Rod Cleveland, a 40-year-old Norman Republican, outdistanced his Democratic opponent by more than 1,600 votes to capture the Cleveland County District 1 Commission seat Tuesday evening.
With all 33 precincts reported, Cleveland earned 2,032 votes to Newalla resident James Earp’s 375 — about 84 percent of the vote.
Cleveland said he was “ecstatic” by the results
“It’s great to see the number of people who turned out,” he said. “I’m pleased that the people who voted for me in the primary turned out to vote again this time. I’m glad to see our get-out-the-vote effort worked again this time.”
Cleveland said he was thankful county Republicans “honored him” with the nomination and added he was “very proud” to be the county’s newest commissioner.
“I look forward to working with Rusty and George,” he said “They are great guys.”
With Cleveland’s election, the commission remains an all-Republican body.
While he was disappointed by the results 49-year-old Democrat James Earp said he had no regrets about the race.
“I fell like I ran a good campaign,” he said. “I still believe I’m the best qualified candidate; but I respect the voters of Cleveland County.”
Earp, making his first race for public office, said the campaign “was very educational” and taught him a great deal about government.
“I talked to more than 2,000 people,” he said. “I wore out a pair of dress shoes, but I learned a lot.”
With about 50,000 registered voters, commission District 1 is considered a “heavily Republican” district; more than 27,000 voters are registered as Republicans, while 17,740 are Democrats. 5,470 are registered as Independent.
“I knew it was going to be tough,” Earp said. “But, really, I have no regrets.”
And while Earp said he was surprised by the small Democratic turnout, he didn’t rule out another run for office.
“Yeah, we pretty much got spanked in this race,” he said. “But I’m not going to rule out another try.”
Cleveland said he would move quickly to educate himself about county issues.
“I’m going to work to get caught up with the issues,” he said. “The good thing is, right now, it’s summertime and it’s kinda’ slower. That gives me time to catch up. I want to help make this county better than it already is.”
Cleveland replaces interim commissioner Mark Meyer — former commissioner Bill Graves’ first deputy. Meyer has served as the interim commissioner since Graves’ death in early April following complications from surgery.
Cleveland will serve the remainder of Graves’ term and be paid $76,367 annually.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
COMMENTARY: If you didn't vote, don't bitch
For the past several months, members of the Cleveland County Commission have struggled with the issue of whether or not to build a county jail.
They’ve also gone back and forth on where that jail is supposed to be located.
This, because the current jail is overcrowded and State Health Department officials are breathing down our necks threatening large daily fines or, even worse, closing the facility.
A couple of months ago, more than 50 citizens attended a county commission meeting to “voice their opinion” about where the jail should be located.
Some said downtown Norman.
Others said Franklin Road.
Nobody was happy.
Now, fast forward to June.
A special election for County Commissioner — you know, the same guys who decide where the jail is going to be located — is scheduled.
And less than 3,000 of the 28,000 registered Republican voters bothered to show up.
Less than 100 mail-in absentee ballots were returned.
And only about 20 of you bothered to vote early at the election board.
I’m disappointed.
Though I am proud of the handful (read that literally) of you who went to the polls — good work. But for the rest of you — those 25,000 who sat around on their collective butts and didn’t even bother to go to the polls — you guys should be ashamed.
And, yes, the rest of this column is focused directly on you.
You’ll be the first one in line to complain about the jail or whatever county proposal in on the agenda, but you don’t have enough energy to go vote.
You’ll want to whine.
You’ll stand and shout at the rain and tell the rest of us how bad government is.
But you don’t do anything to change it.
You don’t participate.
You don’t vote.
Give me a break.
Consider this: While you of the couch potato variety are solidifying in front of your television, a bunch of tired, hungry — but very loyal — servicemen and women are across the globe fighting to bring peace and civility to war-torn Iraq.
And part of civility is being able to chose who will serve as the country’s elected leader.
But voting in Iraq isn’t easy.
Hell, to vote over there, you have to dodge the automatic weapon fire and avoid the well dressed suicide bomber.
Here in American, you have to turn off the television, get off you ass and go.
As I was writing this column, a few people were going to the polls to pick a new District 1 commissioner. God love ’em.
But I guarantee you there will only be a few. I promise you the number of voters who voted Tuesday will be small.
If I had my way, you’d get a stamped card when you voted. And those people with the card would pay less in taxes, get free stuff and get to help make the decisions about what government was doing.
The rest would just have to suffer.
Because democracy only works when people participate.
And 3,000 people out of 28,000 doesn’t make a quorum.
So if you didn’t vote, you can’t complain. If you didn’t bother to go to the polls, don’t send me a letter about how bad the government is; don’t bother to call, either.
You opted out.
You took the easy way.
And in American, the game of government can only be played by those with an “A” game.
If you want to make things better you have to roll up your sleeves and, in the words of Larry the Cable guy, “git-r-done!”
Until then, you’re just another whining couch potato.
They’ve also gone back and forth on where that jail is supposed to be located.
This, because the current jail is overcrowded and State Health Department officials are breathing down our necks threatening large daily fines or, even worse, closing the facility.
A couple of months ago, more than 50 citizens attended a county commission meeting to “voice their opinion” about where the jail should be located.
Some said downtown Norman.
Others said Franklin Road.
Nobody was happy.
Now, fast forward to June.
A special election for County Commissioner — you know, the same guys who decide where the jail is going to be located — is scheduled.
And less than 3,000 of the 28,000 registered Republican voters bothered to show up.
Less than 100 mail-in absentee ballots were returned.
