed an Appeal to the Ontario Municipal Board. They had legal representation as did Aurora Cable.

The O.M.B. approved the application. Now they were at council to insist conditions be immediately complied. Seven councillors were present. Despite staff advice there were no time limits for conditions to be met, four members directed staff to meet with Aurora Cable and direct them to comply.

The Ridge Road Trio had been to council before with their arguments. They have been several times since, during the new term. They bring sheafs of papers citing federal and provincial laws and regulations. They persist in their dispute with town staff as to definitions of town zoning and the provincial building code. They bring pictures.

Holding the door open for the ongoing onslaught is the support of four councillors and the Mayor. The last motion from Councillor Evelina MacEachern directed staff to submit a written definition of the word "storage".

ACI have sent their envoy to council again and again to outline their intentions and good faith.Their plans are to secure a back-up of energy by the use of three small wind turbines, a conservation measure ...and green technology.

Finally, Jim Irvine, owner of ACI sent a letter outlining a two year history of following advice of Aurora staff at every step of the way in their endeavour.

Still, the Mayor declared to council her willingness to meet with the Ridge Road Trio, town staff and ACI representatives on their property to find a "solution".

Walter Mestrinaro, of the Ridge Road Trio issued a challenge. Let ACI, the residents and the town go to court and seek a decision.

Councillor McEachern declared herself willing.

Subsequently, a letter was received from Mr. Irvine declaring the door is closed to further discussion.

The latest development has seen the issue retreat behind closed doors. Councillor McEachern indicated the object was to determine the town's legal liability should there be a catastrophe on the site.

The town's interest is never harmed by an open discussion of insurance liability in any matter. This was no reason for a secret meeting.

In fact, there is no reason, nor has there been since the OMB decision, for any further discussion.

ACI's experience at the hands of four councillors and the Mayor, is a classic example of why the Ontario Municipal Board was created in the first place. There are matters of citizen's rights, which simply cannot be left to the vagaries of the political arena.

At last week's meeting, Walter Mestrinaro was appointed to the Committee of Adjustment by a vote of the same four councillors and the Mayor.

Cherry Delight!

One of our top honchos told me once, he would have a double shot of scotch at home after a council meeting. I used to go home and watch Barney Miller, a comedy in a cop shop in the N.Y.P.D. I watched it so often, I practically knew all the dialogue.

Every show took place in a single shift. The players were detectives, arrestees, wives and love interests of detectives, a short cop from downstairs who brought up the mail and aspired to be a detective, a close to retiring inspector with a proclivity for political incorrectness and presiding over it all with perpetual bemusement - Barney Miller, the station captain.

It was mostly dialogue, and because it was so believable, it was sheer genius and pure enjoyment.

Nowadays I watch West Wing. It's a drama. Again, dialogue is it's strength. In the last season of the show, they changed writers. It was still good but the characters had too many lines and they were too clever. I watch it but it's not always enough. I still I lie awake thinking.

The other night my thoughts were about change in the council agenda. An item in every meeting calls for “new business”. Councillors can bring forward matters without having to go through the formal process of filing notice etc. They can seek explanations or draw attention to a problem or give notice of motion. But... that's not how it's used now.

My daughter always asks how things are going in the new council. I told her about the new practice. I said it's like it used to be when you were in kindergarten at Show and Tell. I gave her a couple of examples. “Oh no, mother," she said,”Nowadays that's called Sharing."

“Right” I said, light dawning, “That's exactly what it is!”

I didn't go to a number of the Mayor's gatherings that started within thirty-six hours of the election. I don't know the advice given to new members.

Obviously, there is change. So, how do I deal with change? Do I have to deal with it? Maybe, I should just “get with the program.”

That's how, when I was lying awake thinking about “the program”, the idea came to me. I knew it was fiendish because it was my idea, and it made me giggle into my pillow.

I would obtain a crown, a sceptre and an orb. I would don the regalia in council at the new business item on the agenda and declare myself to be “EvelynBuck.com... Queen of Blog” and I would invite everyone to visit my blogspot.

I confided my plan to my friend, Heather, “She of Artistic Layout of Blog”. She immediately sourced a supply, a shop on Main Street in the town immediately to the north of us, which shall be nameless.

“What about a purple robe trimmed with ermine tails?” she said. “I found a pattern.”

“I have purple velvet in my fabric stash,” I said.

“Great!” she said, “I'll bring the camera.”

Then she said the fateful words, “You wouldn't really have the nerve, would you?”

“Indeed I would,” says I. And for the rest of the day until mid-afternoon, we elaborated on the plan.

My life is like that. For the first several hours of every day, all things are possible and potentially hilarious. Life is a bowl of cherries. As evening approaches, so does sober reality and I know I can't do it.

The town is a business corporation. Council meetings are for the purpose of ...don't laugh....dealing with the town's business.

They are not simply and solely an opportunity for self-promotion. It is clear councillors have been misled and not to their's or the town's advantage.

Right Back Atcha!

Late last night the following comment was posted to yesterday's blog:

The Buckster writes "It was mentioned again, at the tribute to Tim Jones. Sometimes, I wonder, if I had not done it, what would people find to laugh about..." In reality, Ms Buck, town folk were laughing at you, not about what you did.

