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Dead men walking

Legacy.

It’s a word being tossed around a lot lately in the world of City Politics.  And in our estimation, it is being completely misunderstood.

Folks in elected office talk about it to mean the history they leave behind when they leave office.  It indicates the public’s perception of their impact.  And elected officials work to shape it through their public works.

Spinning out of control

It can mean a landmark piece of legislation.  Or a structural change in the way politics is done.  Or perhaps the overall impact on a particular constituency, like children or the working poor.

As in, “Councilman Goodman’s legacy was as a fighter for the rights of working people.  She always had the interests of the middle class in mind as she made decisions.”

Not all legacies are of the positive variety, of course.  An elected official hopes against hope not to leave a lasting impression of malfeasance or criminality.  “That Councilman Cheatham, what a swindler.”

Legacies can shift like the wind direction in City Politics.  Electeds try to spin and control their legacies, but sometimes it’s all to no avail.  Witness Mike Bell, who was the most beloved of all Toledoans until he backed the ill-fated, anti-collective bargaining initiative of the Kasich administration.  Now his legacy is as a one-term Toledo mayor who lost his re-election attempt by a double-digit percentage.  And who sold out to the Chinese with no return on the effort.

Bell is still lurking around the margins, of course.  Like most former electeds with a less-than-stellar legacy, he could try a comeback into office to set things on a better course.

Electeds don’t control their own legacy, of course, and not all are accurate.  Former Councilman Bob McCloskey was a fighter for the working class and for East Toledo. But his legacy was written by some envelopes of cash left on his chair at the Council dais.

Carty’s legacy is as someone who loved Toledo, maybe a little too much. But his passion was always for the betterment of our fair city.  In reality he’s more of a self-promoting chap with sociopathic tendencies.  That’s not his legacy, though.

Legacies can be carefully crafted.  As in, “Representative Pennypincher carefully scans every city budget to look for even tiny amounts to squeeze out in savings.  Maybe the fine Representative does so effectively, maybe not.  But what a fiscal hawk, that guy!”

Or they can spin out of control.  “Remember that ol’ School Board member T. Party?  He fancied himself a fiscal conservative, which led to the closing of schools and the overcrowding of those that remained. Boy, did that guy hate kids, or what?”

While electeds are still in office, they can try their best to craft their legacies and rehabilitate them as needed.  While former electeds are still alive, they can do the same, either by running for office again or by using public and media appearances to tell and retell their story.  Legacy is still always subject to the will of the people, but while they’re still kicking, electeds and formers can work to spin the yarn.

Times of future passed

The spinning gets truly twisted after an elected official dies.

Immediately the legacy card gets played, and within minutes the hucksters and saint-makers start their work.  It’s particularly easy to love someone who has shuffled off this mortal coil, and all mistakes and personal foibles are quickly erased and forgotten.

Once they’re gone, the legacy is written by others.  A full-blown human being, with ambition and lofty ideals and all-too-human blemishes, becomes a cardboard cutout, subject to the whims and needs of those left behind.

We hear a lot lately about wanting to fulfill the legacy of the deceased.  Never mind that you can’t “fulfill” a legacy, because a legacy is something from the past.  You shouldn’t want it carried on, either, for the same reason.  Legacies should be created anew.  Legacies are unique to each individual.  

Instead, they are being used as mythology.  Folks with unnatural amounts of personal ambition try to use the mythical legacy of others in cartoonish ways to fulfill their own grasping needs.

Don’t let ‘em do it to ya, folks.  If they say they want to fulfill or carry on the legacy of the dead, it’s probably a smoke screen because they have no fresh ideas of their own.  The final legacy of the dead is what we all face.  Death.  Not something we should want as current public policy.

We don’t care about legacy.  We care about the future.  The vision of those gone before is a vision that is past.  Our time is now.  Don’t let go of any precious minute, because you never know when yours will be over.

You want a legacy of Mike Collins and Jack Ford?  We say, let that be their legacy.  Live like you mean it, because before you know it, and without warning, you’ll be gone.

