An Open Letter to Shasta County

Dear Shasta County, 

Once upon a time, I left this town. I drove south to San Francisco to attend college, fiercely determined to never return again. 

Fast forward a bunch of years, and I landed right back where I came from. For better or worse, this has once again become my home. It's the place where I live, work, and raise my kids. You have grown on me, Shasta County. In spite of my liberal political leanings I've felt welcome here. I've found great schools for my kids, a church that supports me and my family in our faith walk and I've gathered a stellar collection of friends that help sustain this "blue" citizen, deep in the heart of "red" country. 

And today I've reached my boiling point. After leading our county through the most extreme public health crisis in modern history, our Board of Supervisors has chosen to terminate our Public Health Officer, Dr. Karen Ramstrom "without cause." 

Yes, technically she's an "at will" employee with no guarantee of employment. And yet, any competent HR professional or attorney will tell you, you don't go around letting people go without cause....because if you do....they will most certainly find some illegal reason for your action. And promptly take you to court to prove their point. 

And also, it's just common decency. You don't just up and fire people because you feel like it. Grow up! 

So why, exactly was Dr. Ramstrom let go? 

Could it be because she is a woman? 

Or because she's over 40? 

Or perhaps because she's a Veteran? 

Let's hope it wasn't any of those things because those are protected classes, which would actually make your actions illegal. Awkward! Not to mention expensive. 

So maybe it's because she did a crappy job during the pandemic? Is that it? 

Did she shut down businesses during COVID? 

Did she mandate vaccines? 

Did she enforce public masking requirements with a heavy hand? 

Did she fail to keep the public informed about COVID risks? 

Nope? None of that? Hmm. 

Did she work hard to balance the needs of business owners with her obligation to protect public health and safety? 

Did she patiently, oh so patiently, listen to all the concerns, fears, mis-information, and conspiracy theories and seek to find common ground with the full 50% of our county who are not yet ready for vaccines? 

Did she partner with schools, correctional facilities, hospitals and healthcare centers to manage risk using widely accepted practices such as masks, contact tracing, social distancing and encouraging vaccines? 

Did she follow CA state mandates as she is required to do as the Health Officer?

Yes? All of that? Well. Isn't that interesting. 

So, maybe the BOS just decided to get rid of her because they can. Maybe they just took that "at will" clause and used it to their advantage because they had an itchy trigger finger and three solid votes. 

I can just hear the hamster wheels in their heads spinning now..."There! That will show them we mean business about taking back Shasta County."

Here's what it also shows...

It shows our public servants they should make no assumptions about job security. (This should be really great for employee morale, recruitment and retention)

It shows our community that the BOS is beholden to a vocal and misinformed minority and will act without regard for the potentially significant legal and financial repercussions. (While I am not shocked by this decision given the culture of our current BOS, I will be shocked if it doesn't wind up in court)

It shows that there are a lot of people in this town who are angry and barking up the entirely wrong tree. (Government 101: State laws preempt local ordinances)

I would like to believe we are better than this, Shasta County. I would like to believe that the asphalt cowboys, the bay area transplants, the ranchers, the college professors and everyone in between can find their place here. I want to believe that we're all different but can peacefully co-exist, engage in respectful dialogue and debate, and feel at home. I want to believe that our collective health is a valuable asset, worth protecting with the best tools that science can provide for us. 

That's what I want to believe. 

Tonight I believe a lot of things that are contrary to all of that. I won't put them into words here because that is not the Shasta County that I hope for. That is the Shasta County that I pray over. 

Tomorrow, I'll find more hope. But for tonight, I'll stew in my frustration and see what fruits it may bear. 

I sure hope that the next brand of cancer, food-borne illness, sexually transmitted disease, birth defect, addiction, flu, mental illness or natural disaster is met with a Public Health Department fully staffed with capable, compassionate leaders of the same caliber as Dr. Ramstrom. For all of us, I hope for this to be true. We're in this together, for better or worse.  

Sincerely, 

Amy Cavalleri

PS...What do we do? If you're disappointed with Dr. Ramstrom's dismissal, here are some positive outlets for your frustration: 

1. Many county employees are emotionally rocked by this dismissal. If you have friends who work in county offices, take a minute to reach out to see how they are doing and offer a few kind words of support. 

2. These 3 Supervisors voted in support of this decision. Let them know how you feel about it:
Les Baugh: lbaugh@co.shasta.ca.us 

Patrick Jones: pjones@co.shasta.ca.us 

Tim Garman: tgarman@co.shasta.ca.us

3. These 2 Supervisors voted against terminating Dr. Ramstrom. Give them a high five, and a word of encouragement: 

Mary Rickert: mrickert@co.shasta.ca.us

Joe Chimenti: jchimenti@co.shasta.ca.us

4. Check out the candidates for the June 7 election.  Click here. and then click "Candidate Information" for a dropdown list of local offices that are up for election. Take some quality time to read the candidate statements so you are informed and ready to VOTE on June 7. 

Hats Off to the Grant Writers!