And only about 20 of you bothered to vote early at the election board.
I’m disappointed.
Though I am proud of the handful (read that literally) of you who went to the polls — good work. But for the rest of you — those 25,000 who sat around on their collective butts and didn’t even bother to go to the polls — you guys should be ashamed.
And, yes, the rest of this column is focused directly on you.
You’ll be the first one in line to complain about the jail or whatever county proposal in on the agenda, but you don’t have enough energy to go vote.
You’ll want to whine.
You’ll stand and shout at the rain and tell the rest of us how bad government is.
But you don’t do anything to change it.
You don’t participate.
You don’t vote.
Give me a break.
Consider this: While you of the couch potato variety are solidifying in front of your television, a bunch of tired, hungry — but very loyal — servicemen and women are across the globe fighting to bring peace and civility to war-torn Iraq.
And part of civility is being able to chose who will serve as the country’s elected leader.
But voting in Iraq isn’t easy.
Hell, to vote over there, you have to dodge the automatic weapon fire and avoid the well dressed suicide bomber.
Here in American, you have to turn off the television, get off you ass and go.
As I was writing this column, a few people were going to the polls to pick a new District 1 commissioner. God love ’em.
But I guarantee you there will only be a few. I promise you the number of voters who voted Tuesday will be small.
If I had my way, you’d get a stamped card when you voted. And those people with the card would pay less in taxes, get free stuff and get to help make the decisions about what government was doing.
The rest would just have to suffer.
Because democracy only works when people participate.
And 3,000 people out of 28,000 doesn’t make a quorum.
So if you didn’t vote, you can’t complain. If you didn’t bother to go to the polls, don’t send me a letter about how bad the government is; don’t bother to call, either.
You opted out.
You took the easy way.
And in American, the game of government can only be played by those with an “A” game.
If you want to make things better you have to roll up your sleeves and, in the words of Larry the Cable guy, “git-r-done!”
Until then, you’re just another whining couch potato.
Honor, courage remembered by Bryant family
They mark a soldier.
They represent the accomplishments, the wounds and the careers of those who serve in the U.S. armed forces.
They are awarded for bravery.
Or for service.
Or even for being a good shot.
You’ll find them — polished and shiny — on the breasts of four-star generals or admirals, even the surgeon general.
They also rest on the uniform of a still, fallen soldier.
They tell the story of a military life.
They are military ribbons and medals.
And the best of them are made in Moore.
nnn
Joe Bryant’s career in military medals and ribbons didn’t begin until his first career — that of being a 1st sergeant in the Air Force — began to end.
In fact, the whole concept for his ribbon set design was developed because he needed to solve a problem.
“Originally, a set of military ribbons were heavy, thick and they never did line up properly,” Bryant said. “The whole reason I started was because I went to a board of review.”
Stationed in Germany, Bryant was set to appear before a military board of review. To make sure he looked his best, Bryant detoured to a restroom where, “somewhere between the restroom and the board office, one of my ribbons slid off.”
It was at that point, Bryant said, that he knew there had to be a better way for the solider to wear his ribbons and medals and “look perfect” while doing it.
So Bryant went home and created a “newer and better way” to mount the nation’s military ribbons and medals.
“I did it strictly for myself, I wanted the set to be consistent, perfect. So I constructed them as a single unit.”
He succeeded.
Two years later, Bryant’s idea, along with a lightweight frame, helped him cut the ribbon’s weight by 90 percent and its thickness by 75 percent. It also kept the ribbons aligned perfectly straight.
Word spread quickly.
“As soon as I wore it, the guy in the office next to me says he has to have a set,” he said. “So I told him to go to the exchange and buy his ribbons and bring them and beer to my house and we’d make it work. And that’s what I did.”
Soon Bryant had more work than he could handle. He recruited his 11-year-old son, Jonathan, who sat next to him “and cut the strips.”
And for a while, the pair had their own, unique small business.
Fate changed things.
Reassigned to Oklahoma City’s Tinker Air Force, in mid-1986 the Bryants would discover their small business had developed a global appeal.
“When we left Germany, people started to ask how to get hold of me,” he said. “They said, ‘You’ve made my ribbons over here for a couple of years and now you’re not here anymore. We find you — how do we make an order?’”
At that point, Bryant’s custom ribbon hobby became a business.
“Obviously people could not bring their ribbons and me a beer and come to my house,” he said. “So I developed an order form and actually set a price down. That’s when we officially became a business.”
Word continued to spread.
The company’s blue-colored order forms were never returned. Instead, the form was photocopied — now white — and returned, from across the globe.
“Since it was brand new, no one else was doing such a thing. It was total word of mouth for the first 15 years. We didn’t do any advertising.”
But the military — like many other professions — recognizes and embraces precision work.
And the Bryants had set a new standard.
•
Steeped in history, military ribbons, badges and medals have been worn since the Revolutionary War. In fact, according to the U.S. Army’s Institute of Heraldry, the first badges were used to identify troops under a specific general’s command.
During the Civil War, General Philip Kearny mistook some officers for stragglers from his own command and when corrected, said he would “take steps to know how to recognize my own men hereafter.”
Using pieces of red cloth placed on his soldiers’ caps, Kearny could quickly identify his own troops.
His idea was quickly adopted and by the end of the Civil War, almost all the corps had “some type of identifying mark.”
But the medals, badges and ribbons are more than just marks.
They also represent the solider’s career and their life, Jonathan Bryant said.
“The ribbons tell the soldier’s story; their accomplishments, their wounds. They represent that soldier’s history.”
As he makes his point, the younger Bryant rubs his fingers over a tiny, brass World War II trench lighter. Engraved in script on the lighter are the initials, “TFH.”
“It’s a symbol of the war he fought and the horrors he saw,” Jonathan said. “It’s a symbol of the humans involved in the military.”
•
Jonathan Bryant didn’t do much on the Fourth of July.
On this Independence Day holiday, Bryant traveled to another city to be with his family, seeking solace and spending time with his loved ones.
“I’m looking for some peace and quiet,” he said.
Back at home his father, Joe, went to work.
His home grow business is now a global enterprize; today Ultra Thin Ribbon and Medal Company represents every branch of the armed services, the Coast Guard, the Public Health Service and even the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
No, Joe Bryant wasn’t popping fireworks either.
He spent the holiday checking computer databases for the upcoming orders of ribbons and medals.
“I’m not much into holidays,” he says. “Except Veterans Day and Memorial Day. The Fourth of July is a celebration for everyone else. But me, I plan on working.”
Because somewhere, there’s a solider who earned a ribbon.
They represent the accomplishments, the wounds and the careers of those who serve in the U.S. armed forces.
They are awarded for bravery.
Or for service.
Or even for being a good shot.
You’ll find them — polished and shiny — on the breasts of four-star generals or admirals, even the surgeon general.
They also rest on the uniform of a still, fallen soldier.
They tell the story of a military life.
They are military ribbons and medals.
And the best of them are made in Moore.
nnn
Joe Bryant’s career in military medals and ribbons didn’t begin until his first career — that of being a 1st sergeant in the Air Force — began to end.
In fact, the whole concept for his ribbon set design was developed because he needed to solve a problem.
“Originally, a set of military ribbons were heavy, thick and they never did line up properly,” Bryant said. “The whole reason I started was because I went to a board of review.”
Stationed in Germany, Bryant was set to appear before a military board of review. To make sure he looked his best, Bryant detoured to a restroom where, “somewhere between the restroom and the board office, one of my ribbons slid off.”
It was at that point, Bryant said, that he knew there had to be a better way for the solider to wear his ribbons and medals and “look perfect” while doing it.
So Bryant went home and created a “newer and better way” to mount the nation’s military ribbons and medals.
“I did it strictly for myself, I wanted the set to be consistent, perfect. So I constructed them as a single unit.”
He succeeded.
Two years later, Bryant’s idea, along with a lightweight frame, helped him cut the ribbon’s weight by 90 percent and its thickness by 75 percent. It also kept the ribbons aligned perfectly straight.
Word spread quickly.
“As soon as I wore it, the guy in the office next to me says he has to have a set,” he said. “So I told him to go to the exchange and buy his ribbons and bring them and beer to my house and we’d make it work. And that’s what I did.”
Soon Bryant had more work than he could handle. He recruited his 11-year-old son, Jonathan, who sat next to him “and cut the strips.”
And for a while, the pair had their own, unique small business.
Fate changed things.
Reassigned to Oklahoma City’s Tinker Air Force, in mid-1986 the Bryants would discover their small business had developed a global appeal.
“When we left Germany, people started to ask how to get hold of me,” he said. “They said, ‘You’ve made my ribbons over here for a couple of years and now you’re not here anymore. We find you — how do we make an order?’”
At that point, Bryant’s custom ribbon hobby became a business.
“Obviously people could not bring their ribbons and me a beer and come to my house,” he said. “So I developed an order form and actually set a price down. That’s when we officially became a business.”
Word continued to spread.
The company’s blue-colored order forms were never returned. Instead, the form was photocopied — now white — and returned, from across the globe.
“Since it was brand new, no one else was doing such a thing. It was total word of mouth for the first 15 years. We didn’t do any advertising.”
But the military — like many other professions — recognizes and embraces precision work.
And the Bryants had set a new standard.
•
Steeped in history, military ribbons, badges and medals have been worn since the Revolutionary War. In fact, according to the U.S. Army’s Institute of Heraldry, the first badges were used to identify troops under a specific general’s command.
During the Civil War, General Philip Kearny mistook some officers for stragglers from his own command and when corrected, said he would “take steps to know how to recognize my own men hereafter.”
Using pieces of red cloth placed on his soldiers’ caps, Kearny could quickly identify his own troops.
His idea was quickly adopted and by the end of the Civil War, almost all the corps had “some type of identifying mark.”
But the medals, badges and ribbons are more than just marks.
They also represent the solider’s career and their life, Jonathan Bryant said.
“The ribbons tell the soldier’s story; their accomplishments, their wounds. They represent that soldier’s history.”
As he makes his point, the younger Bryant rubs his fingers over a tiny, brass World War II trench lighter. Engraved in script on the lighter are the initials, “TFH.”
“It’s a symbol of the war he fought and the horrors he saw,” Jonathan said. “It’s a symbol of the humans involved in the military.”
•
Jonathan Bryant didn’t do much on the Fourth of July.
On this Independence Day holiday, Bryant traveled to another city to be with his family, seeking solace and spending time with his loved ones.
“I’m looking for some peace and quiet,” he said.
Back at home his father, Joe, went to work.
His home grow business is now a global enterprize; today Ultra Thin Ribbon and Medal Company represents every branch of the armed services, the Coast Guard, the Public Health Service and even the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
No, Joe Bryant wasn’t popping fireworks either.
He spent the holiday checking computer databases for the upcoming orders of ribbons and medals.
“I’m not much into holidays,” he says. “Except Veterans Day and Memorial Day. The Fourth of July is a celebration for everyone else. But me, I plan on working.”
