Tag: Maine

Street fighting man

~ Randy Seaver ~ 2 Comments
Sen. Angus King
Sen. Angus King

While many of us were obsessing this week about whether Big Brother is monitoring that silly cat video we posted on Facebook or whether the IRS will now audit Tim Tebow, Maine’s newest senator quietly announced that he was consolidating two of his southern Maine field offices.

Although the news of Senator Angus King closing his Biddeford and Portland offices didn’t exactly set the world on fire, it does bear mentioning and warrants a positive shout-out for at least two reasons.

1.) Consolidating the Biddeford and Portland office at a centralized Scarborough field office is aimed at efficiency and will save taxpayer money.

2.) More importantly, this symbolic gesture recognizes the most important part of what constituent service should entail: the constituent.

Allow me to explain the more important, latter point. King wants his staff in the field; mobile, flexible and ready to meet with constituents on their terms.

Instead of being pinned down at a desk, King wants Bonnie Pothier (King’s York County rep.) and Travis Kennedy (King’s Cumberland County rep.) to spend more time moving around their respective fields, more involved in the entire area than just one particular office location.

So, while the office closing represent a slight loss for the cities of Biddeford and Portland, the bigger gains will be for people who were already somewhat geographically removed from those locations; i.e. residents or business owners who live or work in places like Standish, Kittery, Sanford and Brunswick.

Sure, this is mostly a symbolic gesture, but it is consistent with what King promised us during last year’s campaign: to find ways to better connect Maine people with Washington D.C., such as his weekly  Capitol Coffee sessions, held each Wednesday morning in his D.C. Senate office. If you happen to be in DC, you can swing by and have a blueberry muffin with your senator. 

Symbolic, Folksy, Quirky? Check to all three, but it does again reinforce the idea that your senator is available and wants to hear from you.

And today, King begins his Your Government, Your Neighborhood roadshow, in which his staff will fan out across the state to hold listening tours with any interested constituents. Although this method of constituent outreach is almost as old as the US Senate; King is leveraging his social media assets to amp up constituent participation.

And finally, King, the governor who launched Maine’s seventh-grade laptop program, is using technology to hopefully connect with every classroom in Maine by using Skype, as detailed in this story from the Bangor Daily News.

As Americans continue expressing a lack of confidence in the federal government, it’s real easy for most of us to remain stuck in a cynical posture about those loathsome folks bickering in Washington.  But at least King is pushing for a greater connection with his constituents, and saving us a few bucks in the process.

I have never been an Angus King cheerleader, and I think it’s far too early in his senate career to determine whether he can actually pull off some of the lofty ideas he talked about during the campaign, but so far…. I like what I see….

The idea of free coffee on Wednesday mornings? Well, let me know when we can start sampling Maine micro-brews in the Dirksen Senate building on Thursday nights, and I’ll be the first in line every week.

Related: My interview with Angus King in November 2002

 

 

Balance and perception a.k.a. ‘Shit happens’

~ Randy Seaver ~ 8 Comments
An obvious aliment

Over the last few days, I have learned some valuable lessons.

First and foremost, I was reminded this week that I am extraordinarily blessed to have a diverse cadre of superior friends and family members.

I also learned a valuable lesson about ladders, not to mention a very painful experience that drove home the importance of why access to affordable and quality health care is so important for our national security.

But having so much down time has also allowed me to reflect on at least two other subjects: balance and perception.

During this presidential election season we have all heard a bunch of rhetoric about “self-reliance” and about “being in this together.” But which philosophy is correct?

Just like working with a ladder, the most important lesson is too often forgotten: it’s all about balance.

And we lose our balance when our perceptions become too narrowly defined.

A week ago, I broke my left arm in two different places while helping my sons with their landscaping business. The injuries, although significant, will eventually heal.

These last few days have been tough. It’s amazing how much you take for granted the use of two working arms. For example, try zipping up your pants with one arm. Or opening a bottle of pain meds; typing or driving a vehicle with a standard transmission.

Most people understand those limitations. They instantly empathize, and are quick to offer assistance. After all, my injuries are very obvious. My arm is either in a sling or set into a wrap-around corset to keep it in place. I have visible wounds on my legs and my elbow.

Strangers ask what happened with sympathetic voices, and they often share with me their own similar experiences. My friends laugh with me about how the accident happened. It’s okay and acceptable to make jokes about it.

We are comfortable with physical injuries. They do not frighten us. Shit happens.

Anyone who has ever smashed their elbow into a 3-inch-thick slab of stone knows that it is a painful injury. They know why you need to take it easy and sometimes need the use of medication to cope or just sleep through the night.

I say all this because these experiences provided me with a very stark contrast to my much less obvious injuries; the disease that is invisible to the eye, that is masked by perception.

