Library move: Check it out or leave it on the shelf

It took the Rangeview Library District a long time to get voters to approve money to build new libraries and renovate existing facilities before the district contingency finally caved in 2006.
In Brighton, that meant adding on to the existing Brighton branch on Eighth Avenue.
To illustrate the full 360-degree turn from that ballot question, the library district began soliciting bids last week from contractors to build a brand new library on the former United Lumber site in downtown Brighton as part of a planned cultural event center.
How the district got from adding on to the library to building an entirely new library is an important story, but it’s only half the story.
The bigger story, or perhaps the bigger question, is how this library district became so shortsighted so fast.
After all, this is a group that, two years ago, was groveling at the feet of voters to approve a mill levy increase rejected by voters across Adams County numerous times.
There were threats of shortened library hours, less services and branch closures. Library representatives stopped short of shaking a can and pleading, “Please, sir, anything you can spare.”
Whether those claims were valid or if they were mere scare tactics, we’ll never know and it is irrelevant. Voters finally bit on the library’s needs.
Now many Brighton residents feel hooked. They believe they were reeled in on a promise of one thing and thrown back into water when the district decided to do something different.
In joining in a partnership with the city of Brighton and local developers, the library district has made a serious miscalculation.
Apparently all sides have decided this is a good idea. And when you really believe in something, it’s hard not to get tunnel vision.
But the library district didn’t anticipate the passion and attachment many residents feel to the library in its current spot – evident in a stream of letters that have found their way to the Brighton Blade opinion pages.
And they didn’t think voters would remember what exactly they voted for in 2006 on that ballot question. They forgot that, in tough economic times, no dollar is wasted; every one is accounted for and spent with diligence.
This plan will go forward. Last week’s RFP made it painfully obvious that Brighton’s library can and will head to downtown. There’s even a “meet the architect” meeting planned.
And Brighton residents, especially those opposed to this plan, will be faced with a “take it or leave it option.” There’s only one library in town: go to it and don’t go at all. Either way, you’ll still be paying for it.
It really doesn’t become a question of whether this is the best spot for the library, this is a question of principles: saying one thing and doing another.
The library district can hope the shimmer of a brand new facility will take away some of the hard feelings of those who feel they were duped in this whole process.
And, in time, maybe a love of the written word will overcome bitterness.
But folks around here seem to have long memories.
The best advice to the library district:
Enjoy that mill levy money. It’ll be a long time before you get another cent out of Brighton residents.

They called the ham sandwich fat

Subway is now suing Quiznos for false and misleading advertising. Subway says Quiznos is responsible for the negative comments people posted online about their product after
Quiznos made a TV challenge to audiences in 2006 asking fans to submit videos comparing the two sandwich makers. Quiznos argues it can't be responsible for people's opinions.
Not since Hostess squared off against Lil' Debbie in the famous Twinkie Libel Suit of 1983 have I felt so compelled to yawn because of a frivolous lawsuit. And how can you really control people's opinions if they say the sandwich sucks. I just don't think our country in the midst of the ongoing Iraqi conflict and darkening economic times, needed this right now - for our two bastions of sub sandwiches to be flinging the mayo. Until you're both done, I'll be taking my business to Arbys. Take that, fat Jared.

News u can use

If the 10 p.m. news can keep my wife awake for more than five minutes, it must be riveting. If it can make her giggle uncontrollably, then it's worth a rewind of the good ol' DVR. What got her laughing? It was a report on fake parking tickets in Boulder. Apparently, these hucksters got everything right until they decided to add some commentary at the bottom of the tickets including the phrase, "Remember: Things could be worse. Get over yourself." Call me crazy, but I like the whole ticket/fortune cookie idea. Your fortune says: Today a tall, uniformed man will be unable to resist your presence."