My reality is that I gave a full and unqualified apology for the incident. I offered no excuse. It was given before a full audience in the council chamber and on camera. It was also graciously accepted by my friend and colleague Ron Wallace.

Furthermore, since I am the one living in the goldfish bowl, I probably have as good a sense as anyone of community reaction to the event.

I am very much aware of the immediate, determined and successful effort to project the incident as something other than it was, and the damaging effect. I blame no one but myself for that.



Since there is an obvious determination to keep the story alive and it was resurrected again at the Tribute to Tim Jones by Cathy Vrancic, are you suggesting Mrs.Vrancic was using it to have another kick at the cat? All that time I thought it was a fun evening and a roast of Tim Jones.

And to "BrickBatForBuck" -- Thank you for your comment and for giving me the opportunity to speak to your perception of reality.

If you think I am such a joke in the community, why are you reading my blog? And another thing, if you are so sure you are speaking for the town folk, why don't you have the courage to provide your identity?

A Non-Issue

I was not asked. I did not say I would. So I didn't.

I have neither responsibility nor authority over the organization, I had none over the one that preceded it and even less now. We do not own Power Stream. We have no authority over Power Stream.

I have no more interest in their capital plan or their 2007 budget than I have over Bell Canada, Enbridge Gas or Aurora Cable.

I am a customer...nothing more .. nothing less. The only thing that concerns me is how much they will be charging in 2007. I don't have control of that either, but I do have an interest.

If I discovered the C.E.O. whoever he/she is has a take-home pay in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, that would annoy me. There is nothing in the bullet presentation to indicate they will touch on that subject, and I do not have a right to ask. There are some things I am better off not knowing.

Tonight is council night. It starts at 7:00 pm. It is supposed to end at 10:30 pm. It frequently goes beyond the hour of adjournment with no particular advantage. If there is going to be bad temper or irritation, it is more likely to happen in the last hour...and that shouldn't surprise anyone.

Councillors have been at work all day. Some of them no doubt commute. Hardly had time to have a meal with the family and then off to the meeting. At ten-thirty, after listening or talking for three and a half hours, the chances of anything sensible happening are considerably reduced.

It was about 10:25 pm when I swatted my old friend and colleague, Ron Wallace with a limp, thin,folded, copy of his own newspaper several years ago. It was a swat heard around the world. It didn't start a third world conflagration but it did earn a Google Alert.

It was mentioned again, at the tribute to Tim Jones. Sometimes, I wonder, if I had not done it, what would people find to laugh about.

But I digress.

I am not going tonight to listen to a powerpoint presentation from Power Stream, the company that services our municipality with power. There is a promise of pizza and pop for those who don't have time to go home for supper. I am not tempted.

Due to rate harmonization, my hydro will cost less this year.

They must be doing something right.

"True Friends Stab You In The Front" - Oscar Wilde

I tend not to waste time analysing the results of an election. What is … is - There is no point to belabour. One is either in or out. Of course, that's my head talking. What I feel in my gut is not so pragmatic.

Last night,Thursday, there was a tribute to former Mayor Tim Jones at DiNardo's Mansion. It was SPECTACULAR! $10,000 was raised for the Cancer Centre at South Lake Health Centre.

The house was sold out. The program was terriific .But I couldn't help wondering with so many enthusiastic friends and supporters how did he lose the election?

Of course everybody knows the campaign was three years long. It started the day of the previous election. The cruellest cut of all came within weeks of November 13th. .. from Dick Illingworth. This is not to say it caused Tim to lose. Dick's chosen candidate did not do well at all.

Richard enjoys tremendous respect in the community. He has been the Mayor. He knows the challenges and he has become the town guru. He wrote a column about the failure of many new small businesses.

When a person opens a business it may be the biggest gamble they will ever undertake. It may be because of a lost job at a time in their lives when it seems they might never find another.

They may be investing a severance package or mortgaging their home. It is about hope and courage and not a little fear. Every resource they have, financial and personal, may be riding on the success of this new venture.

It may just be a dream they've had forever.

Whatever the reason, nothing is more significant than the grand opening.

They look for ways to make it special. They invite everyone, have opening specials, refreshments, favours for children... maybe a hot air balloon ride. Money is spent on advertising and they invite the press. Fun and games are the order of the day.

But the ceremony is provided by the Mayor. When the ribbon is cut or the first shovel of dirt is lifted the die is cast.

It's always easy for yahoos to jeer and sneer. The reality is, people everywhere have an intuitive regard for the person who holds the highest office in the community.

On the other hand, to be the Mayor, is to want to be what people think you are. It is to be everywhere they want you to be. If it means trying to be in two places at the same time, that's what you strive to do.

At a small business opening, it is to send up a little prayer that everything hoped for will be, because the sad fact is 50% of all small businesses fail.

Being Mayor means people take you into their lives. You become part of their hopes and dreams,... their celebrations ... and sometimes their grief.

When they don't want you any more that becomes part of having been the Mayor.

The headline in the Auroran struck hard. I was not the candidate but I felt the blow.