On balance (no pun intended) my mental illness is far more painful than a broken arm. But you can’t see it, and I am reluctant to show it to you.

Imagine a disease that rarely allows you to sleep through an entire night. A disease that constantly impacts your perception of the world around you; a disease that clouds your judgment, alters your reality and makes it almost impossible to get out of bed.

Imagine an intense level of pain that without medication would have you think every hour of every day about ending your life; a disease that inhibits your ability to maintain relationships and function as a productive member of society.

Imagine having a disease that is commonly ridiculed and often dismissed as nothing more than “feeling sorry for yourself.”

I live with the challenges of that disease every day. I fight it with every fiber of my existence, only to know that it will never go away; that there is no cure or remedy.

I refuse to allow my broken arm to alter my life. This last week has been one of the busiest and most challenging weeks of my professional career, and I have risen to each and every challenge.

Am I bragging? Yes, but only to make a point. This is the way the overwhelming majority of people who suffer from a mental illness operate. They struggle through each day. They go to work. They mask their pain. They pay their bills. They follow the law. They take their meds and follow their doctor’s orders.

They wince when they hear the words “sicko, whack job and nut case,” but they swallow and stay silent for fear of being labeled, judged or excluded.

They are just like you. They are your neighbors, your friends and your co-workers. They did not choose to become sick any more than you would choose to fall off a ladder. They are some of the most self-reliant people you will ever meet. They have abundant courage and determination.

We all have limitations. The trick is learning to balance and to expand your range of perception. With those tools, you can fix just about anything.

Once in a lifetime

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

Of course it happened in Biddeford.

Okay, so maybe it could have happened in Sanford, Lewiston or Rumford but really – – what’s the difference?

I’m speaking, of course, about the so-called sting video that was meant to prove rampant abuse of welfare benefits in Maine.

The undercover, amateur video was shot in the Biddeford office of the Maine Department of Health & Human Services roughly six months ago, and it sparked a media frenzy when it was released last week by two organizations that I have supported.

A few points of disclosure before we proceed any further:

  • I live in Biddeford;
  • My wife works as a social worker at the Biddeford DHHS office;
  • I am a registered Republican;
  • I once received welfare benefits.

Which of those above points does not belong? Which one is not like the others?

To better explain my perspective on this incident, I invite you on a journey back to August 10, 1983, a date I will never forget and a date that colored my view of the amateur video that was publicly released exactly 28 years later.

It was a Wednesday and it was hot. Hot and incredibly humid. Dog Day Afternoon hot.

I was 19 years old and about to experience something I would never forget.

I was also an in-patient on the psychiatric unit of the Maine Medical Center in Portland. Less than 24 hours earlier my mother visited me and explained that I could not come home once I was discharged. My behavior, she explained, was unacceptable. My illness was manifesting itself in fits of uncontrolled rage, belligerent behavior and sheer arrogance.

This was my second hospitalization in less than one year. I was floundering and out of control. I remember being angry during that meeting with my mother, my doctor and a social worker. But my anger was much more about fear than anything else.

Where would I go? How would I survive?

I did not have a job. I had only the clothes on my back and 55 cents in my pocket. I not only know it was exactly 55 cents, I also know that it was one quarter and three dimes. I awoke the next morning and stared out the window of my hospital room. From the sixth floor, it was looked as if the city of Portland was snarling at me, ready to swallow me whole.

You may find yourself in another part of the world. . .

I was discharged at about 11 a.m. and began my walk down Congress Street, past the fire department, the statue of Longfellow and the porno theaters that have since disappeared.

By the time I hit the intersection of Oak Street, I was drenched in sweat. I stopped at the McDonald’s restaurant and asked to speak with the manager.

I was told the manager was busy. They were gearing up for a lunch rush. I asked when I could come back just before a man tapped me on the shoulder. “What do you need?” he asked.

I will never forget that man. His name was George Lydick. He lived in Falmouth, and he owned three McDonald’s restaurants in the area. He invited me to sit down and grabbed an employment application.

I can’t remember if I filled out the application. I do remember that he gave me a Big Mac and a chocolate shake. He asked if I could start immediately because he needed a third-shift utility worker, a janitor who would clean the bathrooms, change the oil in the fryaltors, empty the garbage, break down and sanitize the shake machine and mop the floors.

He was willing to take a gamble on me, but only when the restaurant was closed and there were no customers around. I had told him that I was just discharged from P-6, after all.

I had a job. I would earn $4.25 an hour, and George agreed to comp me two meals a day until I got my first paycheck. I shook his hand. Thanked him profusely and left in search of place to live.

