Closed door sessions hide the truth

And when we get behind closed doors…
Oh no one knows what goes on behind closed doors.

                        Thanks to Charlie Rich

 

So, now remind me again, why is City Council is allowed to have closed door sessions?

Oh let me see, personnel actions, land acquisition, hide stuff from the public that they would rather the public not see or know. And of course act like blithering idiots and let their true nature out where the voters can’t really see them. Make decisions, and then come out of a closed door session and announce their results as if by decree.

And while I am certain there are some good reasons to have closed door sessions, I am quickly becoming convinced that how they are being used is not exactly how they were meant to be used. For instance, personnel actions likely should not be addressed in a public forum in order to preserve the sanctity of the person or people being discussed.

Who wants their dirty, or clean for that matter, laundry addressed in public? Not I, for one. While in a way it makes sense, the intent, in my belief is not to protect council but to protect the individual or group being discussed. And yet it is hard for me to believe that council isn’t somehow protecting themselves.

Land acquisition or sale is another one that might have some legitimacy for closed door sessions. If people know you are discussing taking their property they may actually get a lawyer to try to protect themselves. Although, in these days of invoking “eminent domain” for the “greater good of the community” maybe has outlived its usefulness. Eminent domain is its own hobgoblin, it gives the city or other legal body the right to snatch someone’s property with them having no recourse.  In Colonial Heights, you people who live on the Dupuy Road corridor had best beware of eminent domain.

Why on earth do we have Sunshine laws and the Freedom of Information Act anyway? We have them because government entities tend to do things behind everyone’s back. They cobble decisions together via phone or text and then meet and take action. Those meetings via phone and text to discuss city or county business probably are not legal. And yet, we know they happen. We know they happen as surely as we know that teens, and others, have resorted to sexting. We don’t have to see it in person to know that it happens. It’s a human trait or tendency, just as it is a human trait or tendency to work out deals behind closed doors.

And that ladies and gentlemen is essentially what happened when Hopewell City Council held a closed door session to discuss and vote on who would be serving as Mayor and Vice Mayor last year. Really, why would the process to elect or appoint the mayor and vice mayor need to be done behind closed doors? Are we trying to hide something from the public? Is it even remotely possible that the public can’t figure out where the power in council resides?

Power in council resides in the swing vote. If you have seven council folk, often that results in a 4-3 split. The swing vote, the deciding vote, will tell you how council will act even before they act. It’s not rocket science or new math we’re talking about here. It’s all about power; it’s all about who has the votes.  And it’s not going to change anytime soon. If council or any other political body continues to do things that you don’t care for, vote those people out.

Meanwhile, Judge W. Allen Sharrett’s ruling that the city had not met their burden in proving there was a reason to hold the discussion on the appointment in closed session seems legit. And allowing the results of that discussion to stand are also legit. No way is it possible to go back and “fix” what happened. The only thing we can hope for is that council doesn’t take it upon themselves to do the same thing again this year.

On the other hand, why not just conduct city business, other than personnel actions, in the open? How novel that would be; how above board; how honest.

At long last, a glimmer of common sense

Finally, finally, a tiny bit of common sense shows up on city council. And of course, city council voted right over the top of it. Still it’s an indication that someone appears to understand the city’s favorite method of operating, or MO for you sleuth story buffs. How do they operate? Well, it’s like this:  when they don’t like something they simply pummel it with laws and restrictions. That’s the ticket now isn’t it?  Let’s get tough on all these outlaws and hoodlums. Or is it just modern day tough love?

Recently-elected councilman Betsy Luck nailed the problem. Within the city of Colonial Heights, there really isn’t much for the kids to do. But the city clamp-down on the curfew isn’t really a problem solver. All it will do is move the conflicts/problems back an hour earlier, sort of the way daylight savings time works.

Kids don’t drive here from Chesterfield because the mall closes an hour later. It would take too long to drive here just to ruffle feathers for a few minutes. This really is a local problem, and perhaps pushing the curfew back an hour would save a bit of OT for the police department, since now the problems would happen an hour earlier.

It would be nice to see some supporting evidence about who these problem children are and where they come from.  Teen curfew doesn’t just affect high-school aged children, just like teen pregnancy doesn’t mean every girl in high school is getting knocked up. Some pregnant teens are actually married, but God forbid we look that close at the statistics. Besides it’s much more fun to lambaste a whole class of kids, right?

Back to the point, if we have made so many arrests, why not chart them by home address? How many, for instance, involve Colonial Heights teens, or Fort Lee, or Chesterfield, or Prince George, Hopewell, Petersburg, or even Dinwiddie? More to Ms. Luck’s point, shouldn’t we be allowing parents to take care of their own children? Whatever happened to the phone call to the parents “come get your kid, he’s at the police station?’ Doesn’t stuff like that work anymore?