What's in your wallet

I know you're dying to know what I'm going to spend my government check on. Well, I don't know, the overwhelming good feeling I have from the government deciding to bless me with money has not ebbed enough for me to consider what I actually should do with it. That and the fact it isn't here yet and this is our federal government so it may never get here. The evil side of me wants to invest it somewhere since the government wants to use it as antidote to our struggling economy because they know we'll spend it right away. Better yet, I want your ideas on what you'll do with it and then I'll rip off one of those, so, please let me know.

Time for city of Brighton to move on

They say money can’t buy happiness.
City of Brighton officials have banked on it at least providing some piece of mind.
Last week, the city finally attached a dollar amount – $34,000 – to its lawsuit against Dawn Delay, one of two women who turned this city on its head two years ago with false rape allegations.
Since it was determined that Delay wouldn’t face charges for her false claim, Brighton city councilors have been bullish about making sure someone pay for not only the psychological scars etched on this city but also the tangible costs of an unprecedented police effort.
Good for them. I like the council taking a collective stand that you won’t do this to the people of our community. It says something.
But something also has to be said for the fact that we’re coming up on two years since this whole incident started.
The pace of legal depositions and other court proceedings don’t rule out it could be another two years before this is resolved. That is all with the assumption that the city gets what they’re asking for and this doesn’t end, as many of these civil grievances tend to do, with a settlement for a lesser amount.
Couple that with the associated legal fees and resources that will now be devoted to the city winning a favorable judgment and one starts to wonder if this 34K (certainly not chump change but also not the jackpot) is worth it.
The pessimist in me looks at what it won’t do. It won’t replace the innocence that this community lost. Like it or not, there were seeds of mistrust planted in this incident, whether it be residents looking at each other or Hispanic residents questioning the motives of the local police department.
You can throw $100 million at the problem but those are only issues that, hopefully, will heal with time.
The thought is, according to Mayor Jan Pawlowski, that this will bring some measure of closure to what occurred. I respect that thought.
The problem is, for however long this takes to settle, an ugly smudge in the city’s history will be revisited through legal proceedings and media coverage. It’s like trying to repeatedly close a door but never thinking to remove the large wooden block keeping it from closing.
I don’t think the city has to worry about precedents here. This was clearly a confluence of unfortunate circumstances and individuals in need of help who began this saga. If the city wiped its hands clean and decided to move on, I don’t think it would be opening a Pandora’s Box of similar incidents.
But as this incident has already proved, maybe moving on just isn’t that easy.
My hope, if the city is successful in this suit, is that this money doesn’t simply vanish to earn interest in some city coffer.
My first thought would be to put it towards the police department’s victim advocates program – help the individuals who help real victims of sexual assaults and other crimes or put it towards funding another department detective to handle these specific kind of crimes.
If this money means that much, if it’s worth the battle ahead to get it, then make sure it means something.

The pen is mightier

I agree with one of my blog readers today who shared some awe about the outcome of the Tim Masters' case. Masters was wrongfully convicted in 1999 of a murder a decade earlier and sentenced to life in prison. He was freed today – thanks in large part to DNA evidence that cleared him of the crime. But the media picked up the drumbeat of Masters possible innocence this summer, specifically the Denver Post with its "Trashing the Truth" series. Despite Paula Woodward of 9News jumping on the wagon and trying to make it all her own. I'll stay off my soapbox and say print journalists do the dirty work, the TV people burst through the door later with the cameras and big egos. This is a proud day for journalists when you see work tangibly changing someone's life. My only criticism, what took them so long? Maybe if the media would have picked this up a little sooner, it could have saved this man some time in prison. We hear a lot about how newspapers are going the way of the dinosaur (clearly the newspaper budget crises illustrate that problem) but there is still a place for us and I think they're always will be.