Roughly 30 minutes later, I found myself with dozens of other people in the basement level of Portland City Hall. My name was called, and I met with a caseworker. I showed her my discharge papers and told her I just got a job at McDonald’s but had no place to live. The shame of being there was crushing.

The city, she explained, had limited resources, but if I could find an apartment that would take city vouchers, they could pay my rent until I got my first paycheck. They could not, however, help with any security deposits. She also gave me $17 worth of emergency food stamps and sent me on my way, looking for an apartment with a list of potential places and an eligibility form that the landlord would have to complete.

I struck pay-dirt on my first try, the emphasis on dirt. The apartment was a one-room efficiency on the fourth floor of a building that smelled of cat urine and featured peeling paint, torn carpeting in the hallways and lots of loud music. The rent was $50 a week. It included all utilities.

The room was tiny and had two windows, both of which could not be opened because of the swelling wood and lack of maintenance. The view featured the brick wall of an adjacent building. There was a stained mattress, a two-burner cook top and a micro fridge.

You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack.

It was 2:30 p.m. I had been on my own for a little more than three hours. I had a job and a place to live.

I was terrified and would begin my new job in less than eight hours.

Despite my accomplishments, I did make a very big mistake that day. I decided to use the toilet in my new apartment. It did not occur to me until it was much too late that I did not have toilet paper, a shower curtain, soap or even a towel.

My theory is if that ever happens to you, it only happens once. In the 28 years since, I’ve never had less than 28 rolls of toilet paper in my home at any given time.

I remember being stunned that I had to actually pay for things like towels, salt, soap and toilet paper. Those things should be free, I reasoned.

Welcome to being an adult.

My mother and a friend of hers visited me three days later. They brought with them several bags of groceries: cans of tuna fish and soup, fresh vegetables, peanut butter, bread and cereal.

Flash forward 28 years later. I am sitting at my desk this morning, thinking that I should clean my pool instead of updating my blog. I am overlooking my gardens, and I am impressed with my lawn and its lack of brown spots. All my windows can be opened, and we have five air conditioners.

You may find yourself with a beautiful wife and a beautiful house . . .

Next week, I will wake up in my camper perched on the shore of Moosehead Lake. My, God. . . how did I get here?

I say all this because the taxpayers (you) made an investment in me. Nearly three decades ago, you gave me $117 in rent and groceries. For the next two years, you subsidized my medications and loaned me money to go to college.

Was it a wise investment? I like to think so, especially when I look at how much I pay in taxes; the money I donate to charity and the lessons I try to pass on to my two stepsons.

Sure, it doesn’t always work out this way. And who knows, maybe I could crash and burn, but sometimes the investment works out nicely.

Make no mistake, welfare fraud happens. If you look hard and long enough, you can always find waste, inefficiency and things that need to be improved. It all depends on where you want to look.

If you’re upset about how welfare fraud impacts your wallet, you’re certainly not alone. Personally, as a conservative Republican, I am much more concerned with how welfare fraud impacts those who truly need government assistance. With limited budgets and resources, we don’t need clowns running around with hidden cameras looking for a “gotcha” moment.

We need more people giving back to their communities. We need to invest more of our time, energy and resources in making our communities stronger and safer.

Governor Paul LePage, a man who knows a thing or two about being down on your luck, responded to the video release like….well….like a governor should. He questioned the delayed release of the videotape. He saw an example of an opportunity for better training and renewed focus on efficiency of state services.

He didn’t see a smoking gun. He saw an opportunity. But I don’t expect he’ll get much credit for it.

That’s just the way it goes when you’re a Republican who lives in Biddeford, Lewiston, Sanford or Rumford.

Pocketful of Kryptonite

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

Although it was 30 years ago this week, I still remember the day like it was yesterday.

I came home from high school and flipped on the television. The news was on, and that was strange because this was long before the days of CNN, MSNBC or Fox News. Back then, there was no such thing as the internet.

So why was the news on during the afternoon?

The president had been shot.

Only a few months earlier, John Lennon was gunned down in front of his New York City apartment building. We didn’t know it then, but in a few more weeks there would be an assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II.

Violence was everywhere, it seemed.

Welcome to 1981. I am a junior at Rumford High School. My orthodontic braces had just been removed, and I am living with my uncle and aunt in West Peru, Maine while my parents continue a bitter divorce process.

I am going back there tomorrow. I am going back to my old high school, where I painted a mural on the wall of my English teacher’s classroom.

I am also reminded that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” said 19th Century philosopher George Santayana

When Ronald Reagan was president, U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords was 11 years old, John Lennon was buried, and I was struggling with acne.

John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, Gabrielle Giffords, Pope John Paul II.

And Maine Governor Paul LePage.

Wait! What? Paul LePage?

