April 2021 – lee-lawmaster.com

NO!

I was hoping to wake up at 7am and begin working on a test I need to update for a faculty member. My hopes were dashed, and I ended up not really getting out of bed until about 10am.

I then began my morning routine of going through all of the emails I had received overnight. When I was almost finished with that task, another email hit my inbox, from The Bloomingtonian. The City of Bloomington is beginning a retry at annexation. Sigh.

The green, purple, red, pink, yellow and orange areas are to be annexed.

Surprisingly, I guess I did not write anything on my blog about it when this originally popped up in 2017. The map above was originally a much larger area to be annexed.

I can’t say that it was due to my input, but all of the “1” areas were originally a singular area. I kept telling a friend who is on the city council that those areas needed split up, as they differ greatly. The next map produced was wildly similar than the one shown here.

During that time, he would provide me with information in confidence and I would spew it out and about, frustrating him to the point where he almost ended our friendship.

This is one area where he and I are diametrically opposed, and I failed to consider our relationship in the grand scheme of things with the words I said. I failed him, and for that I will not pester him and then blab my mouth in the clear on social media.

BUT I WILL WRITE MY OPINIONS

A button I received at the first “informational session” during the original annexation push in 2017

I feel that I must provide some history on this since I did not write about it previously.

In 2017, seemingly out of the blue the mayor of Bloomington, John Hamilton unleashed this wide plan to annex over 10,000 acres of “fringe” area into the city of Bloomington. The city hadn’t annexed anything for a period of almost 20 years, and there are certain areas that quite obviously need to be. Over that period of time the city has changed significantly, and the population has increased as well.

There were several township meetings held so the residents of these areas would have an opportunity to redress the elected officials about this. The one for Van Buren township (where I live) was quite lively. With many boos, etc, etc. It was there where I was first introduced to Geoff McKim, a county council member. I call him the “numbers guy”. He broke down what would happen fiscally if annexation went through. It wasn’t pretty.

I do not live in an area that will be annexed, but per what he said in 2017 my taxes would increase by 26% due to the loss of others on the tax roll for the county and my township.

The only play against annexation in Indiana is remonstrance, where I believe it is 63% of the property owners officially state they do not want to be annexed, it will be stopped.

Back in 2017, the city also stated that many of our township fire departments services would be essentially gutted; and people including me would have to rely upon the Bloomington Fire Department. Their closest station is almost 5 miles away. My township fire department has a station less than 2 miles away, and they have been here in under 2 minutes.

The city pulled some blows that were quite frankly below the belt back then too, as the issue of remonstrance waivers became a major issue. Many new subdivisions outside of city limits would connect to city utilities, and the city would provide it given waivers were signed for these properties. This gave the homeowners no say in the process. It essentially silenced them. This angered me, greatly.

Then it was announced that Cook would pay the city $100,000 per year in order to not be included in the area to be annexed. This made it very clear to us poor working stiffs that this was clearly about money, and a pay to play system was in place locally.

My buddy Steve was right, “All Politics is Local.”

Then, something came out of left field that shocked us all. The state added language into a bill that killed the annexation. Bloomington quickly filed suit stating the bill violated the state’s prohibition on special legislation. The city eventually won that case in the Indiana Supreme Court.

I was happy to see that play out, and work it’s way through the court system. I am no scholar on our states constitution and do not understand many of the rules and mechanisms in play for situations like these. I may be against the annexation; but I am not against our judicial system for these decisions.

So, here we are again. Four years later, a whole lot of arguing in person, online and before the highest court in the state. I don’t know what will happen, but I am still against this massive annexation plan.

The city has went on a wild spending spree, built a $25 million dollar park but still seems to need more money.

By contrast, my township recently completed construction on a new fire station at it’s secondary location. No bonds were issued, no taxes were raised. It was done through fiscal responsibility and saving funds for the expense.

I’m going to end post I’ve been working on all day long with something short, but sweet. This is an image of me in 2017, at the first informational session the city held on annexation. It was promised to be almost like a round table discussion; but it ended up being just a lot of poster boards around city hall. It felt like they were just trying to hide from those who they wanted to bring into the city to me. I proudly held that sign then, and I feel the same today.

Don’t make me bring the crazy eyes back out!

Time Keeps on Slippin’

As Steve Miller sang, “Into the future.”

