There was supposed to be a demonstration.
Over the weekend, I received an email from a national organization asking me to join a protest action at noon on Tuesday outside Congressman Bill Flores's Waco office. My new Congressman—my failed attempts to contact whom I have documented repeatedly on this blog—is one of the 87 Tea Party freshman Republicans whose unwillingness to compromise even the tiniest little bit has been driving the increasingly desperate standoff over the debt ceiling. I was so frustrated over the whole situation that this sounded positively cathartic. I said yes, and promptly received a packet of instructions and posters to print out. I figured I could even take pictures—maybe even videos—and post them here as part of my continuing documentation of my Congressman's lack of responsiveness to his liberal constituents.
On Monday I escaped with my family to Schlitterbahn, the huge water park in New Braunfels, and succeeded in not thinking much about the crisis that is threatening to bring our country to its knees. While stopping for dinner on the way home, I realized that President Obama was addressing the nation, asking Americans to contact their Congresspersons and insist that something be done. How appropriate, I thought; the demonstration tomorrow will be mobbed.
At 11:30 on Tuesday, I slogged on sunblock, got in my car and drove to 400 Austin Avenue in downtown Waco, the site of the large building that contains the Congressman's local office. I found a place to park and walked over to join the crowd. There wasn't one.
When I say there wasn't one, I don't mean there was a small crowd, or only a few demonstrators ready to chant extra loud. There was nobody there. I pulled out my phone and double-checked to make sure I had the right place. Sure enough, there was the address on the Congressman's website, along with an array of leading questions seeking his constituents' "opinions." ("Do you think President Obama will really use the money from his job-killing tax increases to pay down the debt, or will he just use it for further spending?") There was the address, and my GPS confirmed that I was in the exact spot where that address was located. I and nobody else.
I walked around the building a few times, hoping to see signs that other activists might be arriving. Every side was equally deserted. I sat down on a bench and waited. If nobody showed up by 12:20, I figured, I could probably assume the demonstration wasn't going to happen. I would drive home feeling disappointed and foolish, but at least I would have the rest of the afternoon free, and wouldn't have to spend it outside, where the temperature had already surpassed 100 degrees.
Stupid conscience. It wouldn't let me settle for that. I had driven all the way up there, and something inside me knew I was going to need to have an Amos and Amaziah moment of speaking truth to power before I left. With some trepidation, I entered the building, pushed the button for the elevator, and rode it up to the third floor.
The Congressman's office was the first door on the left. The door was large and made of glass, so it was perfectly obvious to the man and woman inside that I was looking for them and wanted to come in. No more dawdling. I opened the door and walked into the lion's den.
The woman was actually quite friendly, and wrote down everything I had to say. I, in turn, was polite, and spoke with quiet determination rather than anger. The man went off and sat on a couch and never said anything. After I'd said my piece, I shook her hand (which was still busy taking notes on what I'd said) and left. I had gotten one step closer to communicating with my Congressman.
Later that day I received a phone call from one of his field representatives, apologizing for not being there when I dropped by. We talked for a while. I offered to get together a group of local liberal Democrats for a conference to discuss our frustration with our lack of representation in Washington. I pointed out that the way that job-killing tax increases question is phrased pretty much trumpets the fact that the Congresman is only interested in hearing one kind of answer, and expressed my hope that we can break outside of that box.
The meeting won't take place for a few weeks, since I'm going on vacation soon. By the time it happens, the debt-limit nonsense might even be resolved. You can be assured, though, that I will find something to talk about, and that I will write about it here.
Showing posts with label Congressman Bill Flores. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Congressman Bill Flores. Show all posts
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Now I'm ANGRY!!
Last night the bad news wouldn't stop coming. Right now, two images are haunting my mind and weighing down my heart. On an island off of Norway, a "right-wing extremist" carrying a metallic piece of evil guns down fleeing children as though they were flies to be swatted out of existence. Their crime was that their parents were liberals. In Washington, the President of the United States, showing more anger than I am used to seeing him express - but not nearly as much as was called for - still seems baffled that his implacable opponents, acting like a pack of spoiled children, have once again walked out of the increasingly desperate negotiations to save the country.