There truly is a day for everything, and today is International Grant Professionals Day! I'm not typically a braggart (Wordle victories aside...) but since there's a day for it, here goes. My career is a bit of a menagerie of many different things, but grant writing is a big piece of it. I've been doing grant writing here and there for many years, and more intensely over the past 6 years. My running, 6-year total is just under $6 million raised for all kinds of great causes like children's literacy, wilderness stewardship, healthcare for the underserved, community mental health and wellness, homeless youth, and education.

I look at this work as a combination of matchmaker, author and dreamer. It is at times hugely rewarding, and at times breathtakingly disappointing. The most deserving projects often get overlooked. There is never enough money to go around. You can pour your soul into a grant application for weeks only to have it rejected for reasons you may never understand. On the other hand there are the victories. There are free books for kids that need them. There's new technology for local classrooms. There are programs offering health, hope and healing for people nearly destroyed by war, trauma, violence, or disease. There's affordable housing for people who desperately need it.

I have come to understand this work as more art than science. Sometimes the results don't add up. Every funder is different in how they evaluate grant applications and what values and priorities they hold sacred. Sometimes success is more about who you know than what you know. The financial reward is often not proportional to the effort needed for a successful application. There are variables and strategies and timing to consider on top of the very basics of crafting the actual grant application.

It's a bit of a tricky business.

I often think that this kind of job wouldn't exist in a perfect world. Wouldn't it be great if all the important causes didn't need to jump through complicated hoops to get the funding they need to make the world a better place? But, until that day, I'll be slinging words and weaving stories in this heartbreaking/heart-filling hustle.

Braiding Connection Through Books

For as long as I can remember, I've been a lover of books. One of the first books that I remember falling in love with was Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb. This rhythmic, repetitive ditty of a book featured prancing monkeys drumming on drums. What's not to love?! 

As I got older my literary interests wandered to the Sweet Valley High series (mindless pre-teen lit that I could devour in a day or two), to classics like Island of the Blue Dolphins and The Princess Bride. 

For the past 14 years, I've been participating in a book club that has kept me actively reading through the parenting years when it's tricky to make time for anything not kid-related. In the early book club years, I would occasionally get annoyed with the book choices. Being obligated to read a book chosen by someone else that didn't spark my interest occasionally seemed like a special kind of torture. But over the years I have learned to approach each book choice with a more open mind. Mostly I'm able to appreciate the book choices even if they aren't books I would have necessarily chosen to read on my own. Occasionally there was a flop....but not often. 

This past year a book club friend recommended the book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. At the time we had a long lineup of books already chosen for book club, but this book had made such an impression on her that she strongly encouraged all of us to read it immediately. Her review was enthusiastic enough for met to borrow the book from a friend and read it in between "official" book club books. 

When I first picked up the book, I honestly wasn't super intrigued. A nature book, over 400 pages long, written by a scientist.  I dunno. Didn't strike me as a real page turner. 

But I forged ahead, encouraged by the rave review of my book club friend. 

And as I read, I was drawn in. 

The writing is intelligent and beautiful. Thoughtful and lyrical. Educational and soothing. Kimmerer somehow combines the smarts and attention to detail of a scientist, with the creativity and intrigue of a master storyteller. 

It was one of the last books that my mom read. I don't think she actually finished it, because when she died, her bookmark was still planted somewhere near the middle. (Ironically, a bookmark with a quote from PJ O'Rourke: "Always read something that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.")

After my mom died, her copy of Braiding Sweetgrass became mine. Having an actual hard copy of this book that I fell in love with was a bit of a novelty since the majority of my reading these days is on my kindle. And when I opened it up to see that my mom had underlined and made sporadic notes in the book, it became even more of a treasure for me. 

I started re-reading the book again a few months ago, this time using the copy that had belonged to my mom. As I worked through the book for the second time, the stories that Kimmerer shared became not only a bridge of understanding between me and the natural world, but also between me and my mom. This book, both its physical form and its literary content, brought me a beautiful feeling of connection, months after my mom had left this earth. 

My mom was my first teacher. The one who taught me the basics of reading as a child, and nurtured my love of books as an adult by  inviting me to join her book club. I never expected her to live forever. But that knowledge is sorry preparation for the void of her absence. 

For me, one of the more poignant chapters in Braiding Sweetgrass is "The Consolation of Water Lilies" in which Kimmerer reflects on the journey of parenting and describes the bittersweet experience of dropping her daughter off at college. I remember saying goodbye to my own mother at SFSU 30 years ago, oblivious to the wave of emotion she undoubtedly navigated as she drove away from my dorm. Kimmerer reminds us of the eternal truth of parenting "...if we do our jobs well, the deepest bond we are given will walk out the door."

The presence of children, mothers, and so many other gifts of living this imperfect, human existence, is temporary. These words by Kimmerer, underlined by my mom, bring some solace for this truth:

"We are showered every day with gifts, but they are not meant for us to keep. Their life is in their movement, the inhale and the exhale of our shared breath. Our work and our joy is to pass along the gift and to trust that what we put out into the universe will always come back."

-Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer