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April 20, 2022: It’s about the Process

This is what I keep getting told about the ups and downs related to the book project. I’m now tired of this cliched phrase. It’s up there with, “life is a journey.” Who comes up with these things? Oh yeah, and there is the one about the light at the end of the tunnel. I used to think, cliché and just nod in agreement.

Now I’m saying I want to reach the end of the damn tunnel and stand around in the light.

I had high hopes for the acquisition of the Palmer food bank for the Bright Lights Book Project. There were so many options; how could anyone not say, “let’s see what we can do?” I called the Pastor of St. Michaels Church and ran my overly rehearsed lines past him. It took over a day to get a hold of him. It was nice outside. I was inside, waiting to hear from him. I felt like an ant in a jar.

I said that I was friends with Bill Schmidtkunz, and I knew Jeannie Boraga. Then I said that the BLBP was a lot like the food bank in that instead of food, we were giving away books for free. There was a significant pause, then he said that he could not help me. I did not say what I was thinking, that I didn’t need help, I needed space for umpteen books.

As I mentioned them, he refuted my requests. First of all, no, we could not move into the building when the food bank moves out because it then won’t be suitable for occupancy. And secondly, we could not build a new building on the site because it is too close to the road. And thirdly, to this kind man’s knowledge, there were no available sites in the area.

No, no, no, was all I heard. This surprised me. I’d heard good things about this man. And I do believe that this man of the cloth is a kindly, thoughtful fellow.

Yeah, I know we have a good project. Giving away books is right up there with passing out jelly donuts and coca cola. Hold the lettuce hold the mayo because we are out of white bread.

The odd thing about organized religion is that they tend to take care of their own and with a gentle wave of their hand, send the organized masses skittering down the road. For us, the journey then continues.

Yesterday, a realtor attempted to get me to hop into her team’s box. She hoped that I’d sign on the dotted line before she began searching for a place for the BLBP. I have one consolation, and that is that I am getting wiser. I told her this would be a board decision. Pete later told me that if you do sign on, you are stuck with that realtor. I then realized that I had dodged a bullet.

Next: 109. 4/21/22: Lost

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