This weekend has flown by, but I did get some things done that I wanted to get done. As of late, it’s as if the weekends have been used to recuperate from the week I’ve had, with my body feeling as if I’ve been through a marathon.

Saturday, I finally installed my missing outdoor water spigot. The way my houses plumbing was installed just puzzles my mind. All CPVC. This is just the start of my eventual replacement of all of the plumbing in my house, as I’m converting it to PEX.

Today, I mowed my yard. My grass grows rather quickly, it had grown about 4″ since it’s first mowing of the year exactly a week ago.

I then setup a new WAP (wireless access point). It’s a Ubitiqui Flex-HD. When I started to set it up, it didn’t want to work with my existing systems at all. So I went down a wormhole of setting up their controller software, called Unifi in a Docker container on my Plex server. That last part took a large portion of the day itself.

With it, I was able to segment my network and create a IOT network for all of those “smart” devices we have these days – that aren’t really so smart. I take my network security and personal security pretty seriously, and this will show them who the boss is.

A Touch of Normalcy

Yesterday I did something I haven’t in over a year. I spent some quality time with my youngest daughter during the week. Pre-pandemic, I would get her every Wednesday. We would have a bit of a date night, and then go back to my house. It was short, but always sweet. Time I loved and appreciated.

We went to a place we used to go all the time, Steak N Shake. We both wanted to see the changes they announced. It sadly all was true. I have hundreds of photos of her at Steak N Shake over the years. I called them “Still life at Steak N Shake.” Often times showing a happy girl wearing the infamous paper hat. After yesterday, that experience is and has died.

We then went to the Hawaiian Shaved Ice place just down the road. A place I remember fondly when it was just a temporary “shack” on a trailer, a place where I first asked a girl out.

We then just drove around the big city of Bedford while waiting on her Volleyball game. She was going to play the sport last year, after her first practice everything was cancelled, it broke her heart – but she understood.

I’ve been telling and teasing her for years that her great-great grandparents are buried right next to her school and the Limestone Boys & Girls Club. Due to the family photos I’ve been going through, I was able to somewhat triangulate the exact location. I don’t even recall going to it, so I had no memory either.

Ever since her move, 30 miles away from the only place she knew of as home it’s been important to me to show her that she has roots in her new hometown. My great-grandparents are the core of our roots in Bedford, as they moved our family there in 1920, when my grandma was a baby and the last time our world was experiencing a pandemic.

The building in the upper left is the gym of the Boys & Girls club.

We then kept just driving around, experiencing things I had not seen before. Amelia was calling me a stalker, as I drove 20mph down city streets taking in the variety of home types and styles.

We then headed back to the Boys & Girls club, as she had photos to take and two games to play. This is where the stark contrast between our communities showed themselves.

Monroe county still has a mask mandate, Lawrence county however does not. When entering this secondary gym, there was a sign that said masks had to be worn inside the building – with a box of masks available. Some wore them, myself included. The vast majority did not however.

The gym where the games were played was packed, with the stands not having any room to spare. There was also a line just to get into the gym.

I was able to find a chair to sit in, off by myself. I stuck around for her first game but decided to leave at the end of it. I’m not sure if I have mask anxiety or what. What I do know however is that until we as a country are ~70% vaccinated, I will be nervous when I do not see masks outside of my own family bubble.

Oklahoma, How I Miss Thee

It’s a Monday morning, and a weird one at that. For some reason the subject of Elohim City came up. I did what I do, I started reading. I came across this post from almost 10 years ago about the place, but it did something none other have done. It explained in great detail what I love about Adair county Oklahoma.

“The western edge of the Ozarks begins here in Adair County, a sparsely populated spread of bucolic communities with a mere 22,000 residents (43 percent of whom claim Native American blood) over 577 square miles. The pastoral beauty of the majestic, unpredictable terrain stands in stark contrast to the rural poverty that plagues much of its population. Roadsides are often littered with garbage—discarded, empty cans of Busch beer, cast-off plastic grocery bags, cigarette butts—and road signs are peppered with bullet holes. Gutted shotgun shacks and ramshackle houses with landfill front yards rest precariously next to forests of resilient pines and dead, twisted post oaks. Multitudes of modest white churches adorned with hand-painted signage offer a point of communion for residents to congregate and socialize.

