Crybaby Councilmember

Crybaby Councilmember

Wait… don’t freak out… I’m talking about myself, not one of my colleagues.

And I’m not talking about me as a whiner though I do whine once in a while.  (I’m sure some people who are less supportive of my work will say I whine too much.)  But this post is not about whining.  I’m talking about real crying… eyes watering and tears falling. I do it all the time—to the point of embarrassment sometimes.  I’ve been doing it a lot lately.

It goes without saying that many of these tears were shed over the deaths of Butch Baker and Elizabeth Butler.  These came (and still come) not only from a sense of general responsibility for what happens in our community and the natural sense of sadness that comes in seeing two families suffering such great loss.  The tears also came because these public servants were employees of the same organization I work for and that I knew that I had lost colleagues.  And, on top of that, I had known Butch personally for more than 20 years.  We worked together on the board of directors of a local charitable organization in the 1990’s and have had many enjoyable conversations since that time. He was a simply great guy.

But, as I said, I cry easily and there have been many other things going lately on that have triggered my tears.  I have watched our courageous mayor Hilary Bryant use every bit of her strength to hold this community up and together -- so I shed a few tears thinking about how difficult her challenges and responsibilities have been.  But what really made me cry in this context was the night I let her down as I sat silently as some people yelled angry words at her and interrupted her as she tried to run the first city council meeting after the police officer shootings. Afterwards I felt ashamed that I had not spoken up for her and helped her more…and felt so very sad that she had to deal with that behavior after what had probably been the most difficult two weeks of her life. 

And I cried the first time I saw Police Chief Kevin Vogel after the shootings just hearing about and understanding the challenge and burden he was facing: losing someone so very close to him and at the same time having to cope with the responsibility for holding together his close-knit police department team and making sure that the basic community safety operations of the city continued.  And I cried for every police officer and every police officer’s family member, who not only felt the loss but tasted the harsh reality of the risk involved in law enforcement work.

Of course, I also cried as I watched the outpouring of support from the community.  Even in this painful time, so much love appeared.  These were bittersweet tears.

Then there were the tears of sadness and frustration I felt as I perceived that some individuals were using the fear and anger born out of recent violence to make life harder for innocent people unconnected to that violence. (Fortunately, I think this is calming down and becoming uncommon.) 

I regularly experience the juxtaposition of all the stories I regularly hear from people who have experienced homelessness—each story so different and complex—with the simplistic assumptions some housed people make about the phenomenon of homelessness and the realities homeless people’s experience. Most of the stories of these lives are poignant enough to bring my tears… the tears flow even more when set against some of the hostility I see expressed toward the people experiencing these difficult lives, especially in the past several weeks.

There are tears that come with that hard to describe emotion that I feel when I see someone I care about and respect is vilified and targeted as she tries to do great things for our community.  This is my friend and colleague Monica, who is a leader at the local homeless center.

And then there was this:  We were with my eight year old granddaughter (who lives in Davis) and were walking into Disneyland.  We saw some people on the street (apparently homeless) performing for donations.  Yes, people like this are everywhere—even outside the “happiest place on earth.” Granny and I began to have a little discussion with Marina about why homelessness is controversial and how some people seem to want to push homeless people away.  Marina ended the conversation succinctly with this: “they shouldn’t push them away, they should just give them a home.”  I guess the tears that leaked out right then were tears of pride that my granddaughter could see things so clearly.

Unfortunately, the things that have made me cry the most lately are the moments when I perceive that some human beings in my world seem to me to lose sight of the humanity of their fellow human beings.  I’d like to say a bit more about this.  I have seen video after video and picture after picture and comment after comment about how gross and disgusting the homeless campsites and “drug dens” around our city are.  So much of what I read speaks exclusively of the horror of the litter and needles and human waste material. (Make no mistake here: I also find some of what I see on the ground out there very disturbing.)  However, very rarely do I see this kind of comment accompanying these images: “isn’t it horrible that a fellow human being – damaged and troubled as he or she may be – has been living and sleeping in those conditions?”  Now, obviously I have no right to expect that others in the community feel the same empathy or sympathy that I feel. (Thank you for that reminder, Melanie.) All I’m saying is that it has been the source of many tears of sadness when I see that so many people do not seem to experience very much compassion for the people living in this kind of terrible situation. 

Fortunately, I also have been experiencing the tears that come from relief and gratitude when I see hundreds of local residents sign a petition that says (I’m paraphrasing here…) “let’s slow down and deal with our community safety and public health problems with clear thinking and solutions that will build a stronger community without doing harm.”

That’s a lot of crying in the last month!  Of course, I hope it will slow but I’m sure it won’t stop. I‘m sure my future crying will come from many different sources and emotions. Mainly I hope most of my tears will come from joy and gratitude connected to the experience that our community is working together and our families are thriving and enjoying one another… because we share life in this amazing gem of a place called Santa Cruz.