Unprofessional

My wife and I (and the kid) were out shopping Saturday at Flatiron Crossing in Broomfield when an ugly scene unfolded. I won't mention the name of the store we were in (SOHO - 303-404-3773) but I will say that the manager of this establishment (an angry-looking round-faced woman) put on a very unprofessional scene. In the midst of a number of customers (minus my wife who was too wrapped up in a headband search) this woman quietly (albeit not quietly enough because I heard it from a fair distance) lambasted an employee (she looked like a teen, maybe 20-something) for multiple mistakes on customer ring-ups. I felt bad for the girl as she looked like she would cry and repeatedly said she had no excuse for what happened. But angry, round-faced woman kept after her and only when my wife went to buy her headband did the manager relent so the girl could ring us up. After all that, the girl still managed to be halfway pleasant to us. Even though I'm sure she was not only hurt but embarrassed. I think there is a place to conduct these kind of discussions and it's certainly not in front of the customer. Your thoughts, please.

You people will do anything for food

Chik-Fil-A reps were more than a little impressed by the tenacity of Brighton residents to camp out in cold weather last week for a shot at free chicken for a year. Granted, it was actually Green Bay, Wis. out there but still your heartiness or complete insanity is acknowledged!

Testicle Watch 08'

First off, my best to Nene of the Denver Nuggets who is awaiting word on test results regarding possible testicular cancer. Scary time and I hope everything turns out well.
Second, can the Denver media stop with "Testicle Watch 08." Report: It's benign. New report: It's not benign. Report: It's round. New report: It's not round. Report: He has two: New Report: One on the lam. Give this man some dignity. Do we have to have the day-to-day updates on this man's ..., this is privates, I mean private! There are some places the media does not need to go. Do you hear me Drew Soicher? Get out of Nene's gym shorts right this instant!

Moral indignation needs swift kick

Journalists took a beating this week.
While state Rep. Douglas Bruce Lee was giving a Rocky Mountain News photographer the boot, I was trying to stem the bleeding from a minor falangeical hemorrhage to my left index finger – more commonly known as a paper cut.
And there you have the common dangers most journalists face day in and day out – old, pudgy lawmakers with restless leg syndrome and sharp edges on paper. It’s not exactly “in the line of duty” around here.
Of course, Bruce picked the wrong person to kick. Taking aim at a journalist, let alone a photographer surrounded by a gaggle of another photographers – is akin to trying to give the Pope a wedgie – someone’s probably going to notice.
And so what started as a simple kick and not the most savage kicking in the history of the State Capitol, despite what the Denver media will tell you, has turned into a call for action.
Now, a special committee of, I presume, legislators who could be doing much better things with their time, will study this incident – conducting interviews, gathering evidence (hand over that shoe, Bruce), hunkering in a NFL replay booth to watch multiple angles of the kicking and having lots of long lunches.
When they are finished, they will determine – wait for it – that Bruce kicked a newspaper photographer. They may order he enroll in an anger management course or perhaps a martial arts class because that kick lacked any Ralph Macchio machismo.
Then taxpayers can breathe a sigh of relief that their money was well spent when their state reps come marching home from the Capitol at the end of the session.
You may think I’m coming down on the side of Bruce. You’d be mistaken.
In fact, he sets a bad example for my daughter who we’ve repeatedly spoken to about not kicking or hitting.
So why don’t we use similar discipline with Bruce?
Put him in timeout.
Then, when he's ready to come out of the corner, he can apologize to the nice photographer and play with the other kids again.
Of course, if this special committee comes back with a recommendation of censure, then that will essentially be what happened.
The kick has happened, there is no going back for Bruce. I think the least many think he could do, count I among them, is to apologize. Even if his intent was to illustrate the importance of not interrupting prayer, he shouldn’t be above admitting he handled incorrectly.
But as Bruce awaits an apology from the media (Good luck, buddy, we’re the same folks who declared “Dewey defeats Truman”), we are required to brim with moral indignation. Our cup seems to overflow with a superseding knowledge of right and wrong.
And while we could do without the kicking at the Capitol or hair pulling or name calling and giggling for that matter, we could do without this overreaction just as well.
Good luck to that special committee. When you’re done with your work, I’ve got some grievances from elementary school that I wouldn’t mind having investigated.

