Here’s a story that ran a week or so ago in my weekly hometown newspaper. It’s a little “spring thing” with a clumsy connection to our recent mayoral election. Most of you won’t’ really relate to the specifics, but, as usual, you can probably just drop in the name of your own hometown as most of our issues are pretty much the same as your issues....
Spring is back, right here, in our own backyards.
Not a moment too soon, either.
Winter—just before leaving, just as a reminder—dumped another 4-5 inches on us…just because.
That’s how spiteful this winter was.
Early on, it lulled us into a false sense of contentment, right through the middle of January, and then…boom boom boom.
When March finally rolled in, winter fooled us again with a brief spell of mild temps, along with the heartening sight of grassy green...and then…another boom.
But spring—as is its wont—did arrive, with a reassuring pat on our back and said…
“Don’t worry…I’ve got this…”
And just like that, the snow began to melt…and by that Saturday afternoon, it was all but gone, again…this time, we hope, for good.
Spring is all about hope, as much as winter is about bluster and cold. While winter confines us, spring sets us free. And there’s nothing better that looking ahead towards a good 7 months of high hopes and a cool beverage of your choosing.
But that’s the nice thing about seasons…you know the hard ones always end and the good ones always arrive…right on time.
And so do our local hometown, mayoral elections…just like clockwork, every two years.
Whoops…give me a second. I need to straighten out my back. Making that connection was a bit of a stretch and my winter muscles aren’t quite spring ready, yet.
Okay…I’m good. Sorry, I thought I could sneak that one by you.
Where was I? Oh, yeah….
So we have another new mayor…who’s really the old mayor, once removed…but now, no longer removed, so he’s taking back his office, both officially and spatially…which is a word I’ve always wanted to use.
Congrats to the winner…and the first runner-up, who had a good showing and still retains his seat on the board, along with the opportunity to continue “making a difference”. The only negative is he’ll probably have to slide a chair or two, further down the table, where it’s harder to get to the good donuts before they’re all gobbled up.
It was a super close race, won by less than 100 votes…which can’t be all that encouraging to the winner, and more than a little frustrating if you’re on the short side of that number. You have to think, if I only mailed out a few more fliers, shook a few more hands or kissed a few more beagles.
I know that’s how I feel when only 2 or 3 people show up for my birthday party, every year. And…yeaaaah…I count the mail carrier…so what?
The nice thing about a hometown election is since everyone knows one another and are basically neighbors, they tend to be very congenial. No one tries to sneak anything by anyone else. Both candidates and their supporters freely discuss the issues in officially sponsored debates, as well as pubs, street corners and social media, all in a forthright, civil manner. Points are respectfully made as plans are courteously and professionally presented, with hard feelings harbored by none.
Wait…give me one more second. I think I pulled another muscle trying to keep a straight face while I wrote that.
Okay…sorry. I’m good.
The truth is, as in any small, hardworking town, where political passions often run high, things can actually get a little heated, at times. I may be mistaken, as I often am, but I believe some harsh criticisms may have been thrown about, on occasion. Perhaps even a… “You’re a nimby wimby!”…“I know you are, but what am I?” or two, slipping out in a couple of instances.
Still, as is our American way, the people spoke—or at least nearly 21 percent of our towns registered voters did. The other 79 percent or so apparently didn’t care, or were too busy trying to figure out why the election was moved to Wednesday, just because it was St. Patrick’s Day on Tuesday.
The only thing I do know is—yes—spring, the season of hope, has finally arrived, and with it a fresh hope that the new mayor—really the old mayor, once removed… no longer removed—and all the returning BOT members will listen to one another, respect one another, put party affiliations aside and work together to move things forward and do what’s best for PC and all its citizens….
Ouch…ouch…ouch… ouch, ouch….
And just think…next year we get to do it all over again when all the trustees come back into play. So better start thinking now about how many votes you’ll want to use and to whom you want to give them. And no…you can’t use the ones you saved up from last time…I don’t think.
Until then, I do think the graffiti sprayed all over the old hospital, up on the hill, is a suitable welcome mat for out of town visitors. And if that doesn’t impress them, the collapsing bulkhead down at the marina is a nice visual. And don’t forget the bobsled run that circles the train station for most of the winter…sewer rental, the missing CO’ s and ….
Ouch…ouch…ouch… ouch, ouch….