Underneath the surface malaise and natural wonder of Adair lies an explosive history, one that informs Elohim’s existence. This is the heart of the Cherokee Nation, the last stop on the Trail of Tears where 11,000 Cherokee Indians were forcibly relocated. The area’s history is America’s history, fraught with instances of revolt and rebellion, of fierce individualism repeatedly clashing with a government status quo. This is the territory where Cherokee general Stand Watie held out against Union troops, making him the last Confederate general to surrender at the end of the Civil War, thus ending the South’s campaign for secession. It’s the home of Ned Christie, a Keetowah Cherokee traditionalist falsely accused of killing a federal marshal. When he wouldn’t surrender, a posse of hired guns from Fort Smith pushed a burning wagon into Christie’s fortified home.

The James Gang hid out here, as did Belle Starr and her bunch, the Dalton Boys, and Charles “Pretty Boy” Floyd. In 1977, Gene Leroy Hart, a Cherokee, was accused of the brutal rape and murder of three girl scouts in Mayes County. Hart was a violent local fugitive who’d previously been convicted of raping two Tulsa women. Despite the public outcry, a Mayes County jury acquitted Hart.

Today, the Cherokee Nation is humble home to small-town Oklahomans, many of whom are largely untouched by 21st century development. The landscape is wild and primitive, and self-governance is necessary for day-to-day survival. And the area’s legacy of isolationism and individualism continues, carried on in large part by Elohim City.”

I asked my aunts about the place the last time I was out, just as this pandemic was starting. I got different answers from each of them. One said that they were “Survivalists” while the other told me “Don’t even go around there or you’ll get shot.” I cannot remember what my 3rd aunt said.

I’m still coming to grips with the fact that there is a community like this so close to the area I’ve grown up loving, the area that makes me feel free as a bird. I’m not trying to start a conversation about these issues however. I understand the separatist lifestyle, that could have been me and my family at Ruby Ridge. I guess finding out about this place was the day I that I officially grew up.

Mr. President

Something I’ve always been critical of, primarily because I’ve never felt comfortable with is leadership. I’m more of a get to work and get things done sort of guy. Handing out tasks, and delegating aren’t tools in my toolbox.

Professionally, I’m an army of one. A lone wolf in a world that praises teamwork and cooperative efforts. It’s just in my bones, and in my nature. I can only blame it on my growing up as an only child. I didn’t have others to rely upon, I just had myself.

A few months ago, I was unanimously voted to be the president of the Janeway Collective. I think primarily because I took a situation that was in free fall and brought some order to it. I officially incorporated us, and we are currently in the middle of applying for 501c3 status.

Moi, when the statue was unveiled to the world – 10/24/2020

For me, it’s not the issue of the doing, it’s the “being a leader” end. It’s my place to set goals, direct our meetings and set agendas. To me, those things are minutia of minutia.

The Collective, and the people within it are near and dear to my heart. It’s a cause I’ve always been for. I’m extremely proud to have been a part of the group that finally got it done. I’m humbled beyond belief that they all trust me to lead our starship on the journey afterwards, or to give Star Trek speak, “The Continuing Mission.”

Our little statue has become an inspiration around the world. With a group working to build one in New Orleans for Sisko, and calls for one in France for Picard.

It feels so odd to just be a part of a rag tag bunch from a “small town” in Indiana that has caused quite the global stir.

Sixty One

On this day (4/16) in 1960, in Kokomo Indiana, my mother was born. Her life was full of what I can only assume was a hard childhood. Her mother, my memaw was not married and in her later years confessed to me that she became pregnant with my mother during a tryst in a church in her hometown of Leavenworth, IN.

Soon she would have a sibling, from a different father. I know as sisters they loved each other very much, and her new stepfather legally adopted my mother, but there was something she never elaborated about that she didn’t like about him.

From the combination of things both my mom and dad said to me, my mom grew up not knowing her real father, but she eventually got to. I don’t know if she was still in high school or not, but it was around the time she was 18. The experience was not what she had hoped for it to be, she had additional 2 half sisters. In the end, my father (who had just started dating her at the time) had to drive down to Floyds Knobs to get her. According to my father, he ended up putting a bullet through his head around the time I was born.