My comparison of these two events is deliberate. In both cases, people who do not belong in a civilized society have managed to obtain power that such a society should give to no-one. In both cases, they have used it to shoot down their opponents: in one case literally, in the other metaphorically. A metaphor, though, is just another way of expressing reality. If the Congressional extremists get their way, people will die in this country just as surely as they did in Norway. They will starve or be turned away for medical care they desperately need so that the corporations can keep every single one of their obscene tax breaks.
I recently had a discussion with a friend who holds a concealed weapons permit. She needed it, she said, to defend herself. She seemed truly baffled by my response that I would not use violence under any circumstances, so the entire issue was moot for me. She's been smiling at me lately, though, so I guess she has at least accepted my point of view. Let me get a jump on the discussion of the events in Norway by saying that no, it wouldn't have been better if some of those children had been armed. A civilized society (and in my view, Norway has more right to be called civilized than the vast majority of other countries) does not make itself more civilized by allowing more people to have more weapons. It simply buckles under to evil.
By the same token, a civilized society does not make itself more civilized by trading away a century's worth of social progress in order to appease a bunch of grown-up spoiled children whose political careers are bankrolled by the very corporations whose "rights" they claim to be upholding. If President Obama has the makings of a truly great president, he will now recognize that he has no other option but to raise the debt ceiling on his own. Like Lincoln, FDR, and a handful of other presidents who have had greatness thrust upon them, he will venture into uncharted territory in order to save the country. Or he can also buckle under to evil, in which case everybody loses but the billionaires (and even many of them have pleaded with the president to raise their taxes).
This seems the appropriate place to record the fact that Congressman Bill Flores and his staff have so far rebuffed every attempt I have made to communicate with them about my beliefs. Since both of my senators did that a long time ago, I now know conclusively that I don't have a voice in Washington. That's why I'm raising it here.
My comparison of these two events is deliberate. In both cases, people who do not belong in a civilized society have managed to obtain power that such a society should give to no-one. In both cases, they have used it to shoot down their opponents: in one case literally, in the other metaphorically. A metaphor, though, is just another way of expressing reality. If the Congressional extremists get their way, people will die in this country just as surely as they did in Norway. They will starve or be turned away for medical care they desperately need so that the corporations can keep every single one of their obscene tax breaks.
I recently had a discussion with a friend who holds a concealed weapons permit. She needed it, she said, to defend herself. She seemed truly baffled by my response that I would not use violence under any circumstances, so the entire issue was moot for me. She's been smiling at me lately, though, so I guess she has at least accepted my point of view. Let me get a jump on the discussion of the events in Norway by saying that no, it wouldn't have been better if some of those children had been armed. A civilized society (and in my view, Norway has more right to be called civilized than the vast majority of other countries) does not make itself more civilized by allowing more people to have more weapons. It simply buckles under to evil.
By the same token, a civilized society does not make itself more civilized by trading away a century's worth of social progress in order to appease a bunch of grown-up spoiled children whose political careers are bankrolled by the very corporations whose "rights" they claim to be upholding. If President Obama has the makings of a truly great president, he will now recognize that he has no other option but to raise the debt ceiling on his own. Like Lincoln, FDR, and a handful of other presidents who have had greatness thrust upon them, he will venture into uncharted territory in order to save the country. Or he can also buckle under to evil, in which case everybody loses but the billionaires (and even many of them have pleaded with the president to raise their taxes).
This seems the appropriate place to record the fact that Congressman Bill Flores and his staff have so far rebuffed every attempt I have made to communicate with them about my beliefs. Since both of my senators did that a long time ago, I now know conclusively that I don't have a voice in Washington. That's why I'm raising it here.
Friday, July 8, 2011
On good health, and how much it costs
A few years ago I thought I was having a heart attack. I looked up the symptoms I was experiencing on several reliable websites, and they all told me I should go to the emergency room immediately. Tim Russert had just died and I was taking this pretty seriously. I went.