No, LePage was not shot, but he did receive a death threat from Michael Thomas, a Portland man who allegedly vowed to assassinate him and reportedly suffers from a history of mental instability.

John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, Gabby Giffords, Pope John Paul II and Paul Lepage. Now there’s an interesting group of people, all of whom stir some sort of reaction.

But what about this next group of individuals?

Mark Chapman, John Hinckley, Jared Loughner, Mehmet Ali Ağca and Michael Thomas. They all have at least two things in common.

One: They are all currently in jail.

While some folks may use these tragedies to demand tougher gun laws, or to discuss political motivations, the other common thread shared by our second group of men is almost always sensationalized by both the media and general public .

Each of these men has a mental illness.

(Sidebar: There are several theories, including a Tom Clancy novel, about Ağca, the man who attempted to assassinate the Pope,and his political motivations and reported connections to the KGB, but there is little doubt that he is mentally unstable, especially if you begin perusing transcripts of interviews with him after the shooting in Vatican Square.)

We like to ignore mental illness. It is an uncomfortable topic, but not one that should be dismissed. Otherwise, as demonstrated above, the consequences can be fatal.

These high-profile crimes and the men behind them add to the burden of mental health advocates who fight daily against the stigma associated with mental illness.

In fact, violent acts committed by people with serious mental illness comprise an exceptionally small proportion of the overall violent crime rate in the U.S. They are more likely to be the victims of violence, not its perpetrators, according to the National Association of Social Workers (NASW)

In its March 2011 article, “Budgets Balanced at Expense of Mentally Ill,” the NASW newsletter also mentions a new report by the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration that documents a nationwide decline in behavioral health care spending as a share of all health care spending, from 9.3 percent in 1986 to just 7.3 percent, or $135 billion out of $1.85 trillion, in 2005.

Moreover, high-profile incidents such as John Hinckley’s attempted assassination of President Reagan also give apparent permission for the media to stereotype and hype mental illness as one that will likely produce violent crime.

In the days following the 2007 massacre at Virginia Tech, “Nightly newscasts reported “no known motive” and focused on the gunman’s anger, sense of isolation, and preoccupation with violent revenge. No one who read or saw the coverage would learn what a psychotic break looks like, nor that the vast majority of people with mental disorders are not violent. This kind of contextual information is conspicuously missing from major newspapers and TV,” wrote Richard Friedman in “Media and Madness,” an article published in the June 23, 2008 issue of The American Prospect.

Friedman goes on to explain that “Hollywood has benefited from a long-standing and lurid fascination with psychiatric illness,” referencing movies such as Psycho, The Silence of the Lambs, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Fatal Attraction.

According to Friedman, “exaggerated characters like these may help make “average” people feel safer by displacing the threat of violence to a well-defined group.”

As a former journalist and a current communications consultant, I am naturally drawn to issues surrounding journalism and those who are employed by the so-called Fourth Estate.

And as someone who has been battling mental illness all my life, I know a thing or two about the effects of stigma.

And that’s why I’m going back to my old high school. I will be the keynote speaker at a symposium on mental health stigma.

The Carter Center does a succinct job of defining the problems associated with stigma:

“In ancient times the word stigma was defined as ‘A mark burned into the skin of a criminal or slave, a brand.’ This inhumane treatment was metered out to criminals and anyone felt to be a threat to society. Have we really come so far today? Just mention depression or worse Bipolar to most employers, family or friends and the reaction’s generally a negative one.”

Superman and Lois Clark

Maybe you remember the 1978 movie Superman.

The movie may have been cheesy, but the cast was stunning. Some of Hollywood’s most enduring and iconic figures were featured in that film, including Marlon Brando, Gene Hackman, Ned Beatty, Valerie Perrine and Margot Kidder.

The film also launched the career of Christopher Reeve, a handsome, muscular man who was cast in the leading role as the Man of Steel.

While participating in a 1995 equestrian competition in Virginia, Reeve was severely injured and became paralyzed. His injuries elicited support from all over the globe. He spent the rest of his brief life trying to help others with spinal cord injuries and established the Christopher Reeve Foundation.

He was a sympathetic hero. He touched us all. The man of steel could not escape this batch of Kryptonite. He died in October 2004 and millions mourned his passing.

Now, let us examine the fate of Superman’s leading lady, Margot Kidder, a successful actress who was cast as the petulant, cynical and manic reporter, Lois Clark.

A year after Reeve was paralyzed, Kidder was found by police hiding in the bushes in a suburban neighborhood near Los Angeles, California. She was taken into custody for a psychiatric evaluation.

The world was not so nice to Ms. Kidder.

Kidder has a bipolar disorder, so she became fair game for the media, late night comedians and a slew of derisive web site commentary. She was certainly no Superman.