Because somewhere, there’s a solider who earned a ribbon.
Friday, July 6, 2007
COMMENTARY: Treading Water
Outside, the sky is slate gray — like old metal.
The rain falls steady; a liquid, translucent curtain distorting the world I see through the window.
It’s 9 a.m. I’m sitting inside a creamy yellow waiting room with my wife and our 8-year-old son.
The nurse enters and seats herself at a computer console. Large flat screen monitors surround me. I feel like I’m at NASA.
My wife is lying prone next to the machine.
The nurse takes a probe, slathers conductive jelly on it, and pushes it against Karen’s large, round belly.
We’re here to see images of the newest member of the Carter family. He’s currently under construction deep inside my wife’s womb.
The flat screen monitor at the end of the rooms flicks on and suddenly the screen is filled with grainy, black and white images — they remind me of those radar screens used in submarine movies.
There, I see my child.
He’s (for right now its a “he”) is in his fourth month. The images show his profile, his tiny feet, hands and his face.
I watch him hiccup; then suck his thumb.
Outside the rain falls.
Karen smiles. She places her had on the side of her belly as we see more images of this, our fourth child.
Clay shuffles his feet, he wants to know if its a boy or a girl.
The nurse stops.
She’s trying to get an image of the baby’s heart. She mutters to herself and then asks Karen to turn.
Again, the images on the screen changes. I see a heart. I see beating. The nurse frowns. “I need to get the doctor,” she says.
She leaves the room.
Karen looks at me, her smile fades.
About 10 minutes later, the doctor comes in and seats himself at the ultrasound machine. Again the probe is pushed against Karen’s skin. Again, the images appear on the screen.
“Ahhh…” he pauses.
“There’s…” another unfinished sentence.
Finally, he speaks. “There’s a defect in the heart,” he says. “It’s not…”
The room begins to spin.
I watch my wife’s beautiful face twist in agony. Tears cascade down her soft cheeks like small rivers.
The doctor continues to ramble, something about a protein string. Then, something about high risk. Something about the heart being on the wrong side.
I stopped listening at “heart defect.”
He mentions the possibility of terminating the pregnancy.
My guts twist. Terminating the pregnancy? I just watched my child suck his thumb.
Beside me, Karen sobs.
Clay lays his head against her chest.
The rain continues to fall.
At some point we stand. Karen wipes the blue jelly off her, like she’s trying to remove all traces of ultrasound. The doctors pushes a business card in my hand and tells me to call if we have questions.
We’re ushered out of the office, through a different exit. We don’t even stop to pay. I guess doctors don’t want their other patients to witness the results of pain and fear.
I feel the warmth of Karen’s hand as we walk toward the car. She’s silent. Clay walks in step with her. She cries again and tears mix with the rain on her soft face.
The drive home is surreal — no conversation. No discussion. Just an all encompassing feeling of dread and death.
The car’s windows reflect the light like melted glass, my world is distorted.
I know, now, what it feels like to drown.
At home, Karen lies on the bed and quietly weeps. She tells me she wants to find a rock and hide. She is overcome with fear and grief.
I touch her face and, for some strange reason, I feel guilty.
But God and small babies have plans of their own — agreements made by both that neither I, nor my wife, are privy to.
Karen drifts off to sleep, her face streaked with tears and mascara. I pull the comforter up over her. I go to work and try to focus on the world of journalism for just a few hours.
We talk several times that day via telephone. I can hear the anguish in her voice.
And still, it rains.
Wednesday we’re back, again, in the same office. This time Karen is focused, armed with questions. Inside her the baby moves. She feels him stretch.
We discover quickly just how much the doctor doesn’t know. There is some defect. In the heart. That’s about all he can tell us. But that’s enough to take our joy of a new child and shatter it into a millions of rain-soaked pieces.
The rest is unknown — for now.
There is some comfort: The doctor says the defect can be corrected with surgery.
He didn’t say that last time.
Heart surgery on a newborn. Karen touches her belly. The doctor leaves.
Privately, we both talk to God.
This time, we exit the “regular” exit. Karen writes a check, and for the first time in 48 hours, smiles.
She tells me things will be OK. She tells me she’s tired of being afraid. This time she holds back the tears welling in the corner of her large, brown eyes.
More rain — it feels warm.
I look toward the sky and ask God to look after my wife. The rain splashes on my shirt. Droplets cover my glasses. A tiny spot of blue sky appears.
Hope.
“Small babies and God have their own plans,” I think to myself.
That maybe so, but right now, at this very moment, we are simply treading water.
The rain falls steady; a liquid, translucent curtain distorting the world I see through the window.
It’s 9 a.m. I’m sitting inside a creamy yellow waiting room with my wife and our 8-year-old son.
The nurse enters and seats herself at a computer console. Large flat screen monitors surround me. I feel like I’m at NASA.
My wife is lying prone next to the machine.
The nurse takes a probe, slathers conductive jelly on it, and pushes it against Karen’s large, round belly.
We’re here to see images of the newest member of the Carter family. He’s currently under construction deep inside my wife’s womb.
The flat screen monitor at the end of the rooms flicks on and suddenly the screen is filled with grainy, black and white images — they remind me of those radar screens used in submarine movies.
There, I see my child.
He’s (for right now its a “he”) is in his fourth month. The images show his profile, his tiny feet, hands and his face.
I watch him hiccup; then suck his thumb.
Outside the rain falls.
Karen smiles. She places her had on the side of her belly as we see more images of this, our fourth child.
