Score 1 for the Chicken People

There are rare times when something that begins as a bad time turns out to be such a good experience, it makes you want to dance in the street.

On the way back to my car yesterday, after the Board of Supervisors meeting, I was doing a little jig with my cane.

I told you about the rooster ordinance. Over the years I have trudged down to the BS meetings many times to speak against whatever new idea the slicks had come up with to make our lives more complicated. The rural side has not won very often.

Yesterday we won, but it wasn’t just the victory that was sweet, it was all the things that came together to make it happen: watching people find their own power to make a difference, then seeing them succeed.

I agonized over my own speech. Being at the BS is very daunting. You stand at a podium with a microphone and speak to the supes, with the audience behind you. There is a time clock in front of your face that tells you how much time you have left. Generally you have 3 minutes. Three minutes that is probably boring as hell to the supes, who have heard it all before. But to you it could make the difference between life as you know it and a new life in over-regulated hell.

So every day I would keep a sheet of paper on my desk and jot down thoughts as they came. I ended up with 5 pages of snippets. Then I put them in order and wrote my speech. It was at least 10 minutes long and still didn’t cover everything that needed to be covered. By this I do not mean everything I personally needed to cover, but EVERYTHING that needed to be covered. I always manage to convince myself that it’s my personal responsibility to protect the world. Often enough it works out that way, there aren’t enough other people who will step up and help. They agree, but they don’t have the time, the opportunity, or maybe the self-confidence, to step up and speak. This is not bad, it just IS.

It’s really hard to write the perfect speech with the (self-imposed) weight of the world on your shoulders. When I finally finished it, I tried it out on Bob. He was neither impressed by my facts and organization, nor amused by my attempts at humor. “That’s crap,” he said. And I listened to him. Not only does he have a natural ability to cut through crap, but he really excelled in his Argumentation and Debate class a couple of years ago. He told me what to do and I went back to work. I stayed up late. I got up early. By yesterday afternoon, I had a perfect 3 minute speech.

When we got to the BS, the head BSer announced “There are a lot of speakers on this item. You’ll each have TWO minutes to speak.” Well foo. How do you save the world in 2 minutes?

What made this a great day is none of us had to do that single-handedly. Each person who spoke brought a personal piece of the story and by the time we were finished, it was clear, complete, and compelling.

Four of us were the poultry show contingent. Richard S’s experience with county budgetary matters came through in his questions asking how anyone expected to pay for enforcing the ordinance. Chris T brought a letter from the president of the American Poultry Association and offered his own personal insights. Katherine P, who is a self-professed shy person and hates to speak in public, had a very, very good speech that she expertly pared down to 2 minutes moments before her presentation. She also wore a t-shirt she’d made that said “Permit? We don’t want no stinkin’ permit!” It might have lost its effect if it had been worn by one of the guys, but on a nice young white-bread lady, it made quite an impression. I was proud of her. All those belly-dancing classes have strengthened her backbone. I made a few remarks when it was my turn, I can’t really remember which paragraphs I left in and which I cut. It didn’t matter.

There were comments from Cowboy Jay who always does a great job of nailing threats to our freedom, from Charlotte from the Farm Bureau, and from Stewart from Vineyard CPAC. Stewart very confidently spoke for 5 minutes, right through the head BSers warnings. I’m glad he did, he had a number of astute observations, things the rest of us would never have thought about. There was a lady who publishes a newspaper in Elverta. She did what I’ve often wanted to do, walked right up to the podium between speakers and called the head BSer to task about protocol. She wasn’t shot by death rays from under the podium or anything, burley guards did not grab her and evict her from the room, something to note for future use.

The rest of the speakers were people I never expected to hear. There were several fellows who sat in the back of the room at the CPAC meetings. When the sheriff lady who wrote this ordinance talked about cockfighting, she would always mention drugs and guns and look at these guys as if they were the scum of the earth. Talk about racial (or cultural) profiling! They were all brown fellows, Asiatic and Hispanic I think, and mostly they reminded me of a lot of my neighbors. My neighbors are hard-working people, some still have trouble with English. They are honest and decent people and I like them. Mostly they don’t call attention to themselves. I had been surprised to even see brown guys at the public meetings.

One by one they came to the podium and spoke. Some had been in the military, at least one had a degree from UCD. All of them spoke well, and from the heart. They brought up great questions and covered all the topics. Everything I didn’t have time for and was kicking myself over. They impressed the heck out of me and everyone else as well, the supes included. (Hum “Rocky” to yourself.)

In the end, it was clear that while no one opposed enforcing the present laws against cockfighting, everyone agreed that the proposed ordinance would accomplish nothing except the harassment of everyone else who owns chickens in the county.

Power to the Plain Folks!

Two sidenotes:

Bob spoke at the Wilton CPAC (thanks for asking him, Anne) and did a good job. He was quoted by a couple of the speakers at the BS meeting. Just a proud mom moment.

John’s brother-in-law (and therefore in my mind, mine also) was a surprise attendee at the meeting yesterday. He is an official in another county and was there officially. I didn’t recognize him at first because he was wearing a suit. And he looked very nice, like he belonged in a suit. When you see someone in a suit at a BS meeting you just figure they’re part of the bureaucracy. I’m sure it’s the first time I’ve ever hugged anyone in a suit at a BS meeting. Or even wanted to.