![]() |
![]() |
|||
|
Home Artists' Info Checklist Other Info Links Pictures Forum Cerebus Wiki Site Updates Email Me |
What follows is an essay that Dave originally had posted on Xen Magazine. Since the magazine and the article are no longer on line, Dave has given me his permission to reprint his essays on the CFG site. Citizen Dave10 September 04, Dear Gentlemen: Thank you for your recent inquiry regarding the possibility of my contributing to your new publication. I would have expected that my so-formal-as-to-be-positively-anachronistic writing style—with which you claim to be familiar—might have dissuaded you, given that we live in a day and age where journalism of all varieties (most particularly that variety practiced locally by The Dull Thud Daily and the Little Weaklies That Grew: a clear case of practice making far from perfect) is of the puffy, cumulonimbus type that seems to dissipate even as one is attempting to persuade oneself that there might be some manner of content in here somewhere. You flatter me and I mean that with every sincerity. However, rumours of my retirement have proven, so far, to be just that. While I assumed that—nine months after the completion of my quarter-century-plus of labour upon the world’s first 6,000 page graphic novel—I would have, this month, given birth to a wonderfully torpor-filled daily existence consisting in equal parts: long afternoon naps, prodigious book-reading and much aimless shuffling around the reflecting pool in Civic Square, such has (at least so far) not proven to be the case. Instead, I appear still to be working more fifteen-hour days than not, firstly in getting caught up on my three-year backlog of correspondence, then keeping current with the incoming correspondence as well as assembling an Archive of my illustrious-as-it-can-be-while-remaining-from-start-to-finish-largely-if-not-entirely-invisible career as well as preparing Dave Sim: Collected Letters 2004 for publication next spring. It is this last that brings me, idiosyncratically and circuitously, to my point. As you have expressed interest in the hitherto closely-guarded secret of my Monday evenings—I am the only citizen of Kitchener, so far as I know, to attend all of the Public Committee meetings and City Council meetings (“Being a life-long resident, business owner and having attended City Hall meetings for the last year, I would like to get some basic observations on the city: what problems do you see in Kitchener that need to be addressed? What are some possible solutions? What is Kitchener City Hall doing to apply those solutions?”)—I am loathe to send you away empty-handed even as I warily regard the dozen or so unanswered missives which preceded your own into the Gaukel Street Post Office which likewise demand my attention. So, perhaps as a “one-off” (as our elder British brothers would put it) or a foretaste of things to come (if my correspondence situation ever calms down to the vicinity of a dull roar), let me provide you with my letter to Mayor Carl Zehr of 4 March just past (pages 194-196 of the aforementioned Collected Letters) a little less than two months after I had paid the not-unreasonable sum of $460 to the Financial Services Department at City Hall for all Committee Minutes and Agendas for the coming year (not having Internet access, this is the price one has to pay for that which is available for free to the denizens of cyberspace). They even took a personal cheque for the amount which I thought was rather decent of them. The letter, I think, is pretty much self-explanatory:
Several days later, as I was in the midst of answering yet another reader inquiry seeking clarification about a story point and/or my personal systems of belief, the phone rang. “Aardvark-Vanaheim.” “Hello. Is Dave Sim there?” “Speaking.” "Mr. Sim, it’s Carl Zehr calling.” The dislocation from my world of correspondence where I’m famous to my hometown world where I largely don’t exist was wrenching. I tried to place the name. Texas? England? “The mayor of Kitchener,” he added helpfully into the widening silence. “Oh, of course. How are you…” and I came up empty on the proper form of address for the mayor of a city. “Your worship” was what I was looking for and not finding. “…Mr. Zehr.” He allowed as how he was fine and expressed his thanks for what he considered a very well-thought out letter. It is, of course, an astute political move to answer a very specific letter with a courtesy phone call. No paper trail. Of course the hidden flaw there is that it leaves one open to the paraphrasing of one’s viewpoints. Which I will now proceed to do. The essence of the mayor’s point was that he didn’t consider it good business for the city for the mayor to tie his own hands in the manner which I was describing. There were too many possibilities of emergencies and what-not where last week’s wise cap on borrowing authority would become this week’s foolishness in light of changed circumstances. I prefer communication on paper for the exact reason that it’s easier to cover all bases and close off rhetorical paths of egress. Only later did it occur to me to suggest that the cap could exclude any sort of emergency: what I was discussing was the millions of dollars being spent bringing the UW School of Pharmacy and the Wilfrid Laurier Sociology campuses downtown. Of course it would be easy to see how that might be deemed an emergency depending on how desperate you think the Downtown Kitchener situation is—or will be. But his larger point was, I think, sound. And points up admirably one of the hidden flaws of democracy in that a democracy slips from the hands of “we, the people” into the hands of elected officials as a result of apathy—and consequent abdication of authority—on the part of the citizenry. Kitchener City Hall was an enormous expenditure, as an example, for a municipality the size of ours. However, it has certainly provided a centre for Downtown Kitchener events, from Kristkindl to Cruisin’ and from Blues, Brews and Barbecues to near-weekly events in the City Hall rotunda. It is fully paid for and continues to pay dividends and has demonstrated that while Downtown can get downright weird (in the cliché-ridden pierced-and-tattooed way that all downtowns seem to share in the early hours of the twenty-first century), it is also quite safe and oftentimes genuinely interesting. The urge on the part of fearful suburbanites to string barbed wire and erect guard towers on Queen’s Boulevard to keep “those sorts of people” at bay seems to have dissipated according to Marty Schreiter of the Kitchener Downtown Business Association—he gets very few hate e-mails these days when another program to revitalize downtown gets passed and publicized in the Dull Thud Daily. It seems that suburban fear has given way to a genuine civic pride that we here in Kitchener—on occasion, intermittently and briefly—can almost be as exciting as Toronto (with the frisson of titillation that that thought engenders in your average Kitchenerite). Arguably a fully-mobilized citizenry intent on imposing their will would’ve prevented the new City Hall from becoming a reality. A great deal of money is being spent downtown and will be spent downtown along those same theoretical lines that supported the construction of the new City Hall, Your New Kitchener Market (“Your” in the collectivist, rather than individual sense) being the latest in the “Boon or Boondoggle?” category. If I had to make my best guess, I would say that the amounts on the table for various downtown projects, at this moment, exceed what the average citizen of Kitchener would consider “prudent” by a factor of at least five at both ends of the political spectrum. On the right because it is considered an excessive tax grab which will take money of the pockets of citizens—particularly senior citizens on fixed incomes—that would be of greater benefit circulating normally through the local economy. On the left, because All Those Millions could’ve been used to build low-income housing and to finance the Rube Goldberg-style social-engineering which is as beloved as mothers’ milk to our largely Marxist citizenry (he said, from somewhere to the right of George W. Bush). But the larger point—as I took it, anyway—was a good one: it isn’t up to the mayor to tie his own hands. It’s up to the citizens of Kitchener to tie the mayor’s hands if they think it necessary. If 180 million dollars seems like too much, then, presumably Council Chambers should be filled to the rafters with irate citizens, registering as delegations to express their opposition to the Mayor and Council. There was a delegation of a dozen or so senior citizens at one of the Council meetings just after the figure of $200 million got bandied about in the Dull Thud Daily and Councillor John Gazzola (Fairview-Gateway Ward 3—God bless and keep you, sir) tried to rally the citizens against what he clearly saw as an unconscionable and ill-advised expansion. The mayor, with characteristic grace and equanimity, rode what little wave-making resulted and, essentially, shaped the foundation of the City’s financial house (unless I miss my guess) for generations to come with a minimal amount of dissent (including my own) and very-little-to-no opposition. Each Monday, after each delegation had been heard and had departed (I have yet to see anyone stay past the time of the goring of their own oxe, the hoeing of their personal row), there we were: Mayor Zehr, the six elected councilors, city staff and Citizen Dave. Patiently making our way, point-by-point through the various agenda items. The mayor had asked me to come up and introduce myself after the next Council meeting. Which I did. “Nice to put a face to the name,” he said as we shook hands. Councillor Geoff Lorentz (Ward 5, Forest-Rockway)—he of the dry and acerbic wit (his exchanges with the Mayor whenever the subject of Regional government comes up are worth the price of admission)— acknowledged my attendance record with a wry smile, saying “You must be a glutton for punishment.” Strangely enough, that was what then-candidate, now MPP John Milloy had said to me when I had turned up at my second all-candidates meeting during the last provincial election campaign. It seemed ungracious and ill-mannered for me to remark on what a sad commentary on our society as a whole his—and Mr. Milloy’s—observation reflected in a general sense. Of course, it had been said at the end of two-and-a-half hours of arduous hair-splitting sophistry when root canal can seem preferable to municipal politics. I demurred, No, I find it all quite interesting, I said. And then added, in all honesty, I don’t envy you guys. Which is true. I can’t count the number of times that I’ve been very glad that it wasn’t me who had to decide whose oxe got gored tonight and whose row got hoed. But I have to admit that I have often wondered—given the amount of complaining that people do about politics at all levels and jurisdictions—where all the complainers are Monday night. Any Monday night. It’s nice to think that 200-or-so thousand people are all up-to-their eyeballs in critical last-minute work assignments, researching their PhD’s or otherwise enriching their society and our city with their time, their intellect and their attention every Monday night of every week. Of course I hate to think of how many of them are actually doing nothing more important than watching the same Friends or Seinfeld episode for the ninth time, or staring slack-jawed at the latest brain-dead “reality” television program. Anyway, thank you again for your interest. I’m sorry this wasn’t more edifying or more thorough. I’ll try to make amends by writing something for you of genuine substance—something with some real meat on its bones—as time allows in the future. Please feel free to run this as an extended letter to the editor or something in one of the early numbers of your publication if you are so inclined. Sincerely, Dave Sim
|