She was human, frail and vulnerable but in a different way than her co-star, and that difference was best amplified by the ridicule that continues to follow her today, some 15 years after her illness became fodder for her former Hollywood colleagues.

Maybe that’s why fellow Superman star Marlon Brando spent so many years keeping his mental illness a secret.

By the time Superman was released in 1978, Brando was already known as one of Hollywood’s most iconic figures. The star of “On the Waterfront” and “The Godfather,” he was a tough guy’s tough guy.

But his mental illness apparently was a bit tougher.

Brando was a deeply troubled man struggling with depression, anger, and loneliness, according to those who knew him and detailed in an article by the National Center on Physical Activity and Disability.

Brando was from a generation of those who didn’t talk about mental illness. A generation that believed depression was little more than self-pity run amok or some other sort of character flaw.

It was that same generation of actors which produced the original Superman, George Reeves.

George Reeves (no relation to Christopher) was an actor best known for his leading role in the 1950s television series, The Adventures of Superman.

Reeves’ untimely death at age 45 was officially ruled as a suicide by police, although there is much speculation about that fact, most notably in the 2006 film Hollywoodland, which stars Ben Affleck as George Reeves.

Whether Reeves committed suicide is irrelevant and will probably remain a mystery for a long time to come.

But we do know how Hollywood would have treated him if he had talked publicly about battling depression.

Just ask Lois Lane.

Testimony in support of LD 364

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

A copy of the testimony I presented to the Maine Legislature’s Joint Standing Committee on Insurance and Financial Services on March 2, 2011

Re: LD 364, Resolve, Directing Updated Review and Evaluation of Maine’s Mental Health Parity Law

 Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the committee. Thank you for the opportunity to speak to you today about the importance and my support of LD 364.

My name is Randy Seaver, and I am here.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if that statement seems vague, please allow me to explain. From my perspective, it is nothing short of a miracle that I am able to stand before you today and testify about the critical importance of maintaining Maine’s mental health parity legislation.

What do you see when you look at me? Perhaps you see a father, a husband or a communications consultant? Maybe you know me from some of the other state policy work I have been involved with over the last several years. Perhaps you know me as a veteran; or as a former journalist and newspaper editor.

In fact, I am all of those things. But what you may not know is that I am also someone with a mental illness who requires daily medication and ongoing treatment. I am not unique. I am not an anomaly. In fact, I am just like the thousands of other Maine people who suffer from some sort of mental illness.

If you think my numbers are high, please consider that the Centers for Disease Control estimates that 1 of every five Americans suffers from some form of mental illness. Based on the latest Census figures regarding Maine’s population, the math will tell you that there are more than 200,000 people just like me in Maine.

We are your neighbors, your friends, your co-workers and colleagues.

Mental illness is no different in its implications than any other form of disease, such as Diabetes or epilepsy. Would you think of me any differently if I stood before you to talk about insurance coverage for diabetics?

My illness, as long as it is treated properly, is virtually impossible to detect. When addressed through medication and regular clinician visits, my illness does not prevent me from doing things that so many us take for granted: holding a job, maintaining a marriage, volunteering in the community and yes, even paying taxes that support our communities.

But there is another side of that coin because I know all too well the costs associated without access to treatment and medications. Between 1982 and 1998, I was in and out of various hospital settings and unable to hold a job or maintain a relationship.

In fact, if you were to eat just one whoopee pie for every time I was hospitalized during that 16-year time frame, you would die of hypoglycaemic shock before you were halfway there.

When Jared Loughner committed his horrific acts of violence in Tucson, I knew that I had a responsibility to speak up publicly about both the stigma associated with mental illness and the need to ensure that people have fair access to treatments and medications.

You see, Jared Loughner and I are not that much different. The only real difference is that I was able to receive treatment and medication, and that I take responsibility for managing my illness.

Those two things are important, and they are the only reasons why I am here today, and not in prison, a hospital ward or a morgue.

But without access to treatment, how am I able to take responsibility for managing my illness? If I pay the same insurance premium as my neighbor, why should an insurance company view my illness any differently?

Access to medication and ongoing treatment allows me to be a productive member of my community. Without that access, it is likely that I will end up in a hospital. If I’m not working, I’m unable to support myself. I am not paying income taxes or contributing to the economy as a consumer of goods and services. Wouldn’t you agree that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?

Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Randy Seaver, and I am here!

I am here to plead with you to maintain and support Maine’s mental health parity law.

The Trouble with Cinderella

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

I didn’t find out about Artie Shaw’s death until four days after it happened. Artie died on Dec. 31, and I learned the news when last week’s issue of Newsweek arrived at my house.