Clay shuffles his feet, he wants to know if its a boy or a girl.
The nurse stops.
She’s trying to get an image of the baby’s heart. She mutters to herself and then asks Karen to turn.
Again, the images on the screen changes. I see a heart. I see beating. The nurse frowns. “I need to get the doctor,” she says.
She leaves the room.
Karen looks at me, her smile fades.
About 10 minutes later, the doctor comes in and seats himself at the ultrasound machine. Again the probe is pushed against Karen’s skin. Again, the images appear on the screen.
“Ahhh…” he pauses.
“There’s…” another unfinished sentence.
Finally, he speaks. “There’s a defect in the heart,” he says. “It’s not…”
The room begins to spin.
I watch my wife’s beautiful face twist in agony. Tears cascade down her soft cheeks like small rivers.
The doctor continues to ramble, something about a protein string. Then, something about high risk. Something about the heart being on the wrong side.
I stopped listening at “heart defect.”
He mentions the possibility of terminating the pregnancy.
My guts twist. Terminating the pregnancy? I just watched my child suck his thumb.
Beside me, Karen sobs.
Clay lays his head against her chest.
The rain continues to fall.
At some point we stand. Karen wipes the blue jelly off her, like she’s trying to remove all traces of ultrasound. The doctors pushes a business card in my hand and tells me to call if we have questions.
We’re ushered out of the office, through a different exit. We don’t even stop to pay. I guess doctors don’t want their other patients to witness the results of pain and fear.
I feel the warmth of Karen’s hand as we walk toward the car. She’s silent. Clay walks in step with her. She cries again and tears mix with the rain on her soft face.
The drive home is surreal — no conversation. No discussion. Just an all encompassing feeling of dread and death.
The car’s windows reflect the light like melted glass, my world is distorted.
I know, now, what it feels like to drown.
At home, Karen lies on the bed and quietly weeps. She tells me she wants to find a rock and hide. She is overcome with fear and grief.
I touch her face and, for some strange reason, I feel guilty.
But God and small babies have plans of their own — agreements made by both that neither I, nor my wife, are privy to.
Karen drifts off to sleep, her face streaked with tears and mascara. I pull the comforter up over her. I go to work and try to focus on the world of journalism for just a few hours.
We talk several times that day via telephone. I can hear the anguish in her voice.
And still, it rains.
Wednesday we’re back, again, in the same office. This time Karen is focused, armed with questions. Inside her the baby moves. She feels him stretch.
We discover quickly just how much the doctor doesn’t know. There is some defect. In the heart. That’s about all he can tell us. But that’s enough to take our joy of a new child and shatter it into a millions of rain-soaked pieces.
The rest is unknown — for now.
There is some comfort: The doctor says the defect can be corrected with surgery.
He didn’t say that last time.
Heart surgery on a newborn. Karen touches her belly. The doctor leaves.
Privately, we both talk to God.
This time, we exit the “regular” exit. Karen writes a check, and for the first time in 48 hours, smiles.
She tells me things will be OK. She tells me she’s tired of being afraid. This time she holds back the tears welling in the corner of her large, brown eyes.
More rain — it feels warm.
I look toward the sky and ask God to look after my wife. The rain splashes on my shirt. Droplets cover my glasses. A tiny spot of blue sky appears.
Hope.
“Small babies and God have their own plans,” I think to myself.
That maybe so, but right now, at this very moment, we are simply treading water.
Two seek County Commission post
About 50,000 registered voters will have the opportunity next Tuesday to choose a new commissioner for Cleveland County’s District 1 seat.
The position became vacant following the death this spring of long-serving commissioner, Bill Graves. Graves died in April from complications following surgery.
On July 10, voters will chose between Newalla Democrat James Earp and Norman Republican Rod Cleveland.
Polls will be open 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Tuesday. Absentee-in-person balloting will take place beginning Friday and again Monday. Those absentee ballots, Cleveland County Election Board Secretary Paula Roberts said, must be cast at the county election board office, 122 S. Peters Ave., in Norman. Roberts said the office will be open 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.
“In person absentee voters fill out an application form when they arrive at the office,” Roberts said. “They are not required to state a reason for voting in-person absentee.”
However, Roberts said voters are required to swear they have not voted a “regular mail absentee ballot” and they will not vote and their polling place on election day.
County election board records show close to 50,000 registered voters in District 1; of that figure, 27,371 are Republicans, 17,740 Democrats and 5,470 registered as Independent.
And while the district is considered “heavily Republican” neither candidate is taking the race for granted.
GOP candidate Rod Cleveland, 40, said he has spent a majority of his campaign “walking, listening and taking notes.”
Cleveland defeated three other Republicans in a four-way primary in June.
“I had a message,” he said in early June. “I told the voters what I wanted to see Cleveland County be and become, and I think they received that message and rewarded me with the votes.”
In a glossy, four-color campaign handout Cleveland describes himself as “a Ronald Reagan conservative (who) has been a Republican precinct chairman for the past 12 years” and who has “helped elect conservatives for many years.”
James Earp is taking a different approach.
While Earp, 49, said he, too, would be campaigning “eyeball to eyeball” he described his first venture into area politics as a “low key” thing.
“I think you can better understand people face-to-face,” he said in an ealier story. “I want them to vote for me because they think I’m the right person for the job; not just because of name recognition. That’s why I’m walking door to door.”
Yet even with such controversial issues such as the location of a new county jail and the budget for county roads, Roberts remains concerned by the possibility of low voter turnout.
