At the Northshore School Board meeting April 22, the board decided to cut at least two essential services to students despite a standing-room-only crowd protesting the cuts. The standing-room crowd was not allowed to voice their concerns as the board also decided to limit the speakers to a total of 10 before making its decisions.
Thank goodness for choices.
The subject of shelter animal care is an emotional issue, and one that until just recently divided us in county government. Strong feelings expressed from people in our community and the great number of e-mails and calls demonstrate how much we all care about the animals in our shelters. It is emotional because those of us with pets often consider them part of the family. It is especially painful to know that we aren’t giving the best care possible to the living, vulnerable and innocent creatures that are in our shelters because they were lost, unwanted or have been abused.
Another tax day in America has come and gone (with the property tax deadline just around the corner). It brought to mind the vast difference in Bothell’s tax base today compared to when Bothell was designated as merely a town in the eyes of state government. That would have been in the late 1950s, when the primary tax dollars were being generated by three car dealerships — Green Ford, HasBrouck Chevrolet and Ericksen Motors.
Nurse: “Doctor! There’s an invisible man in the waiting room!”
Editor’s note: This is a tribute to Dorothy Harshman, who passed away March 31 at the age of 86.
Regarding most recently published letters for/against advertising from Planned Parenthood:
I had a weird thought cross my mind when I was updating the Northshore schools’ list for our Residents’ Guide:
Our great Northshore schools are under extreme pressure. Pressure to educate our children to our higher standards. Pressure to meet and exceed WASL (Washington Assessment of Student Learning) scores. Pressure to attract and retain the highest quality staff — all within the constraints of an inadequate state funding system.
Eating chocolate in bed would not usually be OK with me. Crumbs, especially in bed, are upsetting. But on this particular occasion, what used to be a reasonably sized bar of dark chocolate has by now been completely decimated; what remains is lying on top of the wrapper, next to me beneath my purple comforter. I’ve been under here for about two hours now, time I would usually regret not spending more productively — I could have gone running, taken a shower and dried my hair in that amount of time; I could have baked two full batches of cookies; I could have cracked out a few integral calculus problems.
I’m old enough to remember days when a ride in the family car was a big deal. Especially when the old buggy was about to turn a milestone number on the speedometer.
