I almost ran over Tom Gray today. Well, I think it was Tom. It wasn’t intentional, of course, and he probably didn’t notice. We were both paying attention to our Main Street surroundings, as sensible Cambrians do. The crosswalk and Tom were where they were supposed to be. So was I, buckled in, hands appropriately spaced on the steering wheel. My eyes ran through the sequence – straight ahead, sweep side to side, check mirrors, react, and repeat. Tom, it seemed, was doing likewise, sans steering wheel. He made it across safely, and I continued on my way. So what happened? I’ll tell you what happened; it was those damn scarecrows, that’s what happened.
Boo Who?
They are everywhere. On the corners, in the alleyways, and fronting just about every store in town. They pop out from behind the pines. They drop like party streamers from lamp posts. They stand guard at the entrance to the church. I stood on Cambria Drive for twenty-seven minutes, waiting for a Dancers By The Sea Flash Mob. Nope. Scarecrows.
Nuns and priests. Cats and Dogs. Goblins and ghouls. Pirates and Italian Chefs. I waved enthusiastically to a group of cyclists, thinking it might be Andy, Susan, and Charles. I assumed they were going slowly to accommodate a new hip. Wrong! Scarecrows.
After a spirited discussion on local water politics, I took off my glasses to give them a wipe. When I put them back on, I realized I had been arguing with a dummy, and not Cindy Steidel. Hoping nobody noticed, I patted a stuffed shoulder and thanked her for service to the community.
Say It Like You Mean It
I decided to make the most of my mistakes and began shouting greetings to all the figures. “Hi, Elizabeth! Great pictures from the beach this morning!” “Thanks for the road closure matrix, Susan!” “Love the new sport coat, Mr. Lyons!” “How goes the potato crop, Leslie?” “Great piece on your time in country music, Kathe!” Sorry about almost running you over, Tom!”
And thus I made my way through town, thinking of something positive to say to each scarecrow. Words I might not have the opportunity to share in person with every real, living, and breathing character in Cambria’s ever-changing story.
Different Spirits
Arriving at the far end of town, I popped into the Cutruzzola Tasting Room to say hello. I thought they might be busy, based on the crowd next to the building. DOH! Scarecrows with streamers. Thank goodness a real live Mari was there to talk me down. I did most of the talking, as I am wont to do. By the time I left, she was probably hoping for a mute scarecrow to stop by.
A Happy Place
I made it to my original destination – the Cambria Library. I go there to write, and by write, I mean people-watch in between sentences. It seems like the natural place when trying to turn thoughts into words–into sentences–into paragraphs. I like this library. It is not so quiet that you can’t think. It is not so stuffy that you are afraid to sneeze.
It is, instead, a welcoming place with friendly librarians, local volunteers who staff the bookstore, and kids with grandmas who come every week to exchange last week’s adventures for a whole new set of imagination boosters. Astronauts on week one, traded in for Lego Dinosaur adventures the next trip. Today’s choice features a Princess, a Snowman, and enough excitement to keep a young boy and a young-at-heart grandmother joined in exploration, building a bond that will strengthen with every turn of a page.
There should be a scarecrow for that.
Neighborhoods are embedded into wooded, hilly terrain served by narrow, winding streets. Most of the local roads are paved, though those that are not are somewhat difficult to drive at anything more than a slow mosey. During an emergency evacuation, getting out of a neighborhood and on to the main feeder street can quickly become a nightmare. Hundreds of residents would be making the same dash to safety.
Sitting along the wondrous California Highway 1, Cambria is often a stopping point for visitors making the legendary drive up the coast, through Big Sur, and beyond. Hearst Castle, visible from parts of town, draws hundreds of thousands of visitors annually. All of the added cars and bodies to the region underscores a significant concern for residents and emergency services personnel alike. The 1 is the only major route in and out of the area, and it can quickly become a chokepoint during an emergency. Recent roadwork brought this home like an earthquake, as many community members found themselves caught in standstills as portions of the road were closed to allow road crews to do their work, Normal 15-minute runs became hours-long crawls.
The Community Services District continues to be an organization under attack, with the General Manager the focus of an escalating, and ultimately successful battle to separate him from his job.
From my back of the room perspective, I am both happy and sad that this situation has been resolved. It was clear that the relationship between Mr. Gruber and some members of the board was not good, and getting worse. Nobody was happy, and the longer it went, the uglier the dialog became.
The Coast Unified schools are struggling. Depending on how one looks at the data, the schools are failing, really failing, or beyond all hope. A declining enrollment, fueled by the economic climate in town, is putting pressure on the district to balance everything from course offerings to staffing. This uncertainty is triggering a growing number of parents to move their kids to different schools, some private and some public. This is a tough choice for many, as the schools they are choosing are towns away. This often means travel expenses, tuition costs, and significant changes to the schedules of the parents and students. It also adds to the stigma, fair or unfair, of the Coast Union school system.
Over the past few months, I’ve taken a semi-casual look at how the Healthcare District is run. I reached out to all the elected Trustees and asked a series of questions based on my simple understanding of the organization, and my perceptions of how they were operating as an elected board. I received replies from four of the five members. Each response had different degrees of detail, from very short and unhelpful to very detailed and thoughtful. Each respondent was careful to stay within the bounds of the Brown Act as it relates to privacy, confidentiality and the appearance of “serial meetings’ – meaning each response was singular and addressed to me only.