“Low turnout is always a concern,” she said. “We always want the voters to surprise us and turn out in large numbers.”
Come Tuesday evening, both the candidates and election board officials will know just how large those numbers will be.
The position became vacant following the death this spring of long-serving commissioner, Bill Graves. Graves died in April from complications following surgery.
On July 10, voters will chose between Newalla Democrat James Earp and Norman Republican Rod Cleveland.
Polls will be open 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Tuesday. Absentee-in-person balloting will take place beginning Friday and again Monday. Those absentee ballots, Cleveland County Election Board Secretary Paula Roberts said, must be cast at the county election board office, 122 S. Peters Ave., in Norman. Roberts said the office will be open 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.
“In person absentee voters fill out an application form when they arrive at the office,” Roberts said. “They are not required to state a reason for voting in-person absentee.”
However, Roberts said voters are required to swear they have not voted a “regular mail absentee ballot” and they will not vote and their polling place on election day.
County election board records show close to 50,000 registered voters in District 1; of that figure, 27,371 are Republicans, 17,740 Democrats and 5,470 registered as Independent.
And while the district is considered “heavily Republican” neither candidate is taking the race for granted.
GOP candidate Rod Cleveland, 40, said he has spent a majority of his campaign “walking, listening and taking notes.”
Cleveland defeated three other Republicans in a four-way primary in June.
“I had a message,” he said in early June. “I told the voters what I wanted to see Cleveland County be and become, and I think they received that message and rewarded me with the votes.”
In a glossy, four-color campaign handout Cleveland describes himself as “a Ronald Reagan conservative (who) has been a Republican precinct chairman for the past 12 years” and who has “helped elect conservatives for many years.”
James Earp is taking a different approach.
While Earp, 49, said he, too, would be campaigning “eyeball to eyeball” he described his first venture into area politics as a “low key” thing.
“I think you can better understand people face-to-face,” he said in an ealier story. “I want them to vote for me because they think I’m the right person for the job; not just because of name recognition. That’s why I’m walking door to door.”
Yet even with such controversial issues such as the location of a new county jail and the budget for county roads, Roberts remains concerned by the possibility of low voter turnout.
“Low turnout is always a concern,” she said. “We always want the voters to surprise us and turn out in large numbers.”
Come Tuesday evening, both the candidates and election board officials will know just how large those numbers will be.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Cleveland County GOP launches first Web site
Cleveland County's Republicans have gone high tech.
And they did it for low tech reasons.
For the first time in their history, the Cleveland County Republican Party has its own Internet Web site, county chairman Roger Warren said Thursday.
The site -- www.okgopcc.com -- went live on May 14.
"Our main reason to do it was simple," Warren said. "We needed to get Republican voters involved in the county party."
By doing that, he said, local party officials could "divorce the county party from national party politics."
And that, Warren said, would help better protect the local party from the voters' wrath when those voters disagree with national party actions.
"What happens is, politicians will do something on a national level that people disagree with," he said. "And then the voters take it out on us here at the county level, but our guys didn't do it."
Framed in red, white and blue, the Web site features eight sections, including a message from Warren, an enrollment form for volunteers, three separate calendars and links for news, trivia and other political sites.
"This is going to be our main form of communication," Warren said. "It's far cheaper than doing lots of mailings."
The site also offers links to state Republican headquarters.
"Since this is Cleveland County's first site, we wanted to make sure it was connected to the other GOP sites out there," he said.
To build the site, Warren turned to volunteers -- starting with his wife, Cleona.
After he and Cleona developed the idea, they approached the county party's executive committee for approval.
"When Roger was elected county chair, the county party was broke," Cleona Warren said. "And since we didn't have enough money to mail out a newsletter, we though of the Web site."
Once the Warrens received the committee's OK, the pair asked Moore resident Kevin Drury to create the site's design, structure and pages. Drury, who also works as a Web developer for the Oklahoma Department of Transportation, said he was happy to help.
"Roger, Cleona, and my family all go to the same church," Drury said. "And when Roger got elected as county chair, he approached me and asked me do the site. I'm a lifelong Republican, and I support them 100 percent, so I told them I would help."
It took the group about a month to wrap up the design.
"We began the process in April," Cleona Warren said. "We started a little bit at a time, then went through the approval process with the executive committee. On April 24, we got our domain name registered and since then, we've just really been building it."
For Drury the site is "kind of a work in progress."
"People are very positive," he said. "Folks will look at it and say, 'I'd like to see this.' We'll take input from anybody."
And while the site's traffic is slowly beginning to increase, Drury said an electronic fundraising component is already in the works.
"We have the beginnings of that out there now," he said. "Eventually we will set it up where folks can do donations through the Internet -- it just depends on the demand."
Both Warrens said with the volunteer labor and a small, $10 per month hosting fee, the new Web site offers Republicans a simple, cheap way to communicate. "It's the most cost-effective way we could think of," Warren said.
And it comes just as county Republicans are working to secure a third seat on the Cleveland County Board of Commissioners.
"We're trying to make people realize you can control local government if you get involved and go vote," Cleona Warren said. "And we want them to do something about it. School boards, city officials, county elected officials, that's what affects your immediate family."
The Cleveland County Web site is one of only a handful statewide, they said. At present, the state's main Republican site has links to GOP sites in Tulsa, Rogers, Oklahoma and Payne Counties.
"If we keep posting new info, and as long as we can keep making it change and update, I think people are going to want to go to it for information," Cleona Warren said. "It's the younger crowd that likes to surf the Internet."
And they did it for low tech reasons.
