WHAT ME WORRY?
Max has that Alfred E. Newman look on his face, the famous "What me worry?" look.

We have season tickets to the local symphony. Last night was opening night. Since there were but two tickets, I begged off in favor of staying home with the dogs while Max and Candace attended the concert. It was the "dad" thing to do.

The first picture was taken across the street from the Cascade Theater. The Historic Clover Club remains a favorite watering hole in our town even though those who now favor it are the types you don't want to run into in a dark alley.

The Clover Club is across the street of the Registrar of Voters office. One election night while waiting for the results of a school bond issue that I placed on the ballot, my good friend Bob Small, Candace and a reporter from the local newspaper visited the Clover Club. Bond money was to be used to build a new middle school.

We toasted several times to the success of the passage of the bond. We waited at the Clover Club until nearly midnight when we floated across the street to check the results of the election. We found that the bond lost by 16 votes. A lot of work went into the campaign to pass this initiative, mostly my hard work done after work hours.

What was most irritating was that I found later that more than a few parents who helped work on the bond campaign didn't bother to vote. They felt that its passage was a done deal and figured that their vote wasn't needed.

Long story short, I placed the same initiative to pass a bond on another ballot three years later. The Registrar of Voters would not certify the election because it was very close. The ballots were recounted again. This took a week. After a week of waiting the County Clerk called me personally to announce that the bond had passed. Ironically, it passed with a margin of 8 votes.

I didn't know how emotionally involved I had become with this whole matter. After learning of the passage of the bond by 8 wonderful votes old Bob broke down and had a good cry. Man, did that ever feel good. Nothing like letting out the feminine side once in a while. An hour later I cried again. This time it was while on the telephone when our friend the reporter from the local paper called to get my take on the very close election.

Today when anyone tells me that it does no good to vote because their vote doesn't count I tell this story. Every vote does count, believe it!

Here is Max in front of the Cascade Theater. It dates back to the 1920's. Restoration took place several years ago. What a great place for a concert.

The neon sign goes up and over the top of the building. It can be seen from miles away. It's nice to see something old restored to close to or even better than its original state. I hope someone bears that in mind when it comes to restoring old Bob one day. They can leave off the neon sign. Once restored, I'll be able to twinkle on my own.