What happened next could serve as a parable illustrating what is wrong with our health care system. When I reported my symptoms, they snapped a plastic band on my left wrist and immediately asked me - if I had my insurance card. Fortunately, I did, and my bank debit card as well. A $50 copay properly disposed of, I was then asked to describe my symptoms in detail.
What I said apparently concerned the docs enough that they whisked me back for a CT scan. After waiting anxiously for a few hours and trying in vain to contact my family (my cell phone didn't work in the ER), I learned that the CT scan showed nothing wrong with my heart. Just to be sure, though, I was told to come back in a few days for a nuclear stress test. I also passed that with flying colors. The conclusion was that I have absolutely no cardiac problems whatsoever. The symptoms I was experiencing were diagnosed as acid reflux, and I was able to get them under control with a relatively inexpensive over-the-counter medication. By now they've completely disappeared.
Happy ending? Yes - except for the bill, which eventually came to about 30 times the amount of my initial copay. Those tests were expensive. And then there was the obligatory followup with my family physician.
The first thing he asked me was whether I had ever smoked. I was pretty sure he knew I hadn't, and since I already knew the results of the CT and the stress test, I couldn't imagine why he was asking. I soon found out. The CT, while finding nothing whatsoever wrong with my heart, had detected a small nodule in the upper lobe of my left lung. It was impossible to tell at this point, but there were two possibilities: It was either completely benign and nothing to worry about, or it was the beginning of lung cancer. As a result, the doctor wanted me to come back for repeat CT scans after three months and one year.
Needless to say, I was a bit anxious for the first three months. It was extremely gratifying when the CT scan results came back showing that the nodule was completely unchanged, meaning that it was not growing, meaning that it was not cancerous, meaning that it was nothing to worry about. I wasn't particularly surprised when the one-year CT scan showed the same thing and I was given the all-clear.
Did I mention that CT scans are not free? Since a full year had passed by the time of the third and final one, I had a new annual deductible to meet that was not affected by the costs of the previous two visits. The total net cost of finding out that I was completely healthy in every way that medical science could determine: over $2000. That's right; that initial impulsive visit to the ER morphed into a series of experiences that ultimately cost me two grand and three months of considerable (though unnecessary) anxiety. Of that, the cost of the Prilosec to fix the GERD was a truly insignificant portion.
What lesson have I learned from this? It's hard to say, but it's quite likely that if I ever think I am having a heart attack again, I will hesitate for much longer before going to the ER. As a result, if it turns out not to be a false alarm next time, I am likely, assuming I survive, to end up incurring considerably higher expenses than I would have with a more timely appearance. I have learned, essentially, that being safe rather than sorry is expensive, often unnecessary, and likely to leave you feeling a bit foolish. And, of course, I have insurance.
I'm a little nervous about writing up this experience and sending it out into the blogosphere, because I don't want others to follow my example. If you get chest pains, get them checked out immediately. In the meantime, though, you might want to think about the implications of having a health insurance system that makes preventive actions so expensive that it can often seem more prudent to skip them and hope for the best instead.
[NB: Last week, I spoke with a staffer at Congressman Flores's Washington office and restated my earlier complaints about the budget impasse. I told her that liberals in the district were getting the message that the Congressman wasn't interested in hearing from us. She assured me that was not the case, and gave me the name of another staff member to contact. I emailed him and received a return email promising to be in touch ASAP. It hasn't happened yet.]
What happened next could serve as a parable illustrating what is wrong with our health care system. When I reported my symptoms, they snapped a plastic band on my left wrist and immediately asked me - if I had my insurance card. Fortunately, I did, and my bank debit card as well. A $50 copay properly disposed of, I was then asked to describe my symptoms in detail.
What I said apparently concerned the docs enough that they whisked me back for a CT scan. After waiting anxiously for a few hours and trying in vain to contact my family (my cell phone didn't work in the ER), I learned that the CT scan showed nothing wrong with my heart. Just to be sure, though, I was told to come back in a few days for a nuclear stress test. I also passed that with flying colors. The conclusion was that I have absolutely no cardiac problems whatsoever. The symptoms I was experiencing were diagnosed as acid reflux, and I was able to get them under control with a relatively inexpensive over-the-counter medication. By now they've completely disappeared.