For the first time in their history, the Cleveland County Republican Party has its own Internet Web site, county chairman Roger Warren said Thursday.
The site -- www.okgopcc.com -- went live on May 14.
"Our main reason to do it was simple," Warren said. "We needed to get Republican voters involved in the county party."
By doing that, he said, local party officials could "divorce the county party from national party politics."
And that, Warren said, would help better protect the local party from the voters' wrath when those voters disagree with national party actions.
"What happens is, politicians will do something on a national level that people disagree with," he said. "And then the voters take it out on us here at the county level, but our guys didn't do it."
Framed in red, white and blue, the Web site features eight sections, including a message from Warren, an enrollment form for volunteers, three separate calendars and links for news, trivia and other political sites.
"This is going to be our main form of communication," Warren said. "It's far cheaper than doing lots of mailings."
The site also offers links to state Republican headquarters.
"Since this is Cleveland County's first site, we wanted to make sure it was connected to the other GOP sites out there," he said.
To build the site, Warren turned to volunteers -- starting with his wife, Cleona.
After he and Cleona developed the idea, they approached the county party's executive committee for approval.
"When Roger was elected county chair, the county party was broke," Cleona Warren said. "And since we didn't have enough money to mail out a newsletter, we though of the Web site."
Once the Warrens received the committee's OK, the pair asked Moore resident Kevin Drury to create the site's design, structure and pages. Drury, who also works as a Web developer for the Oklahoma Department of Transportation, said he was happy to help.
"Roger, Cleona, and my family all go to the same church," Drury said. "And when Roger got elected as county chair, he approached me and asked me do the site. I'm a lifelong Republican, and I support them 100 percent, so I told them I would help."
It took the group about a month to wrap up the design.
"We began the process in April," Cleona Warren said. "We started a little bit at a time, then went through the approval process with the executive committee. On April 24, we got our domain name registered and since then, we've just really been building it."
For Drury the site is "kind of a work in progress."
"People are very positive," he said. "Folks will look at it and say, 'I'd like to see this.' We'll take input from anybody."
And while the site's traffic is slowly beginning to increase, Drury said an electronic fundraising component is already in the works.
"We have the beginnings of that out there now," he said. "Eventually we will set it up where folks can do donations through the Internet -- it just depends on the demand."
Both Warrens said with the volunteer labor and a small, $10 per month hosting fee, the new Web site offers Republicans a simple, cheap way to communicate. "It's the most cost-effective way we could think of," Warren said.
And it comes just as county Republicans are working to secure a third seat on the Cleveland County Board of Commissioners.
"We're trying to make people realize you can control local government if you get involved and go vote," Cleona Warren said. "And we want them to do something about it. School boards, city officials, county elected officials, that's what affects your immediate family."
The Cleveland County Web site is one of only a handful statewide, they said. At present, the state's main Republican site has links to GOP sites in Tulsa, Rogers, Oklahoma and Payne Counties.
"If we keep posting new info, and as long as we can keep making it change and update, I think people are going to want to go to it for information," Cleona Warren said. "It's the younger crowd that likes to surf the Internet."
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
COMMENTARY: Pat McGuigan just doesn't get it
Patrick's McGuigan's June essay in the Oklahoma Council of Public Affairs magazine, "Perspective," shows just how misinformed many state conservatives are about the issues and problems which face Sooner State residents.
In his article, "Conservatism for Oklahoma's Second Century" McGuigan wants us to believe voters lost faith with state Republicans due to a lack of a "positive vision."
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Oklahomans booted many conservatives because they speak one way and act another.
Simply put, they voted against the man, not the party.
For example, when the GOP saddled up their candidates for the fall, 2006 horse race it was obvious from the beginning the party's front runner -- Congressman Ernest Istook -- had little hope of ever gaining enough steam to defeat a popular incumbent, Brad Henry.
Istook's poor campaign strategy, his lack of funds, and his ties to disgraced D.C. insider Jack Abramoff, all conspired against him.
As the fall race unfolded, the Istook campaign then found itself tied to a congressional sex scandal -- through a campaign employee -- and a hit-or-miss fundraising strategy.
Instead of a revolutionary ideas, Istooks campaign gave us receipes.
Neither helped.
Yet, somehow, McGuigan wants us to believe that it was something else -- instead of the GOP's failed leadership -- which pushed voters to the left.
I don't buy it.
McGuigan also trots out the tried, old, "less government, lower taxes" mantra, and wants us to believe that government is, somehow an evil entity just waiting to take away your rights and freedoms.
Funny thing, government is composed of men and women, just like you and me. And while I will agree there are many mistakes, I can also cite many examples of a government which benefits the public.
Pat's being disingenuous.
Citing examples of state agencies which are (or were until 2006) controlled by Republicans, the Corporation Commission and the Labor Department, McGuigan wants us to praise both for their "reductions in spending and personnel over much of the past decade."
But what the former editorial writer of the Daily Oklahoman doesn't tell you is this: he was the second in command of the Labor Department, after being forced out of the his position at the Daily Oklahoman.
Like many other "conservatives" MgGuigan rants about the evils of government while praising the private sector.
Yet his actions say something different.
Instead of remaining in the private sector, after leaving the Daily Oklahoman McGuigan turned to the government and -- like so many others he's scolded -- became a state employee.
I guess, somehow, being a part of government is only bad if you're not being paid by that government.
But wait, there's more.
McGuigan praises the passage of the state's alleged "right to work" law which, he says, "affirms the power of the private sector workers to control the fruits of their own labor."
