I still remember that warm spring day. I was keeping a wary eye on the park, wondering when it would all begin. And then, a deep rumbling. What looked like hundreds of birds took flight from the trees, screaming. It was really happening, and it was horrifying.
The headline on The Kewanee Voice Facebook page is what got my attention. Our town is getting a grant to, well, buy some trees. You know, because they are good for us.
My first instinct was to comment as my old, bitter, busybody self. Something like, “Oh, NOW trees are important to Kewanee.” They weren’t back in the late ‘90s when our mayor and council voted to wipe out dozens and dozens of them to plop city hall in Veterans Park instead of across the street (where Black Hawk College now resides).
“You gotta be kidding me.”
I suppose those thoughts welled up inside me because the photo accompanying the article was of city hall. I came close a couple of times to commenting under the article, but I didn’t want to appear like the old me. No matter how much I’ve changed over the years, that “old me” sometimes tries to make an appearance. I do my best to stifle her. She’s not fun to be around.
All those years ago I made quite the name for myself by trying to fight city hall. I made a pest of myself by walking around the park, snapping pictures, making notes, and beginning a newsletter. I put us into debt with all of the office equipment and supplies to keep the public educated on what this destruction of one of the loveliest parks was doing to our town. If this was happening today, I could really let everyone know – and a lot faster than back then.
It makes me wonder if I would have been so gung-ho about this if we hadn’t attended the council meeting downtown, heard about the idea being floated for the new location, then when we got home, we heard the council broadcast on television. The mayor was saying something about how people only show up to complain when something is “happening in their backyard.” Well, technically, it was across from our front yard, but you get the idea. Gary and I both got angry when we heard those words. So, it began.
I tried filing Freedom of Information requests. I learned a whole lot through them, but what stands out is that a Star Courier reporter decided to do a story about my requests for information. He found out how many I filed and ran with his story. That clipping is probably somewhere in the house.
We were sure the building was going to sink into the ground, that it would be impossible to hold concerts in the park, that our lives would never be the same.
But, guess what happened?
We learned to live with it. Yes, we did get perturbed when the college decided to build where we thought the city hall should have been. Then we let it go. Again.
We started to appreciate being able to walk across the street to pay our water bill. I took a tour of the building, and despite my former zeal to keep it from happening, I found it to be impressive. I did interviews there, learned about storm spotting, covered council meetings.
And, here’s what’s most important to me. I met paramedics and police officers who care.
When Gary died, they were right here. They were gentle, patient, and respectful. No one rushed me. They comforted me. They stayed after Gary was taken away.
When I fell, twice, they only had to come across the street. When I had a full-blown panic attack, paramedics came and stayed with me for an hour, talking, joking, and teaching me how to breathe.
Firemen came to check for gas leaks. Paramedics took me to the hospital a few times. And this is a biggie: When I was told what happened to our oldest son, officers came to take reports, investigate, and check up on me. At one point, Officer Nick Welgat came to do a welfare check. Former Detective Rosa Rushing did the same. Both of them were at one time involved in my son’s case. I will always be grateful for that.
I guess what I’m saying is, yes, trees were taken to make room for a building, but it’s so much more than brick and mortar. There are people inside that are vital to our community. I’m thankful they are where they are. I can see that now.
So, let the grant money come. Plant those trees. Let’s give our town something else of which to be proud.
