May 6, 2017
(A version of this post appeared in the May 4 issue of the Waterbury Record)
When is $26 Million not $26 Million? When it is considered to be real savings by the Governor when they trash long-standing collective bargaining agreements for our teachers, principals and support staff. It sounds sexy — who wouldn’t want to find a $26 million present under their Christmas tree? — but like so many of his proposals this year, once you take off the wrapping paper, there’s nothing inside.
Earlier in the year, the House of Representatives unanimously passed a bill that achieved one of Governor Scott’s prized notions — it was balanced without raising taxes or fees. By choosing to present a budget this way, the House acknowledged that our economy, while stronger than most, has plateaued. And with the unknown of fate federal money, it is a budget that proposed little or no new spending, or spending that was offset by cuts elsewhere. What the House did not do was to approve of certain initiatives proposed by the governer that were attractive, but would have required a substantial increase in your property taxes. Flatlining a budget is, due to inflation, essentially cutting the budget by 2% or so, but the House chose to live with the reduction of certain services in order to make it work.
The Senate, on the other hand, has other thoughts about how our resources should be spent, and have proposed paying for some initiatives with the property tax. Again, the House does not support raising revenues through the property tax that should be raised through the General Fund, where everyone contributes.
And most recently, the Governor has promised to veto the budget if it doesn’t include changes to the teachers’ health insurance program, as well as ending the teachers’ right to strike over this benefit. (see p. 2540) While the Governor stated his desire to change the way teachers receive a locally bargained benefit, his administration did not make a proposal until the closing days of the session. Worse, this proposal was concocted in the shadows in conjunction with the Vermont School Board Association without the input from the teachers or their union. This is unconscionable. The rallying cry of many individual groups applies here, as well: Nothing about me without me. Read more
April 21, 2017
Every year at this time, I do a “devotional” in the Vermont State House. The time is used for prayer, or poetry, or music, or what have you. I choose to write with a connection to Shakespeare. This year I focussed on the character of Constance, from “King John.”
As we rapidly approach the end of the session, I can feel us, as a body, begin to check out, to dissociate from the connections we’ve made since January, and to focus, like a laser, on whatever the endgame is going to be.
I do this devotional annually as a tribute to William Shakespeare on or around his birthday. Shakespeare, if you know him at all, is about words, rhythms, pauses, caesuras, rhymes that all add up and reveal truths that are as pure today as they were when he wrote them.
It takes some time and patience to read him — say “shakespeare” in a junior high as you reach for Julius Caeser or Romeo and Juliet, and you can be sure the groans will be followed by the sounds of teenagers sleeping in their desks. But if you can get them to get it, they’ll learn about the emptiness of political conspiracy and the way love can almost, almost conquer the nihilism inherent in a generational war between Hatfields and McCoys.
What Shakespeare brings to us, in this building, is his sharp perception about how humans in power negotiate that power — in his histories, that means that the climax leaves the stage riddled with corpses, and some vague glimmer of glory for those just murdered.
His King John ends this way. It is full of palace intrigue, and battles fought over the birthright of men, or the usurpers, or the bastard who ends the play alone, and weakly trying to infuse the glory of the crown. And within this play is a remarkable pair of women characters, mothers, who give the play its emotional core in a way unknown in other of Shakespeare’s plays.
The mother who has shaded me most this year, really since October of last year, is Constance. It is her son, Arthur, who by whatever math the royals use to determine who is next in line, is being held back from his right by his uncle, the feckless King John. John, whose mother is Eleanor of Aquitaine, is brother of Richard the Lion-Hearted and conspires to have Arthur murdered. Arthur’s assassin lets him live, uninjured, and lies to King John, telling him that he did indeed murder the boy. Arthur, in a wicked twist, falls to his death as he is trying to take advantage of his unexpected freedom. Everyone thinks that John, in fact, had him killed, even John.
When she hears that he has died, Constance is angry, angry that others would dismiss her emotion as weakness. The beauty, however quickly it dissipates, is the way her grief grows in front of you, blossoming as she speaks.
It is this grief, and this depiction of grief, and the acknowledgment of grief, that I have carried with me this session, ever since a number of parents from the Mad River Valley and Waterbury were awakened by the call no parent ever wants to receive. From our perch as legislators, the representatives from Moretown and Warren and Waterbury witnessed this grief in our communities. All of us, when we work in this building, and when we hear testimony from mothers who are trying to save their children from homelessness, or addiction, or from the horrors of war, witness this grief. It is the kind of grief that can happen to anyone, and is so raw that it stays with us for years.
Here is how Constance describes it. She says:
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
(And then Constance removes her headpiece and says…)
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
So what do I do with this sadness? The first thing I do is to remain grateful to the communities around the state who became Harwood Strong, who reached out to our kids and told them that they were not alone. And to the first responders, who dealt with the horror they came upon. And to the teachers and principals and educational personnel and therapists and comfort dogs who tried to help the students through their pain while they were trying to keep theirs in check. And to everyone who reached out to those families and did what they could to acknowledge and do whatever that little thing was to deal with their own pain of sudden loss.
And here, in the State House, I try to remember that the work we do is for people. No matter the cost, the concept, or the outcome, everything we do affects people. There is great responsibility with that, and if I were to offer a prayer, I would ask that we, as legislators, honor that, in these closing days, we work for the people first, the people always. They are our joy, our food, our world.
March 28, 2017
No, this is not a post on guns…that will be another day. This is about cannabis. I’ve received a flurry of emails asking me to vote “yes” or “no” on H.170, a bill that proposes to legalize a Vermont citizen’s ability to carry an ounce of marijuana and to have two mature plants and four immature plants in their residence or on their property.
I will be voting “yes” on this bill. Here’s why:
It is long past time, in my opinion, to end the prohibition on the possession of marijuana, and will be soon on the manufacturing, sale and regulation of marijuana or, more precisely, cannabis. H.170 is a small step in that direction.
The United States and the State of Vermont have ended prohibition on the manufacture and sale of alcohol and have legalized the sale of lottery tickets and games. We have never banned or regulated “minor” games of chance, like bingo or break open tickets, even if we assume the time and money spent on those games can add up to an “addiction.”
We have also seen a deadly increase in the marketing, sale and use of prescription opioids, and as a backlash to the expense of those drugs, the increased use of heroin. These narcotics are so addictive that, some reports show, one can get hooked within a week of use. Packets of heroin, as we’ve seen recently in the press, are sometimes used as a salary replacement to allegedly “functional” addicts. Heroin is also “cut”, or diluted, with chemicals that have enhanced its strength, or not cut enough, both of which can lead to fatal overdoses. Read more