Again, the writing doesn't match the person.
The product of a union household and a Catholic and public education, McGuigan betrays his past with the belief that right-to-work is somehow better for the state' economy.
Since its passage, huge companies, including Dayton Tire and General Motors, have pulled up stakes and left Oklahoma. These companies have been replaced by a few other smaller companies with with far smaller salaries.
More unemployment and smaller pay do nothing positive for our state.
Right-to-work has done nothing to benefit Oklahoma -- it's just another tool which can be used to force workers into low-paying jobs; which results in an increased use of public services.
I challenge him to prove -- with documents and not hyperbole -- otherwise.
But McGuigan saves his biggest gun -- and his silliest argument -- for last: Educational choice.
Designed to bring back segregation, school choice is simply another tool to divert public funds to private companies.
"Why not finish the job and empower parents and students to fully control their educational destiny?" he asks.
The answer is simple: Most parents and students don't have the skills to develop educational programs. Left to the general public, alone, the state's educational system will look like more Tulsa's '57 Plymoth Belvedere -- rusty and water logged.
Why not apply the same argument to doctors and the legal system? The train wreck would be incredible.
Instead of pontificating, McGuigan should spend a few weeks as a teacher in one of the state's public schools; there he might develop an appreciation for the work done by educators and the problems they face.
While I respect Mr. McGuigan's interest and I support his right to share his ideas with the rest of us, I believe many of those ideas have already proven themselves to be harmful or ill advised.
If Pat truly wants the 3.5 million people who call themselves Sooners to live and work together, he should roll up his sleeves and see for himself the hard work and the problems our residents face.
Otherwise he's just a misinformed, conservative windbag touting a few worn out, tired ideas.
In his article, "Conservatism for Oklahoma's Second Century" McGuigan wants us to believe voters lost faith with state Republicans due to a lack of a "positive vision."
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Oklahomans booted many conservatives because they speak one way and act another.
Simply put, they voted against the man, not the party.
For example, when the GOP saddled up their candidates for the fall, 2006 horse race it was obvious from the beginning the party's front runner -- Congressman Ernest Istook -- had little hope of ever gaining enough steam to defeat a popular incumbent, Brad Henry.
Istook's poor campaign strategy, his lack of funds, and his ties to disgraced D.C. insider Jack Abramoff, all conspired against him.
As the fall race unfolded, the Istook campaign then found itself tied to a congressional sex scandal -- through a campaign employee -- and a hit-or-miss fundraising strategy.
Instead of a revolutionary ideas, Istooks campaign gave us receipes.
Neither helped.
Yet, somehow, McGuigan wants us to believe that it was something else -- instead of the GOP's failed leadership -- which pushed voters to the left.
I don't buy it.
McGuigan also trots out the tried, old, "less government, lower taxes" mantra, and wants us to believe that government is, somehow an evil entity just waiting to take away your rights and freedoms.
Funny thing, government is composed of men and women, just like you and me. And while I will agree there are many mistakes, I can also cite many examples of a government which benefits the public.
Pat's being disingenuous.
Citing examples of state agencies which are (or were until 2006) controlled by Republicans, the Corporation Commission and the Labor Department, McGuigan wants us to praise both for their "reductions in spending and personnel over much of the past decade."
But what the former editorial writer of the Daily Oklahoman doesn't tell you is this: he was the second in command of the Labor Department, after being forced out of the his position at the Daily Oklahoman.
Like many other "conservatives" MgGuigan rants about the evils of government while praising the private sector.
Yet his actions say something different.
Instead of remaining in the private sector, after leaving the Daily Oklahoman McGuigan turned to the government and -- like so many others he's scolded -- became a state employee.
I guess, somehow, being a part of government is only bad if you're not being paid by that government.
But wait, there's more.
McGuigan praises the passage of the state's alleged "right to work" law which, he says, "affirms the power of the private sector workers to control the fruits of their own labor."
Again, the writing doesn't match the person.
The product of a union household and a Catholic and public education, McGuigan betrays his past with the belief that right-to-work is somehow better for the state' economy.
Since its passage, huge companies, including Dayton Tire and General Motors, have pulled up stakes and left Oklahoma. These companies have been replaced by a few other smaller companies with with far smaller salaries.
More unemployment and smaller pay do nothing positive for our state.
Right-to-work has done nothing to benefit Oklahoma -- it's just another tool which can be used to force workers into low-paying jobs; which results in an increased use of public services.
I challenge him to prove -- with documents and not hyperbole -- otherwise.
But McGuigan saves his biggest gun -- and his silliest argument -- for last: Educational choice.
Designed to bring back segregation, school choice is simply another tool to divert public funds to private companies.
"Why not finish the job and empower parents and students to fully control their educational destiny?" he asks.
The answer is simple: Most parents and students don't have the skills to develop educational programs. Left to the general public, alone, the state's educational system will look like more Tulsa's '57 Plymoth Belvedere -- rusty and water logged.
Why not apply the same argument to doctors and the legal system? The train wreck would be incredible.
Instead of pontificating, McGuigan should spend a few weeks as a teacher in one of the state's public schools; there he might develop an appreciation for the work done by educators and the problems they face.
While I respect Mr. McGuigan's interest and I support his right to share his ideas with the rest of us, I believe many of those ideas have already proven themselves to be harmful or ill advised.
If Pat truly wants the 3.5 million people who call themselves Sooners to live and work together, he should roll up his sleeves and see for himself the hard work and the problems our residents face.
Otherwise he's just a misinformed, conservative windbag touting a few worn out, tired ideas.
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