I can honestly say that over the past year, there have been only a few meals that surpassed this one. Before me was an untouched cheese plate, sporting two brie wedges, a slab of gorgonzola, and some white and golden slices of cheddar. I sliced off a hunk of brie, rind included. This was after dishing up a salad, of course, and also some poached lobster tail, iced shrimp, and the same delicious salted salmon coated with savory spices. Moving up the buffet-style line, I also nabbed and English banger, and a slice of breaded cod.
Dessert was equally sumptuous. I had two types of crème brulee to choose from, as well as a mound of profiteroles, and some tender walnut coated fudge, or should I say fudge-like substance. It was definitely chocolate. I felt a twinge of guilt after eating all that I did.
So what occasion would demand such a feast? Lunch with the governor? A meeting with some other Tribal Council, perhaps? Far from it, really. No this meal was what I had heard of but never actually experienced, and that was the lunch accompanying the SMGI Board meeting that generally takes place the third Thursday of every month.
I’m not writing about this to inform people of some of the lesser-known excesses that seem so endemic to our business. Admittedly, though, I would be curious to know how much such a lunch costs. Stuff like that just fascinates me. Why I am writing about this is because a) it was my first official meeting as an SMGI Board member, assuming I am issued a license, not always a guarantee; and b) there was a certain level of professionalism that seemed casual and normal here that I feel the need to tell people about, because I can see now why given enough meals and meetings like this, Council/Board members might get a bit of an ego boost. You couldn’t help but feel important somehow, like a high profile executive.
There wasn’t much on our agenda for this meeting. But as a rule of thumb I guess all of Spirit Mountain Casino’s major Directors—Marketing, Gaming, Finance, etc. are still asked to sit in on these meetings, even though most of them spoke very little during the meeting. In fact some said almost nothing, they just sat there quietly watching Council and the Board discuss business and inevitably fall into, dare I say it, micromanaging. It occurs to me that we must sometimes be a bit of a spectacle.
I don’t have a whole heck of a lot of background knowledge in some of what was discussed, so trying to follow the discussion is honestly a little confusing. A couple of items in particular interest one Council member, so about an hour into the meeting Executive Session is called for, and all the staff present, with the exception of one Tribal attorney and the Finance Officer, are asked to leave and wait out in the hallway. I am going to honor the rules of Executive Session and not tell people here what went on in those two sessions. But I will say it saddened me to leave the room and see all these employees, some of them top directors waiting in the hallway while our conversation inside meanders on. I can’t help but think of the DMV. After nearly 45 minutes they are allowed back in, momentarily, while we attend to one other business item and then go back into Executive Session to talk about something I found a little bit questionable, given the amount of time spent dwelling on it. Staff are given permission to leave.
We end the meeting at about four in the afternoon. Of our nearly three-hour meeting, almost two hours of it is spent in Executive Session. And that was my first real foray into the world of Spirit Mountain Gaming, Incorporated. Productive? Maybe, though I don’t really have another meeting to compare it to. Informative? Definitely. Encouraging? I’ll have to think about that one.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Time Off
Because we always take a day off around Restoration, usually the week around Thanksgiving ends up being a one or two-day work week. I took personal time off in an attempt to give myself a mini-vacation. Of course, between one work errand on Monday, and a Council of Governments informal meeting on Wednesday, plus that I for the first time ended up hosting a Thanksgiving dinner at my house, the time off I hoped for was chiseled away at somewhat. As somebody pointed out to me, it almost takes discipline just to really take time off from this job. No checking email, no phone calls to the office, no errands pertaining to work. I don’t know, I so often find myself going through work withdrawal, it doesn’t seem possible. But in an odd way, I guess that’s good. Once I stop caring enough to think about the Tribe, then something is really wrong.
For whoever is interested, cooking a Thanksgiving dinner was like time off, because food and drink will always be a hobby of mine and today seemed like a perfect opportunity to experiment. Good thing my visitors were open-minded. I tried a molasses cranberry glaze for my 22-lbs. bird, stuffed with chorizo-celery stuffing. For a vegetarian guest I prepared fried polenta (had to keep corn in the mix) with mascarpone and olive sauce. My significant other made fried potato cakes laced with chives and diced bacon in place of mashed spuds. About the only thing generic was brown gravy. I don’t really know why I’m writing this, other than to say that times like these remind me how important it is for one to have the occasional creative outlet. My guests sure seemed to like it, as we sent home a lot of food.