Motherhood wasn’t something my mom was prepared for, or enjoyed. She was still trying to figure out who she was when she became my mom. They were some hard years for her, trying to find her place in this world. It’s then when I think her never ending search for a “dad” began.

My father loved my mom deeply, and wholeheartedly until the day he passed away. Unlike my own experiences in life, he was always a part of the family to which he had divorced from. Even as an adult, my dad would come over to my moms for holiday events.

My mom on the other hand, spent several years cheating on my father, going to parties and spending time with darker ends of society. I even have memories of being at these gatherings with her, drugs and alcohol on full display, sex everywhere. The TV was a tool used to distract my eyes from what was going on.

My parents eventually divorced, with my father uncommonly retaining full custody of me. My mother could have visitation with me, but often didn’t have a place for me or transportation. I don’t think she ever paid child support.

For years, my mom disappeared. She was with her new man on the run from the law. Originally they had plans to go to Washington State but the gas money ran out in Texas, and that’s where they stayed. She eventually returned in an effort to get away from him but that was only temporary. It was however a sign of life getting better, as she started the job she would hold for almost 20 years then, at General Electric.

Through no choice of my own, I was forced to live with her between sixth grade and the age of majority. They were best of times, they were the worst of times. For the most part, it was like living with a room mate. There were a couple of times where I genuinely felt like I had a mother; but I always relied upon my dad for emotional support.

She supported me financially. She gave me what I can only call a middle class life, but our family unit was definitely shattered. I would often times purchase drugs for her. She would buy me a carton of cigarettes a week. She only had 1 rule, that if I was doing something illegal – I stay put. I kept my word on that rule, as I felt that it was the single thing I could do to honor her.

My wedding, where my own parents and grandparents were married

As an adult, her life seemed to be one series of disasters after the other until a large disaster reformed her life, she was laid off. The GE factory that I had even worked at was coming to a stand still. It’s now been closed for years. Through a program they have however, she was able to essentially skip the line and get a new job at the GE Appliance Park in Louisville, Kentucky. At the start it was a little rough, but she eventually was able to buy a home! Something neither of my parents had really done, owned a home.

Then, in the spirit of Star Trek, “Shakka, the walls fell.”

She lost that job too, she had amassed a large amount of debt and had nothing else to cling to but the inheritance her own mother left her of roughly $50k in an investment account and shared ownership of her home with my aunt, a home I always adored.

Unbeknownst to her, my aunt had allowed her youngest son and his newly started family to live there. I understood and appreciated it. It was better for someone to be there than for it to be empty, abandoned. I always wanted to keep that house in the family, no matter what.

With nowhere else to turn, and nothing else to lay claim to, my mother filed a protection order on her own nephew, who is an active member of the US Army. This forced him to leave the home his own mother let him stay in, that she legally owned 50% of.

It was during this time that I was going through my own circles of hell, with a divorce under my belt, a protective order on me and pending criminal charges happening. I had just gotten the job that I still have, giving me a level of financial freedom I had never known before. A load of responsibility came along with that however.

So here she was, my mother, in my deceased memaw’s house, “cleaning” it. There is no power, there is no water – there are no utilities. She asked for my help, and I did the only thing I felt that I could. I bought her as many non perishable goods I could, and loads of bottled water. I took her out to dinner, and I filled her gas tank up. I didn’t want her to die.

It was when she asked me to buy her cigarettes that I drew the line. I had tried to get her to quit smoking and at minimum start vaping for years. It is also at this point when the physical track on my mother went cold. I only heard from her two times after that day. All other information I have is 2nd hand or from law enforcement, doing welfare checks.

I found out years later that my memaw’s home, that her and my papaw had worked many hours of overtime and put lots of blood, sweat and tears into turning into the house of this grandchild’s dreams, was sold due to being behind on property taxes. It was sold to my half-sister’s uncle. Who has now turned it into something I don’t even recognize anymore. I refuse to even drive down that stretch of road anymore. My heart can’t bare to see it. They spent their lives trying to make the lives of their descendants better; and in the end the temple to which our family celebrated many of the things families celebrate became the subject that tore ours apart. It hasn’t been the same since.

So, happy birthday mom. Your children are doing okay. You have a new grand daughter. Both of your children do love you, and we do worry about you. Your oldest grand daughter needs you back in her life, as you are the only grandparent she has left; and that has left a tremendous hole in her heart.