I saw
my first tarantula of the season yesterday. It was ambling across Highway 154
just as I was turning onto the road from my driveway. I swung a little wide to
avoid it, as I have a fondness for the furry little things. It’s that time of
year when you realize that the days are getting a bit shorter, the sun isn’t
quite as bright, and you wonder if it is time to actually use that cover that
has spent most of the summer folded up at the end of the bed.
People have told me that, when we see the tarantulas out
and about, it is because they are trying to keep from drowning in their
hole-homes. This was, of course, during the years when we had a lot of rain.
Actually, I have also been told that the real reason we see them around is
because they are searching for mates. I don’t know that much about them, except
for what my Father told me. He assured me that they were not poisonous but that
they had a mechanical bite. Clearly, one can “out walk” them, so I have not
ever been afraid of them except when I found them in the house occasionally. I
remember one time, when I was about ten years old, my Mother and I came upon
one in the living room. I think Father was out on deer patrol at the moment, so
it was up to us to remove it. Mother took out the fireplace shovel with the
intention of lifting it up and taking it outside. It would not stay on the
little shovel so she proceeded to tap it on its back, trying to make it move to
the door. It sprung up in the air, presumably in reaction
to the tap, at which point we both lost our composure. I leapt to the sofa and
began giving instructions to my Mother as only an
hysterical child can do! “Hit it harder,” I directed from the safety of the
sofa. My Mother turned around and gave me what I think was the nastiest look
she ever gave in her entire life and said in a stern tone, “If you think you
can do this better, get down off that sofa and do it yourself!” Well,
naturally, that ended the conversation from the sofa, at which point Father arrived
and swiftly picked up the spider and placed it outside. I still have a fondness
for the little creatures and know that fall is finally here when I see them
moving around above ground.
Rewriting History
It not only doesn’t stop, it just keeps getting stranger
and stranger. No, this isn’t very good English, but somehow it seems
appropriate to describe the on-going events surrounding our politicians and the
local tribe. Just last week, virtually everyone in Santa Barbara County, with
some notable exceptions, was stunned to hear an announcement in a local paper
that the name of Highway 154 had been changed to the ‘Chumash Highway.’ Wow!
What brought this on and why didn’t we know about it ahead of time? We have
since found out some interesting facts.
First, none of our local political representatives knew
about it either. Why would that be?
Second, a person from Monterey County presented this
idea to the State Legislature, where it was unanimously voted in. Why would
someone from outside our district propose such a thing without support from the
district it would affect?
Third, why would the highway “celebrate” only one group
of people who have been a part of the history of the Santa Ynez
Valley?
The answers to some of these questions might not be what
you would expect. What we do know at this moment is that our Assembly
representative, Pedro Nava, was responsible for the bill, although − for some unknown
reason − his name does
not appear on it. We also have managed
to track some thirteen thousand dollars in donations from the tribe that helped
make this happen. We know that the compact signed with the State of California
identified the tribe in our valley as the Santa Ynez
Band of Mission Indians, not the Chumash, which is how they seem to want to
identify themselves today. We know that there is some question as to the
legitimacy of the status of the tribe because certain local families on the
1931 census are identified as Mexican, not tribal.
So, just what is going on here? Is this just an
advertisement for a commercial establishment? If so, it is strictly forbidden
on a Scenic Highway, which is the designation of Highway 154. It seems to me
that the rest of the Valley community no longer has representation in the
governmental arena if one group of people can so easily buy influence over
everyone else. I believe that our own sovereignty has just been sold to someone
who doesn’t even pay taxes to support the infrastructure they depend on.
On a similar and related topic, are you aware that our
Governor has taken back the million-plus dollars that was supposed to come to
Santa Barbara County this year to help pay for some of that infrastructure that
is impacted by the casino? That’s a shot across our bow, a warning that we need
to begin to understand all of the issues and do our best to change to a more
equitable system. We have now lost our representation in government, but we are
still expected to pay for it all. Do you remember the historical battle fought
over English tea and the cry of “No taxation without representation?” We may find that we are at the same
juncture unless we are willing to stand up for ourselves.
One
way that you can do that today is to find the signature gatherers at
Albertson’s in Buellton or in Santa Barbara, where there are four (a fifth to
come soon) petitions asking that the four compacts with tribes down south be
stopped until adequate measures are put in place to deal with the impacts the
casinos have on local communities. This will also apply to our local casino, as
we understand they currently are negotiating a significant expansion of what
they already have. In addition, you need to understand the “most favored
nation” status, which guarantees any tribe so designated will be entitled to
the same agreements that other tribes get. Despite protestations to the
contrary, negotiations are occurring with people who are supposed to represent
ALL citizens, not just the ones who make the most donations. That system makes
us on the level with many other countries in the world where only certain
interests are considered relevant. Because, to date, our county representatives
have been less than helpful in making sure that the community in which the
casino is located is protected from casino impacts, we must take on this job
ourselves. As we learn more about what is happening, we will let you know. Let
us know your thoughts and concerns with letters to the editor and topics you
would like us to cover.
County Permits
I
attended, a year or so ago, a few meetings of the PIT process which was
supposed to be an attempt by the County to try to make the permit process
something that was more workable and user friendly. It failed. I am sorry to
report that after a couple of meetings with many County staff people and
individuals such as I who had had some experience with trying to get permits,
it became painfully clear to me that this was hopeless. Only the people who
actually had applied for permits really understood the problem; the others
thought that by changing words on county documents, things would be simplified.
Let me give you a couple of examples of what I am talking about from my own
experience.
A few
years ago I wanted to build a cover over an existing horse arena so that I
would no longer have to watch the dirt disappear into the adjoining pasture
each winter. In the summer it would be cooler as well for both horses and
cattle. I had been requested to host a couple of horse shows, which I was
pleased to do as it is a beautiful location, unseen from the highway, and would
showcase my horses and cattle. This was supposed to be a fairly simple permit,
but by the time the County staff got through with me, I had spent $20,000 in
permit fees (not including engineering or architectural fees), had appeared
before the architectural review committee twice, and had been forced to agree
in writing to only hold a certain number of shows a year with only a certain
number of horses which the County had NO authority to require. They also
required that I install a sprinkler system under the metal roof which required
further engineering to account for the weight. I guess they thought the cows
would self-combust or something. Needless to say, I never built the cover.
This
year, my doctor gave me a prescription to build a pool in my backyard for my
health. I applied for a permit, not sure that I could get one because of the
location of my house next to the river. Sure enough, the contractor was told
that they needed us to verify the “validity of the parcel” before issuing the
permit. For some reason, even though they had on record a previous permit for a
bathroom remodel in the same house, they couldn’t bring themselves to believe
it because the house was built before zoning existed (in 1926). I had to hire
an attorney to bring them to reality. They could have just as easily called
their taxation division, because they don’t seem to have any trouble with us
being “valid!” Eventually, they produced a permit and I now have a pool in
which to do my exercise. The horror stories could fill a book of experiences
with the Planning and Development Department or whatever it is called these
days. The point is, no one seems the least bit
concerned except for the applicants who are subjected to the ridiculous
behavior of this department. It’s time to make some serious changes − and maybe it needs to start from the
top.
Changes
Speaking
of changes, all of us at the Journal would like to welcome our new Editor,
Edmond Jacoby. He comes to us from an illustrious and wide-reaching career in
journalism stretching from coast to coast. We are delighted that he has chosen
to join us in what promises to be some pretty exciting but challenging times
here in the Valley. We look forward to working with him and know that he will
enrich our experience, and by virtue of that, everyone in the community.