Happy ending? Yes - except for the bill, which eventually came to about 30 times the amount of my initial copay. Those tests were expensive. And then there was the obligatory followup with my family physician.
The first thing he asked me was whether I had ever smoked. I was pretty sure he knew I hadn't, and since I already knew the results of the CT and the stress test, I couldn't imagine why he was asking. I soon found out. The CT, while finding nothing whatsoever wrong with my heart, had detected a small nodule in the upper lobe of my left lung. It was impossible to tell at this point, but there were two possibilities: It was either completely benign and nothing to worry about, or it was the beginning of lung cancer. As a result, the doctor wanted me to come back for repeat CT scans after three months and one year.
Needless to say, I was a bit anxious for the first three months. It was extremely gratifying when the CT scan results came back showing that the nodule was completely unchanged, meaning that it was not growing, meaning that it was not cancerous, meaning that it was nothing to worry about. I wasn't particularly surprised when the one-year CT scan showed the same thing and I was given the all-clear.
Did I mention that CT scans are not free? Since a full year had passed by the time of the third and final one, I had a new annual deductible to meet that was not affected by the costs of the previous two visits. The total net cost of finding out that I was completely healthy in every way that medical science could determine: over $2000. That's right; that initial impulsive visit to the ER morphed into a series of experiences that ultimately cost me two grand and three months of considerable (though unnecessary) anxiety. Of that, the cost of the Prilosec to fix the GERD was a truly insignificant portion.
What lesson have I learned from this? It's hard to say, but it's quite likely that if I ever think I am having a heart attack again, I will hesitate for much longer before going to the ER. As a result, if it turns out not to be a false alarm next time, I am likely, assuming I survive, to end up incurring considerably higher expenses than I would have with a more timely appearance. I have learned, essentially, that being safe rather than sorry is expensive, often unnecessary, and likely to leave you feeling a bit foolish. And, of course, I have insurance.
I'm a little nervous about writing up this experience and sending it out into the blogosphere, because I don't want others to follow my example. If you get chest pains, get them checked out immediately. In the meantime, though, you might want to think about the implications of having a health insurance system that makes preventive actions so expensive that it can often seem more prudent to skip them and hope for the best instead.
[NB: Last week, I spoke with a staffer at Congressman Flores's Washington office and restated my earlier complaints about the budget impasse. I told her that liberals in the district were getting the message that the Congressman wasn't interested in hearing from us. She assured me that was not the case, and gave me the name of another staff member to contact. I emailed him and received a return email promising to be in touch ASAP. It hasn't happened yet.]
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Dead Poets Redux
[NB: I have still not heard anything from Congressman Flores or his staff. (See previous blog entry.)]
It's 1990. I'm married, 34 years old, unemployed and unemployable. My PhD in musicology has not only failed to get me so much as a job interview for the previous three years; it has also made me "overqualified" for everything else. (As a friend who had sweated blood to get his PhD from Stanford was told by a professional employment counselor, "Get that PhD off your resumé! It would look better if you had spent time in jail than to have a PhD!")
So I have decided that since what I really love to do is teach, and since no college or university seems interested in hiring me, I will look into teaching high school instead. The first thing I realize is that I will never be able to teach music. That may be what my degree is in, but I have never taken instrumental methods, conducting or a single class in music education. Catching up on all that would take more time and money than I have available.
So one fine day that spring I went to the University of Southern California (known locally as the University of Spoiled Children) and took the National Teachers Exam in English. I read a lot, so I figured I might do OK. As it turned out, I did more than OK. I scored in the 97th percentile - meaning, presumably, that I know more about English literature and grammar than all but 3% of the people who are currently teaching the subject. A little over a year later, having taken several classes in education and done my stint as a student teacher, I became a credentialed high school English teacher in the state of California. In the meantime, I spent the 1990-1991 school year teaching part-time at a local private school that didn't require a teaching credential.