Cheerio to a special place

I couldn’t help but feel a bit nostalgic last week when a wrecking claw tore through the vacant Buckingham Square Mall in Aurora.
As nostalgic as I guess as you can be for a place that equated British ambiance with a decrepit bridge over a water fountain and a wing of shops called Piccadilly Place which, just as I understand is the case with its actual London namesake, led to a sushi restaurant and a Mervyns.
But, as is the case with so many things, time and penny-pinching ownership ravaged that mall. My last jaunt through there a few years ago didn’t allow the proper time for reflection. I’ll blame my wife whose exact words I believe were, “Let’s get out of here before we get mugged.”
So last week’s demolition wasn’t the heartbreaking goodbye you would expect but rather finding, via the obituary page, an old, long-lost or perhaps estranged friend had passed on.
What that wrecking claw left in a pile of rubble, it couldn’t shatter in memories.
My dad taught me about women at that mall. No, there were no fatherly birds and the bees talks. There was patiently sitting and sitting and sitting and sitting on an unsympathetic wooden bench waiting for my mom to finish shopping at Joslins. We must have spent hours on that bench. But, with due respect for my mom’s shopping, I’ll admit time moves at an agonizingly slow pace as a child. Still, I never needed to know anything more about women and I’m proud to say I don’t.
My dad would grab a handful of change – careful to spare the quarters – for me to toss into the water fountain. One penny at a time I would toss in there with never much thought to where those coins went. In my humanitarian heart, I labored under the delusional it went to sick kids. As my age has lent itself to cynicism, I now believe we bought a lot of sodas for thirsty janitors.
Those now fallen walls held plenty of memories. There was the arcade that my brother dragged me into which had the most sickening smell that was never quite explained. There was the pizza place where my family used to share a big, delicious pie together and there was the bookstore that I got kicked out of for sneaking a peek at a dirty magazine, which I never admitted before now (hormones and curiosity be damned). I eventually went back in there once or twice, always expecting to see a shoddily drawn sketch of myself and the words in bold, black type – “Have you seen this pervert?”
How much time did my family spend at that mall? At one point, we could actually name the janitors. Skinny Bob, who I think was a two six-pack-a-day man, and Fat Al who, judging by those sagging pants, just missed the cut as a plumber.
Those were my family’s times to be together, it wasn’t Yahtzee by the fireside or Saturday morning soccer games – but it was special. And if there was any doubt about where my demented sense of humor came from – well, did your family give their mall janitors pet names?
And like so many things, I don’t think I fully realized until last week, that those times are gone and I won’t get them back. I’ll cherish those memories.
But if I had one more penny to toss for a wish into that coin fountain, I don’t think I need to tell you what that wish would be.
Relief for all parched janitors, of course.

Snowballing

The appeal of skiing is lost on me. As I explained to a colleague earlier today, people with my coordination don't belong on ski slopes, they belong in plastic bubbles. So, with no particular passion for skiing, the excitement and danger of back country skiing is also lost on me. As we've lost more people in the past couple weeks than a Mob Witness Seminar, my confusion has only grown. Why intentionally risk your life in ripe avalanche condition? Stay on the perfectly groomed, avalanche safe slopes where you're only dodging punk, teen snowboard brats. It's not like you can complain there's a lack of snow there. Explain, somebody please!

I'm busy!

Seldom a day goes by when I don't hear a news story that begins with "Police are asking for your help" or "Police need the public's help." I say "enough." I'm trying to hold down my own career, pay the bills and provide for my family without having to go on another wild goose chase for local police departments, not to mention I almost got shot the last time I tried to apprehend a wanted felon. I never ask the local police department to help me finish a story or a column, so why do I have to help them. I'm not trying to be rude, if I have the time, I'll give you a hand but, come on, cut me a break!

