 Happy Thursday!
And…that’s all I have. Readers recognize when I hit a writing wall. It usually happens in the middle of the week when I’m slowing the pace. It’s easy to keep hammering on political issues. I could do that all day, every day, every week. Certainly, plenty of material in Citrus County, especially recently.  The bowtie nailed it.
Pretty sure that was Mom’s idea to go rogue for my senior year photo., Also pretty sure that’s the last time I wore one. Citrus County high school seniors are graduating this week. Pomp and Circumstance is the county’s theme through Friday. And incredibly, it just dawned on me that I graduated from high school 50 years ago. Let that sink in.  Well, this hasn’t happened in a while.
I had something all teed up Monday night and ready to go. Hit all the right notes. It said what I wanted to say. And then…I just decided to bag it. Welcome to the blog biz. I’ve learned that trying to do a full rewrite at 9 p.m. is never smart, so today we’re going with the tried-and-true photo page.  Florida Politics image First up, we have to name it.
The political craziness of last week is going to have plenty of life in the coming weeks. Think 491 mess with video. So, we need a name. I thought of it carefully (ha!) over the weekend and came up with this: The “Finegan-Wooten meeting.” Finegan-Wooten for short. Fin-Woo if you’re in a hurry.  Wanna get away?
I wanted to on Wednesday. Get away, that is. To anywhere but here. I’m long past the days where explosive events like Tuesday’s County Commission meeting would get the reporter juices flowing. Don’t get me wrong…I’m fascinated by it all, and brother, if you’re looking for a story with legs, this is it.  First up: I didn’t see it.
Don’t blame it on Bunny, but she’s my alibi. See, it stormed Tuesday. And I left an open window in Bunny’s room, and I know she’s terrified of thunder, and I couldn’t get that image out of my mind.  Happy Tuesday!
It doesn’t happen every year, or even every two years, but it happens enough for me to know when it’s about to happen again. That “come to Jesus” moment when politicians realize citizens have had enough. Like we’re experiencing with Betz Farm.  Happy Mother’s Day and a day!
Today’s topic is what I call the "gift that keeps on giving": A story, usually involving local government, that continues to heap weirdness onto itself with no help from anyone other than the newsmakers themselves. It starts with some oddity, the sort of thing that makes a normal person go, “Huh?” Then, the government refuses to acknowledge the obvious when citizens respond.  It was the night of July 5, 2006, when I lay awake in bed, convinced I would not see the light of morning.
A few hours earlier, I had called a friend who would take me to my first 12-step meeting the next day, July 6. But in the detox terror that engulfed me, one thought raced through over and over as I stared at a photo of Erin in her Catholic school uniform. “God, please give me another day so I can see my baby again.”  “Do you think I’m crazy?
Is there something wrong with me? I don’t want to be angry. I ain't trying to be!” — “Ninety Miles” by EmiSunshine Bravery comes in many forms. I saw it taken to a whole other level the other night. A woman stood behind a microphone, her voice edgy as she fought back tears, rage actually. Her son, a sweet, innocent boy who fought valiantly against mental illness, had finally succumbed to its dreadful grip just a week earlier. |
AuthorMike Wright has written about Citrus County government and politics for 39 years. 
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