Legacy.

It’s a word being tossed around a lot lately in the world of City Politics.  And in our estimation, it is being completely misunderstood.

Folks in elected office talk about it to mean the history they leave behind when they leave office.  It indicates the public’s perception of their impact.  And elected officials work to shape it through their public works.

Spinning out of control

It can mean a landmark piece of legislation.  Or a structural change in the way politics is done.  Or perhaps the overall impact on a particular constituency, like children or the working poor.

As in, “Councilman Goodman’s legacy was as a fighter for the rights of working people.  She always had the interests of the middle class in mind as she made decisions.”

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Not all legacies are of the positive variety, of course.  An elected official hopes against hope not to leave a lasting impression of malfeasance or criminality.  “That Councilman Cheatham, what a swindler.”

Legacies can shift like the wind direction in City Politics.  Electeds try to spin and control their legacies, but sometimes it’s all to no avail.  Witness Mike Bell, who was the most beloved of all Toledoans until he backed the ill-fated, anti-collective bargaining initiative of the Kasich administration.  Now his legacy is as a one-term Toledo mayor who lost his re-election attempt by a double-digit percentage.  And who sold out to the Chinese with no return on the effort.

Bell is still lurking around the margins, of course.  Like most former electeds with a less-than-stellar legacy, he could try a comeback into office to set things on a better course.

Electeds don’t control their own legacy, of course, and not all are accurate.  Former Councilman Bob McCloskey was a fighter for the working class and for East Toledo. But his legacy was written by some envelopes of cash left on his chair at the Council dais.

Carty’s legacy is as someone who loved Toledo, maybe a little too much. But his passion was always for the betterment of our fair city.  In reality he’s more of a self-promoting chap with sociopathic tendencies.  That’s not his legacy, though.

Legacies can be carefully crafted.  As in, “Representative Pennypincher carefully scans every city budget to look for even tiny amounts to squeeze out in savings.  Maybe the fine Representative does so effectively, maybe not.  But what a fiscal hawk, that guy!”

Or they can spin out of control.  “Remember that ol’ School Board member T. Party?  He fancied himself a fiscal conservative, which led to the closing of schools and the overcrowding of those that remained. Boy, did that guy hate kids, or what?”

While electeds are still in office, they can try their best to craft their legacies and rehabilitate them as needed.  While former electeds are still alive, they can do the same, either by running for office again or by using public and media appearances to tell and retell their story.  Legacy is still always subject to the will of the people, but while they’re still kicking, electeds and formers can work to spin the yarn.

Times of future passed

The spinning gets truly twisted after an elected official dies.

Immediately the legacy card gets played, and within minutes the hucksters and saint-makers start their work.  It’s particularly easy to love someone who has shuffled off this mortal coil, and all mistakes and personal foibles are quickly erased and forgotten.

Once they’re gone, the legacy is written by others.  A full-blown human being, with ambition and lofty ideals and all-too-human blemishes, becomes a cardboard cutout, subject to the whims and needs of those left behind.

We hear a lot lately about wanting to fulfill the legacy of the deceased.  Never mind that you can’t “fulfill” a legacy, because a legacy is something from the past.  You shouldn’t want it carried on, either, for the same reason.  Legacies should be created anew.  Legacies are unique to each individual.  

Instead, they are being used as mythology.  Folks with unnatural amounts of personal ambition try to use the mythical legacy of others in cartoonish ways to fulfill their own grasping needs.

Don’t let ‘em do it to ya, folks.  If they say they want to fulfill or carry on the legacy of the dead, it’s probably a smoke screen because they have no fresh ideas of their own.  The final legacy of the dead is what we all face.  Death.  Not something we should want as current public policy.

We don’t care about legacy.  We care about the future.  The vision of those gone before is a vision that is past.  Our time is now.  Don’t let go of any precious minute, because you never know when yours will be over.

You want a legacy of Mike Collins and Jack Ford?  We say, let that be their legacy.  Live like you mean it, because before you know it, and without warning, you’ll be gone.

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