When you’re running for office, you think campaigning is the hard part. Then you get sworn in, and very quickly you realize the real work of local government is much bigger than you imagined. The first few weeks are busy, but it’s a happy kind of busy—congratulations, pictures, emails about the opportunities ahead. It feels like the start of a new adventure.
Then the binders arrive. My first week’s reading was 700 pages. To get through it, I made ten phone calls and held six one-on-one meetings with staff. That kind of load goes on for weeks—reading, meetings, phone calls. You start to find a rhythm, and at first the votes feel almost anticlimactic. After all that work, most end up as 8–0 decisions with little debate. The consensus feels good, and you begin to trust that you’re on the right path.
But sooner or later, the tougher issues land on your desk. You start getting the form emails that special interest groups send out. In between those, residents on both sides of the issue are filling your inbox with passionate opinions. They aren’t holding back, and you can see both sides of the argument. That’s the hard part—you know each perspective has weight, and you have to make the call.
So you dig in. You listen, you ask questions, and you work through the 200 pages of backup material. You field a hundred emails, respond to as many as you can, and add a few hours of your own research. You sit through an hour of public comment and another 90 minutes of council discussion. By the time the clerk calls the roll, you’ve put in 25 hours or more. And then it all boils down to five seconds when the words are said: “Council members, please enter your votes.”
I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. The work is exhausting and humbling at the same time. Each vote carries the weight of 280,000 residents today and countless more in the future. And no matter which way I vote, some people will be upset. That’s part of the responsibility I signed up for.
I share this because when you see that quick vote, it’s easy to wonder if your voice mattered. It did. It does. The emails, the calls, the comments—they are all part of the process that leads up to that final decision. We won’t always agree, but I promise you are seen and heard.
This work is too important to do without you. A vote may take only seconds, but it represents weeks of listening, learning, and weighing perspectives. So please, keep sending the emails, keep making the calls, keep showing up. The story of our city isn’t written in those five seconds—it’s written in everything that leads up to them, with you as part of it.