Happy ending? Decent compromise? Acceptable stopgap? You be the judge. I'm recounting the following events in response to a story I recently read in The New York Times about the way teachers in public schools are evaluated.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/28/education/28evals.html?_r=1
Foremost among the memories this story brought back is the following: I have been student-teaching in a public high school every afternoon for the past four months. The school year is now almost over, and the principal, whom I have met only once before, very briefly, has come to observe my class. Things go well. I am not a natural disciplinarian, but I have learned that I am most successful with this group of students when I give them a little slack - kind of like Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, which came out a few years earlier. The students are not all using good posture as they sit at their uncomfortable desks, and one student is actually sitting on top of hers. These students, though, are not "acting out;" they are participating actively in the class discussion. The girl who is sitting on her desk is one with an attitude; I've long since learned that if I crack down on her, she will radiate hostility, but if I let her sit the way she wants, she will actually make meaningful, original contributions. It seems a small price to pay.
What kind of writeup did I get? "Stimulating teacher who still needs to work out some discipline issues?" (There were a few things they never taught me in the PhD program at Yale.)
Wrong. She hated my class, and told me so. In a very brief conference afterward, she let me know that she would not recommend me for a job teaching high school. In other words, on the basis of that single observation - of a class that I thought had gone well - she told me that I had wasted the previous year and a half of sitting in education classes and the many thousands of dollars I had paid to take them. I had gone from being an unemployable PhD to being an unemployable credentialed high school teacher.
Fortunately, the private school gave me a full-time contract the next year anyway. It wasn't my favorite job I've ever had, and now that I've taught college for two decades, I'd never voluntarily go back. I know I'm really not cut out to teach high school, but I gave it my best for a few years. That's how I know that the public school teacher's unions are not just a bunch of complainers out to protect a cushy system from which they have benefited. They know that the kind of "evaluation" on which merit pay, promotion and job security depend is arbitrary, rigid, impersonal, and rooted in meaningless checklists of student behaviors and "outcomes." ("Is Johnny texting under his desk?" "Did Jane get an above average score on her standardized tests, even though she is dyslexic and grew up in a poor inner-city home with an alcoholic single mother?") They know that this kind of evaluation kills effective teaching as surely as third period follows second.
Why would anybody want to teach under such a system? How much learning actually takes place in such classrooms? Do I see a hand in the back?
It's 1990. I'm married, 34 years old, unemployed and unemployable. My PhD in musicology has not only failed to get me so much as a job interview for the previous three years; it has also made me "overqualified" for everything else. (As a friend who had sweated blood to get his PhD from Stanford was told by a professional employment counselor, "Get that PhD off your resumé! It would look better if you had spent time in jail than to have a PhD!")
So I have decided that since what I really love to do is teach, and since no college or university seems interested in hiring me, I will look into teaching high school instead. The first thing I realize is that I will never be able to teach music. That may be what my degree is in, but I have never taken instrumental methods, conducting or a single class in music education. Catching up on all that would take more time and money than I have available.
So one fine day that spring I went to the University of Southern California (known locally as the University of Spoiled Children) and took the National Teachers Exam in English. I read a lot, so I figured I might do OK. As it turned out, I did more than OK. I scored in the 97th percentile - meaning, presumably, that I know more about English literature and grammar than all but 3% of the people who are currently teaching the subject. A little over a year later, having taken several classes in education and done my stint as a student teacher, I became a credentialed high school English teacher in the state of California. In the meantime, I spent the 1990-1991 school year teaching part-time at a local private school that didn't require a teaching credential.