Given all that is happening in the world, the death of a long ago band leader may seem insignificant and somewhat irrelevant, especially for those of us who were born long after Mr. Shaw put his clarinet up on a shelf and walked away from the fame and fortune that society heaped upon him during the 1930s and ‘40s.

But since this is my column and because I shared a special connection with Mr. Shaw, I decided this week to use his life story as a metaphor for the debates that are shaping our public policy today.

Like me, Artie played the clarinet. Unlike me, he was damn good at it. But he was also a prolific writer and became – despite his best efforts to be a recluse — a champion of America’s civil rights movement.

Born in 1910, Arthur Arshawsky eventually changed his last name in order to evade the anti-Semitism that hid just beneath the surface of his Connecticut hometown. He was born to working-class parents, but his musical talents made him bigger than life. Despite all his successes, however, he flatly refused to become part of the glamour-set that was emerging in Hollywood.

In his auto-biography, The Trouble with Cinderella, Shaw recalls a party he attended in which J. Paul Getty was also a guest. Getty, I suppose, could be compared to today’s Donald Trump because of his penchant for media attention and massive wealth.

During the party, Shaw approached Getty and asked the celebrity multi-millionaire a simple question. Have you ever wanted anything that you couldn’t get? Getty thought about it for a moment, and then smugly replied, “No, I suppose there hasn’t been anything I couldn’t get.”

Shaw shook his head and said, “I find that very sad.”

Perplexed, Getty asked the famous bandleader why the idea of untold wealth made him sad. “Because you have never experienced what everyone else has,” Shaw replied before turning and walking away.

It’s just one of many examples of how Artie Shaw bucked society’s trends. But perhaps his biggest accomplishment came when he courageously defied the accepted racial practices of the entertainment industry by refusing to sequester his African-American band members during performances in the south.

He was also the first white musician of any significance to allow an unknown jazz singer to accompany him on stage. Billie Holiday was at that time an unknown, but Artie allowed her to sing with his band in New York City.

Eventually, Shaw — who was married to such celebrities as Ava Gardner and Lana Turner — found himself before Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s subcommittee that was intended to root out Communists and other so-called “Un-Americans”

Disgusted with his homeland, Shaw ditched the United States and moved to Spain, where he spent several years studying fishing. He eventually returned to America but avoided the public limelight for the remainder of his life.

So what does all this have to do with today? Well, coincidentally, I am now reading What’s The Matter With Kansas? How Conservatives Won The Heart of America by Thomas Frank. It is a fascinating book that details how Republicans won over the so-called red states that until very recently favored Democrats.

In a nutshell, Frank theorizes that many Midwestern voters switched their political affiliations primarily because of their religious beliefs, despite the conservatives’ consistent push for deregulation and privatization, which have hurt the red states more so than other parts of the country.

I say all this because otherwise sensible and decent people get all bent out of shape when discussing homosexuality and the concept of same-sex marriages. Pundits tell us it was one of the driving forces behind Bush’s most recent success.

As a happily married heterosexual, I cannot — for the life of me — figure out how the concept of two people loving one another in any way threatens the sanctity of my marriage. Why does it matter? Doesn’t the institution of marriage face bigger threats from Brad Pitt, Britney Spears and the plethora of reality TV shows that dominate our landscape?

Despite all his shortcomings, including repeated bouts of major depression, Artie Shaw had the guts and wisdom to speak out against what he saw as fundamentally wrong with society long before it was politically correct to do so.

God knows I hate the politically correct mantra, but I have a much deeper disdain for any form of discrimination that threatens the God-given dignity bestowed upon all human beings. Period.

MERC: Broader implications for Maine’s solid waste problems

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

In many ways, Old Town is a lot like Biddeford. Both cities are supported by a manufacturing base and perched along a river bank. Biddeford has the University of New England, and Old Town is just a short drive away from the University of Maine’s Orono campus.

But while Biddeford considers the possibility of getting out of a host communities contract with Casella Waste Systems, city officials in Old Town are now preparing to enter into a similar agreement with the same company.

And in the end, if the controversial MERC plant is closed in Biddeford, the trash that is now incinerated on the banks of the Saco River could soon be on its way north, to where the Penobscot and Stillwater rivers merge.

The convergence of the two cities started a little more than two years ago, when Georgia Pacifc (headquartered in Atlanta) announced in February 2003 that it would soon close the doors at its Old Town tissue- paper mill.

Gov. John Baldacci’s office immediately scrambled, setting up a deal to save 450 jobs that pay an average of $55,000 per year by purchasing the paper mill’s 68-acre landfill in nearby West Old Town.

The deal allowed Georgia Pacific to use the money to become more efficient and save energy costs by developing a biomass boiler. That, state officials hoped, would make the mill more efficient and prevent the jobs from being transferred out of state.