"The Mayor is a Jinx" declared the title of the column by former Mayor Richard Illingworth.

He has reason to know better than that.

An Evening In Wonderland

Last night, Tuesday, council went into the back room with a packet of 285 applications from citizens interested in participating on advisory committees. The applications are complete with resumés and or curriculae vitae.

Seven councillors were planning to examine each one and decide who would have most to contribute to the various committees. You have to admire their energy and commitment. They finished near midnight.

I didn't go.

Until now, the selection process has been done by the Director of Corporate Services. He short-listed then counci lmade their decisions.

I don't believe advisory committees do anything that council can't do with less staff ...expense...and paper production. Oh My God - the paper!. I have to dig myself out to get out of the house! Multiply that by a factor of many and imagine the payroll to produce that stuff ...and the machinery …the space ... the paper... and you are paying for all of it.

Think of the paper the power used to manufacture it .. print on it ... distribute it ... and ultimately re-cycle it .If the "reduce re-use and recycle" philosophy can't be applied at city hall, where else can it be expected to occur?

Councillors are paid. It isn’t much, but the job is supposed to be part-time and we do have an administration responsible to manage the corporation.

About now though, the administration must be wondering about their function. Considering the extent of our investment in expertise, that is a disturbing thought.

There were a couple of other dramatic changes last evening:

When 9/11 happened insurance rates in Southern Ontario sky-rocketed. To protect the towns from the impact, a group of municipalities formed a co-op. No profit factor, no reps, no dividends, better coverage, lower premiums.

Last night , we re-invented the wheel and directed staff to go back to the private sector to see if we could do better.

We had a progress report from staff on a gateway sign. The last council approved the design etc. Eighty thousand dollars were ponied up by a developer. They didn't part with it lightly. A consultant was hired. Plans were prepared, applications made and fees paid. Money has been spent, wheels set in motion.

Last night, we undid all that to start from scratch again.

It shouldn't take long to get rid of $80,000 without leaving a trace of it.

That takes exceptional talent.

We had a report that involved storm water management ponds. They catch the pollutants in run off from roads, driveways and roofs and divert them from creeks and waterways and eventually from The Lake. That's 85% of the pollutants that used to go into the streams and waterways and eventually the Lake don't go there any more. The ponds are monitored once a year.That represents phenomenal progress.

The works director was directed to monitor the ponds more than once a year and 85% is not effective enough. He should be striving for 100%.

There's a buffer between wetlands and development and a planting plan for it. The Director of Leisure Service was quizzed whether the plants would be “wind propagated”. Other than bird droppings, I didn't know there was any other kind of propagation. But I don't need to.

All I need to do is make sure the people we hire are experts in their field so that I can depend on them. Aurora has good staff.

All they need is to know there is respect and appreciation for their professional integrity.

If people expect me to be a horticulture expert, a financial analyst, a design consultant, a soccer aficionado and a director of corporate services, with a dozen other areas of expertise , all rolled into one, there will be serious disappointment abroad in the land.

But they are paying me just about right.

Sugar and Spice

It was one of those mornings. It was so cold you could see the air. It was white. It was frozen. It was surreal. It was Saturday - the day when a significant segment of the population has the option of staying curled up in bed until the sun takes over,

At eight-thirty, I was on my way to the town hall with budget binders so cumbersome they needed to be transported in a valise on wheels.

I am not joyful. Number crunching is not my favourite occupation.

I have not had breakfast. There will be fresh fruit and muffins and juice and coffee and tea at the town hall. I am a creature of habit and it is not my usual but as long as the tea breads are freshly baked, I can be enticed by a continental breakfast. I arrive with time to gather sustenance and have it on the table before work begins.

Alas, for the second Saturday the muffins are not a freshly baked selection. There are cinnamon buns, tiny, pallid, damp, doughy replicas of the real thing, baked in paper cups. The muffins are small, unidentifiable and to all outward appearances, have never seen the inside of an oven. They could have been steamed.

I am steamed. If I can't have the real thing, I don't want anything at all.

If I am out for a dreary day of number-crunching, the least I have a right to expect is a real cinnamon bun; a large square section of egg and yeast dough which has been rolled up with a combination of raisins and cinnamon, cut into segments and stuffed tightly into a deep pan, liberally coated with melted butter and brown sugar and baked into a crisp dark brown toffee brittle coating... served with butter for those who prefer it.

I don't expect them to be warm. I don't expect the room to be filled with the heavenly aroma of cinnamon buns baking . I expect to be respected. Pale pallid replicas of French tea breads do not bring out the best in me. Offered in place of the real thing, they make me downright testy.

It is not a good start to the day and the first item on the business agenda is an e-mail from a citizen. He has a suggestion. We should reverse an increase in councillors' remuneration which was of such a singular dimension, I had not noticed a difference.

He is not on hand at the meeting to argue his point. He’s probably curled up cozily in his little cot in his little house dreaming of warm sticky cinnamon buns, fresh from the oven, filling the house with their fragrance, little knowing the dangerous nature of the thoughts winging their way across the white frosty air towards him from the direction of the town hall.

Safe in his little bed is the best place for him to be.