Happy ending? Decent compromise? Acceptable stopgap? You be the judge. I'm recounting the following events in response to a story I recently read in The New York Times about the way teachers in public schools are evaluated.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/28/education/28evals.html?_r=1
Foremost among the memories this story brought back is the following: I have been student-teaching in a public high school every afternoon for the past four months. The school year is now almost over, and the principal, whom I have met only once before, very briefly, has come to observe my class. Things go well. I am not a natural disciplinarian, but I have learned that I am most successful with this group of students when I give them a little slack - kind of like Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, which came out a few years earlier. The students are not all using good posture as they sit at their uncomfortable desks, and one student is actually sitting on top of hers. These students, though, are not "acting out;" they are participating actively in the class discussion. The girl who is sitting on her desk is one with an attitude; I've long since learned that if I crack down on her, she will radiate hostility, but if I let her sit the way she wants, she will actually make meaningful, original contributions. It seems a small price to pay.
What kind of writeup did I get? "Stimulating teacher who still needs to work out some discipline issues?" (There were a few things they never taught me in the PhD program at Yale.)
Wrong. She hated my class, and told me so. In a very brief conference afterward, she let me know that she would not recommend me for a job teaching high school. In other words, on the basis of that single observation - of a class that I thought had gone well - she told me that I had wasted the previous year and a half of sitting in education classes and the many thousands of dollars I had paid to take them. I had gone from being an unemployable PhD to being an unemployable credentialed high school teacher.
Fortunately, the private school gave me a full-time contract the next year anyway. It wasn't my favorite job I've ever had, and now that I've taught college for two decades, I'd never voluntarily go back. I know I'm really not cut out to teach high school, but I gave it my best for a few years. That's how I know that the public school teacher's unions are not just a bunch of complainers out to protect a cushy system from which they have benefited. They know that the kind of "evaluation" on which merit pay, promotion and job security depend is arbitrary, rigid, impersonal, and rooted in meaningless checklists of student behaviors and "outcomes." ("Is Johnny texting under his desk?" "Did Jane get an above average score on her standardized tests, even though she is dyslexic and grew up in a poor inner-city home with an alcoholic single mother?") They know that this kind of evaluation kills effective teaching as surely as third period follows second.
Why would anybody want to teach under such a system? How much learning actually takes place in such classrooms? Do I see a hand in the back?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Calling Congressman Flores
Congressman Bill Flores, I want to talk to you.
I confess that I was not happy when you were elected to represent me in Congress last fall. I already have two Senators whom I never bother to contact about anything, since all my communications with either of them are read by staff members and answered with form letters explaining why they reject my point of view on issue X. I did, however, enjoy a constructive relationship with your predecessor, Congressman Chet Edwards.
Chet enjoyed the dubious distinction of representing what used to be described as the most conservative congressional district in the country to be held by a Democrat. He often cast votes I didn't agree with. However, he was a genuinely independent thinker who took the challenge of representing all of his constituents in Congress seriously. I got to know him a bit during last fall's campaign, hosting him at my house to speak to a group of progressive Democrats. He convinced most of us who were there that he is a sincere person of integrity who deserved our support.
Of course, you proceeded to beat him in the November election. This was probably foreordained. I don't think it was possible for anybody with a D after his or her name to win anything in the toxic atmosphere that prevailed here last fall. It is very discouraging, though, to know that I now have two senators, a congressman, a state senator, a state representative and a governor all of whom I disagree with on every single issue. There is something in the principle of democratic government that at least tries to pretend that every citizen has a voice.
In fact, I did find a very effective way to exercise that voice this spring. I joined a large and well organized group of professional colleagues and students in successfully opposing a bill that everybody had assumed would pass this year: the one allowing concealed weapons permit holders to bring their guns into buildings on college and university campuses in Texas.
So I am not exactly feeling ignored - or ignorable - at the moment. That fact makes your failure to respond to my persistent overtures since your election to Congress all the more discouraging. I wrote to you shortly after the November election to let you know that I spoke for the large number of liberal Democrats in your district for whom even Chet Edwards was far too conservative, although we had learned to live with him and respect him. I told you that I sincerely hoped that you, like Chet, would take seriously the mission of representing all of your constituents, not just those who agree with you politically. I told you that if I did not get a response to my letter, I would know the answer. I wrote again a few weeks later, just to make it clear that I was not eager to close off communications with you.