It's still cold out there

I know I probably speak sacrilege but I'm not a big fan of Bob Marley songs. Death be to me, if his kids, Ziggy, Dweezil, Moonfrye and Frodo come with flaming torches. Moreso, I'm not thrilled with the compunction of local radio stations which will not be named (97.3 KBCO - World Class Rock) to play his tunes on particularly cold days. You Marley fans may call it a testament to how his music continues to resound, to me it is some psychological mind trick to make me think it isn't cold out. "Here, we'll transport you to some Caribbean island with bongo drums, marijuana and Cheetos." I'm not fooled, I still need a coat outside. And, at this rate, they might as well play some Hawaiian luau songs or, gulp, Don Ho.

This is where the Ramsey's missed the boat

Once they're done counting their millions, maybe they can help O.J. find "the real killer."
Parents of Missing McCann Kid Mull Movie Deal
Brits Kate and Gerry McCann, whose 4-year-old daughter Madeleine went missing during a family vacation to Portugal last May, are in talks to sell (for an alleged $10 million) their story to the producers of the acclaimed documentary Touching the Void. Fending off claims that they are cashing in on their child's disappearance — in which, by the way, they are suspects — the McCanns say through a spokesperson, "If we feel any particular proposal in the media has validity in helping us find Madeleine, we are happy to discuss it."

Nothing like it

If you're not a parent, you won't know exactly what I'm talking about but perhaps you'll indulge me. It's hard to put into words the amount of pride you take in your child. There are a lot of things I expected from parenting (namely diapers) but I never anticipated the immense sense of hope and optimism I see when I look at my daughter. I'm beginning to see why parents proudly slap those "My child is ..." bumper stickers on the backs of their cars. I feel wrapped up in everything she will become, all the promise that her life holds. I think every parent believes their child is brilliant (if not, too bad for that kid) but I really do believe my daughter will be President someday. No joke. And, in this, I can finally see where the dark side of parenting lies. I can now glimpse where the need to live vicariously through your children's accomplishments and dreams lies. In saying that, am I already prepping my daughter for a presidential run? Yes, I am. She was so annoyed when I made her watch the Iowa caucus coverage instead of Ratouille. In honesty, I hope I can avoid that part – let her dreams flourish without forcing her to live the pro football dream that slipped through my scrawny fingers.

Huh?

My pet peeve of the day? Getting an environmental e-mail warning that winter is disappearing. This with another storm bearing down on us and the snow in my backyard just beginning to melt? Arrggh!

Drop the burger, fatty

It's nice to see folks are getting some help with their New Year's Resolutions. I just spotted a parked car pulled over by Brighton Police in the McDonald's parking lot. "You have the right to keep your resolution, you have the right to lose 20 pounds as previously aspired. And we're going to seize this evidence, too." Book him, Dano.

What's on your iPod

I'm a big music fan. In my office (particularly the newsroom) my affinity for the tunes gets swallowed up by a group of music connoisseurs or, in some cases, conno-sewer. On any given day, this group of music elitists will tout their endless knowledge of music (just look at Adam Goldstein's blog – www.brightonbullhorn.blogspot.com – a virtual mecca of obscure music that makes the sommeliers sniff with delight. Isn't Luis Jordan a relative of Michael Jordan? Between that and Allen Messick's persistent playing of Yonder There String Cheese Mountain Band (think elevator music meets Earl Scruggs) I must bury my eclectic iPod collection which includes Ashlee Simpson (uggh), Snow Patrol (so talented), Gwen Stefani (not as good the 1,000th time), and Fergie (yes, I am a 12-year-old girl by the way). But I like the impact of music in my life. I like how a good song can boost your day, I like how a somber song can cause reflection (insert bad mirror joke). Just this morning, I had an ironic music moment. Shivering in my cold car, a local country station was playing Kenney Chesney's "No shirt, no shoes, no problem." The idea (while not feasible under the circumstances due to potential problems of hypothermia) did make me long for the allure of a Hawaiian beach or perhaps a January outdoor hockey game in Buffalo. Care to share what you're listening to on your iPod? Not you, Goldstein, there's no room for Captain Beefheart on here and Steve don't bother with your all star tribute to Burl Ives, not interested!