Have you ever had one of those dreams where find yourself back at your locker in junior high only now you’re an adult and have a car and a job but still only a few minutes to get to English and you notice that everyone else seems really, really different than the last time you were there? Smaller and less intimidating?
Last night didn’t in any way resemble one of our familiar earth-nights. Everything had been transformed, mutated, or turned into something else. I gave the bridge art presentation to an enthusiastic council, (yes, you read that right) who loved the idea and couldn’t wait to support it. There was much oohing and aahing about the general cuteness of the children’s art work and I believe Ross actually thanked Worth A Dam for its continued hard work. I’ll have to see the video, because I was feeling too surreal to notice.
(Gazette page 1) (Gazette page 2) Our student helpers from Rona Zollinger’s ESA class came early to walk through their role in helping the project and were fantastically motivated and savvy. One had made a tile at the festival, another already had the Worth A Dam shirt, and a third was the son of a contractor who had helped lay tile and granite in the past and wanted to assist installation. The fourth was interested in writing about their role in the upcoming Worth A Dam newsletter. All were very smart about the visual impact their presence was going to have on the council, and volunteered to carry tiles and stand at the front during the presentation.
Two years ago after our dynamic November meeting, I left full of elevated hopes for the council’s role with the beavers. The sky was the limit. I dreamed big. 18 months ago, their refusal to vote on the subcommittee report turned me more wary and suspicious. I learned how to expect the worst but appear to hope for the best. One year ago their decision to put sheetpile through the lodge left me devastated and betrayed, and I honestly felt all bets were off. Last night, their reaction was again entirely unexpected. i would call it almost genuine enthusiasm with an element of quasi-amnesiac disconnect from their earlier cautions.
(If it hadn’t been for the fact that council woman Kennedy pointedly was the only member to say nothing whatsoever about the project, I would have thought I was in the wrong zip code. Thanks for making me feel at home.)