I did eventually hear from your field representative Will Flores, who assured me that you were indeed interested in hearing from all your constituents and asking me which issues I considered most important. I immediately wrote back to say that, as an educator, I was deeply concerned about possible cuts to education funding, and that I would be glad to organize a group of educators to speak to you about this subject. I never heard back.
Then last night I found a message from you in my voice mail. It seems to have resulted from what is generally known as a "robo-call." You were calling, you said, to see if I agreed with your efforts to cut government spending. Taking the question in good faith, I called your congressional office right back, leaving a long message explaining why I do not support those efforts. I also emailed Mr. Will Flores and reminded him that he had not responded to my message of last November. I am posting this publicly since I now want my efforts to contact you to become a matter of record. If I continue to be ignored by you and your staff, I will know - and so will the dozens of people who read this blog regularly (I can't claim a mass readership, but it is what it is) - that you are really not interested in hearing my voice, or those of the thousands of other liberal Democrats whom you theoretically represent in Congress.
We vote.
Sincerely,
Robin Wallace
700 Candlelight Dr.
Woodway, TX 76712
I confess that I was not happy when you were elected to represent me in Congress last fall. I already have two Senators whom I never bother to contact about anything, since all my communications with either of them are read by staff members and answered with form letters explaining why they reject my point of view on issue X. I did, however, enjoy a constructive relationship with your predecessor, Congressman Chet Edwards.
Chet enjoyed the dubious distinction of representing what used to be described as the most conservative congressional district in the country to be held by a Democrat. He often cast votes I didn't agree with. However, he was a genuinely independent thinker who took the challenge of representing all of his constituents in Congress seriously. I got to know him a bit during last fall's campaign, hosting him at my house to speak to a group of progressive Democrats. He convinced most of us who were there that he is a sincere person of integrity who deserved our support.
Of course, you proceeded to beat him in the November election. This was probably foreordained. I don't think it was possible for anybody with a D after his or her name to win anything in the toxic atmosphere that prevailed here last fall. It is very discouraging, though, to know that I now have two senators, a congressman, a state senator, a state representative and a governor all of whom I disagree with on every single issue. There is something in the principle of democratic government that at least tries to pretend that every citizen has a voice.
In fact, I did find a very effective way to exercise that voice this spring. I joined a large and well organized group of professional colleagues and students in successfully opposing a bill that everybody had assumed would pass this year: the one allowing concealed weapons permit holders to bring their guns into buildings on college and university campuses in Texas.
So I am not exactly feeling ignored - or ignorable - at the moment. That fact makes your failure to respond to my persistent overtures since your election to Congress all the more discouraging. I wrote to you shortly after the November election to let you know that I spoke for the large number of liberal Democrats in your district for whom even Chet Edwards was far too conservative, although we had learned to live with him and respect him. I told you that I sincerely hoped that you, like Chet, would take seriously the mission of representing all of your constituents, not just those who agree with you politically. I told you that if I did not get a response to my letter, I would know the answer. I wrote again a few weeks later, just to make it clear that I was not eager to close off communications with you.
I did eventually hear from your field representative Will Flores, who assured me that you were indeed interested in hearing from all your constituents and asking me which issues I considered most important. I immediately wrote back to say that, as an educator, I was deeply concerned about possible cuts to education funding, and that I would be glad to organize a group of educators to speak to you about this subject. I never heard back.
Then last night I found a message from you in my voice mail. It seems to have resulted from what is generally known as a "robo-call." You were calling, you said, to see if I agreed with your efforts to cut government spending. Taking the question in good faith, I called your congressional office right back, leaving a long message explaining why I do not support those efforts. I also emailed Mr. Will Flores and reminded him that he had not responded to my message of last November. I am posting this publicly since I now want my efforts to contact you to become a matter of record. If I continue to be ignored by you and your staff, I will know - and so will the dozens of people who read this blog regularly (I can't claim a mass readership, but it is what it is) - that you are really not interested in hearing my voice, or those of the thousands of other liberal Democrats whom you theoretically represent in Congress.
We vote.
Sincerely,
Robin Wallace
700 Candlelight Dr.
Woodway, TX 76712
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