That deal, however, set the stage for controversy, creating noticeable tension in the community of 8,500 people where Georgia Pacific pays $3.3 million in property taxes, roughly one-third of the city’s tax roll.

The deal was formally struck in February 2004, allowing the state to buy the landfill from Georgia Pacific for $26 million. But since Maine didn’t have the cash to buy the landfill, it sought help from Casella, offering the Vermont-based company a 30-year lease to operate the existing landfill.

By state law, the development of commercial landfills has been banned since 1989. Since Casella needed a way to increase its market share, the company agreed to pay $26 million for the operation rights, giving them a firm market hold in Maine, where they also own a number of related facilities, including the MERC plant in Biddeford and the former Pine Tree landfill in Hampden, a short drive south of Old Town.

Although the deal seems to have many advantages — including increased disposal capacity, saving endangered jobs and providing a glimmer of hope for closing MERC — critics say the bad outweighs the good and accuse state officials of merely allowing two large, out of-state companies to get into bed together at the expense of a small community’s environmental well-being.

The battle begins

Matt Dunlap was serving as Old Town’s state representative when Georgia Pacific announced two years ago that it would be closing its plant. Today, Dunlap serves as Maine’s Secretary of State, and he described the landfill deal as “one of the hardest things I have ever dealt with.”

Dunlap said the deal pitted neighbor against neighbor in Old Town.

“I lost some very good friends because of this situation,” he said during a telephone interview Friday. “I remember coming out of one public hearing in Old Town, and somebody had written the word ‘traitor’ on the back of my truck.”

Dunlap quickly concedes that the deal was moved along quickly, but insisted that no one did anything to hide the truth or to purposefully cloud the issue, as critics of the deal contend.

“We did debate this at 11:30 at night,” Dunlap said, referring to the legislative session that ended in June 2003, when state lawmakers were asked to approve the landfill’s transfer of ownership at the last possible minute — just before the session was scheduled to end. “Everyone was scrambling to do whatever we could.”

Like other state officials, Dunlap points out that the West Old Town Landfill was already in existence when the state offered to buy it. The landfill, he said, was previously owned by the James River paper mill and was used for that company’s sludge disposal. When Georgia Pacific bought the James River mill the landfill was part of the package.

“One way or another that landfill was going to be sold,” Dunlap said. “I thought it was better to have the state buy it so that we could have more control over it.”

If Georgia Pacific had closed its doors in Old Town it would be an economic catastrophe for the city, Dunlap said. “The worst news you can get when you’re a legislator is that one of your largest employers is shutting down,” Dunlap said. “We had to move at a fast pace.”

Despite critics’ assertions that the deal was kept under wraps, Dunlap said many people in Old Town didn’t pay much attention to the deal until it was finalized. “There were front-page stories in the Penobscot Times (an area weekly newspaper) and the Bangor Daily News, but people apparently didn’t pay much attention. It was such a complicated issue.”

But State Rep. Joanne Twomey (D-Biddeford) said the deal was never clearly explained to residents, pointing out that the public notice of the legislative hearing, which was published in the Bangor Daily News, never included mention that the landfill would now be allowed to accept “special waste.”

“All they said was that the landfill’s ownership was being transferred,” Twomey said. “If they had told people what was really going on, more people would have come to the hearing.”

Regardless, critics of the deal say it sets up a dangerous precedent, one which allows the state to be both the applicant and the grantor for expansion permits at the landfill, which is nestled in a marshy area on the westerly side of I-95, near the border of the neighboring town of Alton and the Pushaw Creek, a tributary of the Stillwater River.

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap?

On the one-year anniversary of when the DEP signed the landfill’s new license (April 9, 2004), a group of the deal’s most vocal critics gathered at the home of Laura and Harry Sanborn in Alton.

The Sanborn property sits almost directly across the road from the main entrance of the West Old Town Landfill. For six generations, the family has owned the property that now features a modern, ranch-style home with a landscaped yard.

Soon, an increasing number of trash trucks will be rumbling down the road in front of the Sanborn property, which abuts Rte. 16.

“We don’t have a problem with taking care of our trash,” said Harry Sanborn, a management consultant. “We’re not a bunch of NIMBY (Not-In-My-Back-Yard) types. We know that we have a responsibility to take care of our trash, but this deal stinks.”

Laura Sanborn said she gave up her seat in the Maine House of Representatives so that she could focus on issues surrounding the landfill. When asked if she could be re-elected after publicly opposing a deal that was designed to save jobs, she took a deep breath and said,

“I’m not sure, but I know that I’m doing the right thing.”

The Sanborns are members of a group known as We The People, a grass-roots coalition of highly motivated people who share only one common denominator: opposition to expanding the West Old Town Landfill.

