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By CHET BAUMGARTNER
The light poles guarding the windswept parking lot of the Dollar General south of town stand as monuments.
True, they don’t inspire and require the same awed silence floating in and out of the Washington Monument.
But these rather jejune poles stand testament to a most-interesting story — a story about a boy … a boy … and his government.
This story of forgotten Bluffton lore can teach similar lessons.
In fact, these are lessons that Bluffton High School teacher Mike Kracium has lived through as a member of the Wells County Council since 1996; these are lessons that he teaches every day to his students in his government class.
And these are lessons that could have practical ramifications for the citizens of Wells County.
The lessons are these: Citizens should get more involved in government at any level, but they must also stay involved.
Though the spirit of cynicism might protest otherwise, Kracium has seen living examples where one man made a difference.
Locally, Jack Pace once led a “one-man campaign,” as Kracium called it, to pave the county roads – and he succeeded.
More recently, former councilman Travis Holdman started the most-recent thrust to “reform” county government.
And then there is the Dollar General saga.
About a decade ago – near the eclipse of the 20th century — a young fellow approached the city council during a meeting – one specifically held in the Bluffton High School cafeteria to muster and inflame the passion of youth.
The young man and his co-patriots wanted freedom to hang out unencumbered by the walls of their parents’ houses.
Yet, whenever they would congregate at the Dollar General lot, the police would kindly ask them to leave.
Why, the young man asked the council, could they not enjoy the otherwise-unoccupied lot.
The city council then asked the chief of police, who always attends the meetings. He politely responded that the group of youth too often littered the ground – not to mention the rather boisterous roar they made.
But the student, not to be undaunted, then asked if he and his friends could stay if they cleaned up and quelled the clamor.
Well, as the story goes, the police and city council agreed, thus ushering in a new age of hanging out.
According to Kracium, such moments, when the voter and the government join together, are “magic.”
But just as one man can make a difference, no one can make a difference too.
As the story continues, the forefathers of the parking lot revolution graduated, grew up and left – but the heirs of the liberated lot either did not know or did not care about the pact their forbearers had made to protect their liberty.
Because of this, the litter and clamor soon returned, and so, too, did the police.
And today, the lot stands empty.
“These kids fought for what they wanted, and because it wasn’t maintained, they lost it,” Kracium said.
All of these ups (and downs) – not to mention 40 years of teaching government – has convinced Kracium, he said, that the ideal movements in government come not from the government – but the constituents.
Apparently, however, the constituents – and not just necessarily those in Wells County – don’t always seem to know this.
“I am constantly being pushed by my party to get more people involved,” Kracium said. “Every political party begs for help.”
For example, Kracium said, rarely do county and city elections entice any more than 60 percent of the electorate. And primaries barely blip on their radars. Only 21 percent showed up for the 2004 Presidential primaries.
And that’s just voting -- arguably the easiest of all of democracy’s delicacies. Involvement drops off precipitously after that.
Intimidation might play a part in people’s hesitancy to cozy up to caucuses. Budgets are scary, and jargon can flow free and easy at any government meeting.
Even Kracium was intimidated when he joined the council, this despite the fact that he had taught government for nearly 30 years up to that point.
“The first challenge I had to overcome was the voice that most new … government officials have to overcome: How am I going to learn to do the job?” Kracium said.
That challenge, however, helped re-enforce to Kracium the foundation on which civic involvement stands – or crumbles: an involved constituency must first be an informed constituency.
“In order to become interested, you have to know there’s a problem,” he said.
Start with the newspaper or evening news, Kracium said, but don’t settle with just one. Look for the biases; look for the slants; look for the angles.
Look for options.
Kracium said that many people seemingly care little about the government because it seemingly has little impact on their lives. Education can counter that assumption.
Education even saved the county trustees jobs – for a while at least.
The trustees scoured the Indiana Constitution, and they discovered that it prohibited the government from firing them in the middle of their terms.
When they presented this to Kracium and the rest of the council, they agreed, and the trustees are able to finish their term in safety.
Of course, once education ignites the spark, one needs a way in which to fan the flame.
Not everyone will run for office, but there are simpler ways to get involved, Kracium said.
First, contact your precinct captain, he said.
Kracium, too, can list several ways voters can get involved beyond voting.
Walk in a parade: True, most would rather watch a parade (and perhaps score some of the free candy occasionally tossed about), but opportunities for pavement pounding and float fraternizing abound in Wells County, according to Kracium.
Walk to the polls: Elections don’t happen too often, but the county still needs help when they occur. Kracium said he has seen the excitement bubble up in students who volunteer to work the polls. It could easily happen to jaded adults as well.
Walk the streets: Constituents primary voting records are public, and if you want to get the vote out, look to sway the always-coveted independents, Kracium said (it should be noted that depending on what information you want, this option could get expensive).
Walk to the bank: Take a few moments to roll your eyes in disdain at the thought of giving more money to the government.
When you’re through, consider the following: According to Kracium, candidates will probably spend about half of any income made as government officials on getting their jobs.
Yard signs alone cost $7.50 a piece, and Kracium said a candidate needs about 300 — minimum.
But even if the John Q. Publics are now convinced, Kracium reminds them not to forget the second key lesson: Don’t forget the first key lesson.
Get involved, but stay involved, lest one forget and the status quo forcibly jumps back in to the race.
“It’s never-ending,” Kracium said “... every generation has to be retaught.”
Kracium, like the other teachers at Bluffton, has done his part since 1968, when he was first hired.
Along with bringing the city council to the high school, Kracium allows his students to participate in mock elections (thanks to County Clerk Beth Davis — who volunteers her time, Kracium said).
He invites former biology teacher Ken Ballinger to discuss bioethical issues in class, and the discussions inevitably force students to ask themselves a critical question: Just how much government is too much?
Not all students, though, keep the fires going once they leave the high school, and Kracium said he knows this. But that doesn’t keep him from trying, nor should it keep any political junkie from giving up on his less-than-enthusiastic friends, he said.
You never know what might happen.
Today, the Dollar General lot stands empty. Only the shadows of night prance around it after hours.
But these shadows are dispelled by the same light poles that once witnessed the power of one citizen with a goal.
That story ended, but another one could start — if citizens decide to heed the lesson of the light pole.