Yes, yes, yes, I have seen a bunch of younger people, teens possibly, hanging out in the parking lots of some of the restaurants late at night.  But by 11 o’clock or even midnight, you’re not talking about the busy dinner hour.  It’s actually closer to the closing hour, except for the hard-core guests siphoning down that last pint or shot before attempting the DUI gauntlet on Temple Avenue, which by the way is a much better use of our police department than herding teens is.

Ms. Luck says she thinks it amounts to overreach. Hooray! It is overreach. Some argue that it would bring us in line with the curfews in other localities, and yet I have seen the same argument used in the other direction when it serves the purpose. You know the one, “we don’t want to be like the other localities.” Why do we want to be like other localities? And what other locality is truly like Colonial Heights, or wants to be? Not many, I assure you.

And none around here:  not by population, not by commercial tax base, and not by much of anything else, really. Don’t get me wrong, despite my complaints, I have lived in good ole CH for 27 years and while not a “native” it has stood me well over the years.

It seems to me, looking from the outside no doubt, that lowering the curfew merely treats the symptom. It doesn’t address the real problem. And the real problem is that, with all of this magnificent business growth, we haven’t done anything to address the needs of our “teens.” They truly have nowhere to go, except for those places where a small congregation can gather. And, no doubt, that will lead to confrontations and issues. Kids are not well known for always behaving well in public. Yes, I too have winced at the performance of my kids from time to time, who hasn’t?  Be honest.  In general, they are pretty well behaved. But there is always that one or two who are not. And, it seems, that those one or two are always the ones that create the problems. You remember them from school; I am certain you can name them.

Some city residents have battled for a long time to find a place that would be a suitable “hangout” for our teens. At one point, it appeared we nearly had it figured out, when the former Circuit City building was viewed as a potential Teen Center. That failed due to contract issues, but not because it wasn’t a good idea. It was in fact a great idea. It put a place for teenagers to hang out right where they appear to be having problems now, the mall area.

Since the curfew action is already a done deal, one of the things council ought to request is some empirical data showing how well the new curfew has worked/is working. Let’s collect a little up front data supporting the “need” for the new curfew, and then in six months or so let’s pull the corresponding data and see if the curfew really helped.  I know, it is statistics and by gosh statistics never directly addressed any problem on earth.  But statistics can help support a case, and with this one I would love to see how it works out.  On the other, other-hand, isn’t crowd control something the police department is supposed to do?

Joy--Joy To the World

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yf-d-Ka30EY

                                                            Joy to the world,

                                                            All the boys and girls

                                                            Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

                                                            Joy to you and me!

                                                            Three Dog Night

As Joy Smith Fenderson’s service wound down Tuesday at Highland United Methodist Church this now seemingly ancient refrain from a song out of my high school days rang out. It was one of Joy’s favorites, and for those of us who remember it from back in those days, it is an absolutely perfect send off for one of the most wonderful, giving people I have had the delight to know. Joy is gone, but joy lives on forever in our hearts, our minds, our souls—and her memory revives every time that song is played. For me, it can’t happen often enough.

Joy and her husband Tim are nothing less than great servers of people. Like me, they kept a busy life. Work, extra work, volunteering, picking up a few minutes to help whoever and whenever such help was needed. Personally, I relied on Tim, and therefore on Joy, to help me with whatever church fund-raising project I had going on at the time.

Most of the time, it was helping out with my fish fries. I knew Tim was a good cook, what I didn’t know was that Joy was the motor behind the whole thing. To some, it seemed like she was just helping out, just battering the fish, or hauling the trays back and forth. But to me, and I am certain to Tim, she was what made all of our efforts worthwhile.

Ok, yes, she managed to keep us in line. I know it’s a colossal effort, given the task, but she always seemed to know how to get and keep us on track. You see, Tim and I would much rather chat (call it by its real name and they won’t let you print it). But Joy knew better. She knew that if we didn’t get our collective tails in gear we wouldn’t be ready when our guests arrived.

And that’s probably how I like to remember her. Standing in the kitchen at Highland with a pan of Zataran’s breading in front of her and a full dusting of “Zat” powder on her apron, looking like an elf in a fresh layer of snow. Even on days when she had to work her real job, she was there for a few minutes to make sure we got started right.  Getting started right is half the battle, like writing a news story is easier if you write a good lead.

And to me, that is the story of Joy. Getting it right. And getting it right starts with attitude. Being around Joy was always a, pardon the expression, joy, because she made it that way. I am certain that there were other times, as there are for all of us, when things weren’t always smooth, but you could never tell from her demeanor. Well, at least I couldn’t tell, and really in my story that’s all that matters, right?

And so, sitting here on Christmas Eve morning, pecking out words on an uncooperative laptop, it’s difficult to find the right words, the right thing to say, the right expression of my feelings. And yet, I battle with my own guilt for not stopping by more often, for wishing that this never happened, for dreaming that somehow, some miraculous way, I can conjure up her image to help with yet one more fish fry, one more time to see the smile in her eyes, the wry grin, the ready laugh.

Many people like to say that writing is hard, writing is difficult. But really, it’s not, it’s just words and words are plentiful. There are many, many, many words.

There is also much Joy.