The group has fi led an appeal in Penobscot County Superior Court, arguing that the landfill should not have received a permit to expand.

According to the Maine State Planning Office, the 68-acre landfill will now be able to take in 10 million cubic yards of waste, stretching 180-feet above ground level.

George McDonald, manager of waste recycling at the SPO, said the West Old Town Landfill would likely be able to operate for 30 years, despite the need for another expansion in three years that is already in the works.

We The People members, however, wonder why the state didn’t consider the Carpenter Ridge landfill in Lincoln for their new deal.

Carpenter Ridge sits on 37 acres, but McDonald said expanding it would be cost prohibitive (estimated at $35 million) and points out DEP concerns about its geologic stability. “It’s still something we mayhave to look at down the road,” he said.

But the Old Town plan seems to work better (or worse, depending on the perspective) for a deal, which essentially allows Georgia Pacific to escape any future liability concerns connected to the West Old Town landfill, where critics have already raised environmental concerns.

Members of We The People say the deal does nothing for Maine’s future, only allowing Georgia Pacific and Casella to make millions of dollars while the state was held hostage for politically-valuable paper mill jobs.

“Ultimately, this is all about money,” said Stan Levitsky, a graphic designer and member of We The People. “Just look at the corporate connections. Georgia Pacific’s attorney (John Delahanty of Pierce Atwood) is a registered lobbyist for Casella.”

The money trail

While the West Old Town Landfill deal allows Casella to operate a commercial landfill that is really not a commercial landfill because it is owned by the state, Georgia Pacific also got a lot more than a $26 million biomass boiler out of the deal.

And while the governor’s office said the deal would save jobs, there is no written guarantee of that fact, especially in an economy that is becoming increasingly competitive as global markets continue to merge.

Thus, We The People contends that the state got left with the short end of the stick and their community will soon become host to an increasing amount of trash from all over Maine and beyond.

As part of the deal, Casella will be allowed to take in roughly 540,000tons per year of trash into the landfill. Furthermore, Casella has offered to sell some of that trash (construction and demolition debris) to Georgia Pacific as fuel for its new boiler. That “fuel” cost will be capped at $4 per ton, which is roughly half the current market rate, allowing Casella to have more capacity at the landfill and Georgia Pacific to enjoy subsidized energy costs, netting Casella roughly another $400,000 in annual revenue.

Political connections

Paul Schroeder, another member of We The People, said some of his biggest concerns about the deal focus on how it was orchestrated, saying pressure from the governor’s offi ce was put on the DEP to ensure that the deal would go through.

“Maine is going to become the final resting ground for everything that no one else wants, and it was all done under the guise of saving jobs,” Schroeder says. “The similarities between Old Town and Biddeford shouldn’t come as a surprise. That’s how these deals are done.”

And Levitsky says the people of Old Town were never asked whether they wanted to approve the deal, crediting Twomey with at least pushing for public hearings about the proposal. “Originally, people like Matt Dunlap were saying we didn’t need public hearings because this was all about saving jobs,” Levitsky said. “No one did their homework until it was too late.”

Schroeder has constructed a detailed timeline of the events leading up to the deal’s approval, pointing out that the original proposal came out of the Legislative Revisor’s  office on May 30, 2003. On June 2, 2003, the following Monday, a public notice about the hearing was published in the Bangor Daily News. On June 3, the hearing was held and only seven people showed up to testify, all union representatives who were concerned about the possible loss of Georgia-Pacifi c jobs.

“We never knew about it,” Schroeder said. “It was signed, sealed and delivered before anyone could balk.”

What to do now?

Gary Sirois is the chair of the Old Town City Council. Now serving his second term on the council, Sirois said he’s trying to “look at the whole picture” as his council considers a long-term, host communities contract with Casella.

“We’re concerned, but we have to go on the assurances that we’re getting from the state,” Sirois said. “It’s a difficult and complicated issue, but we’re told that the management of that landfill is going to be done right.”

Sirois said his council will likely spend the next few months in negotiations with Casella, and declined to discuss specifics of the proposed contract, citing their confidentiality during executive session meetings. “We’re just trying to do the best we can with what we’ve got,” he said.

Others in Old Town, especially those who say the deal will benefit their city, were hesitant to speak on the record about the deal, citing concerns about increasing tensions in the city.

Peggy Daigle, the newly appointed city manager, did not return the Courier’s repeated phone calls for an interview.

Meanwhile, Joanne Twomey, one of MERC’s earliest and most vocal critics, sighed when she was told about Sirois’ statements. “It’s happening all over again,” she said, referring to her own unsuccessful battle to keep MERC out of Biddeford some 20 years ago. “It just keeps coming, and it makes you feel like just giving up.”