Speaking of creative…
Films:
“Beowulf” (2007)
I find this very interesting that Robert Zemeckis would follow up “The Polar Express” with an animated movie that is really quite violent, and at times, sexual. But he did, and I must say that this is actually a very fun film to see. For one, the story of Beowulf has always been one that fascinated me, enough that where I’ve gone on to Amazon to order the full-length translation in print right after seeing this. Two, animation doesn’t always have to be for kids. There are probably plenty of old tales from throughout the world which could be brought to life in a similar manner. Beowulf is good enough to where you feel removed from the real world, transported to old Scandinavia. The story as presented here has a lot of depth, and the characters are all very flawed, which to me is important because you don’t always see that in mythological heroes, at least not in the glossed over versions we read about in grade school. This film probably isn’t for everybody, but if you like a good story, and a little joking around, this film does the job.
Books:
“Grendel” (1971)
There are not very many books that I have kept, much less read more than once. This novel written by John Gardner is the 1970’s is how I know the old story best. On top of that, it is I think one of the best books I’ve ever read. Gardner basically tells the old tale of Beowulf and Grendel from the monster’s point of view. Beowulf himself doesn’t come along until late in the story, and is never mentioned by name. He is just a mysterious stranger that for some reason strikes fear into Grendel’s heart. Most of the story is Grendel harassing Hrothgar and Unferth, and in general trying to pass the time. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in the mind of a literal monster, but for some reason I can’t help but think that this has to be pretty close. You actually come to appreciate Grendel despite that he is evil, cruel, and psychotic. More importantly you come to appreciate a writer’s skill to take an old folktale and make it seem so real.
For whoever is interested, cooking a Thanksgiving dinner was like time off, because food and drink will always be a hobby of mine and today seemed like a perfect opportunity to experiment. Good thing my visitors were open-minded. I tried a molasses cranberry glaze for my 22-lbs. bird, stuffed with chorizo-celery stuffing. For a vegetarian guest I prepared fried polenta (had to keep corn in the mix) with mascarpone and olive sauce. My significant other made fried potato cakes laced with chives and diced bacon in place of mashed spuds. About the only thing generic was brown gravy. I don’t really know why I’m writing this, other than to say that times like these remind me how important it is for one to have the occasional creative outlet. My guests sure seemed to like it, as we sent home a lot of food.
Speaking of creative…
Films:
“Beowulf” (2007)
I find this very interesting that Robert Zemeckis would follow up “The Polar Express” with an animated movie that is really quite violent, and at times, sexual. But he did, and I must say that this is actually a very fun film to see. For one, the story of Beowulf has always been one that fascinated me, enough that where I’ve gone on to Amazon to order the full-length translation in print right after seeing this. Two, animation doesn’t always have to be for kids. There are probably plenty of old tales from throughout the world which could be brought to life in a similar manner. Beowulf is good enough to where you feel removed from the real world, transported to old Scandinavia. The story as presented here has a lot of depth, and the characters are all very flawed, which to me is important because you don’t always see that in mythological heroes, at least not in the glossed over versions we read about in grade school. This film probably isn’t for everybody, but if you like a good story, and a little joking around, this film does the job.
Books:
“Grendel” (1971)
There are not very many books that I have kept, much less read more than once. This novel written by John Gardner is the 1970’s is how I know the old story best. On top of that, it is I think one of the best books I’ve ever read. Gardner basically tells the old tale of Beowulf and Grendel from the monster’s point of view. Beowulf himself doesn’t come along until late in the story, and is never mentioned by name. He is just a mysterious stranger that for some reason strikes fear into Grendel’s heart. Most of the story is Grendel harassing Hrothgar and Unferth, and in general trying to pass the time. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in the mind of a literal monster, but for some reason I can’t help but think that this has to be pretty close. You actually come to appreciate Grendel despite that he is evil, cruel, and psychotic. More importantly you come to appreciate a writer’s skill to take an old folktale and make it seem so real.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
A Revealing Decision
My decision to join Spirit Mountain Casino’s Board of Directors hasn’t been entirely without comment. The first two written remarks came my way last week while in Warm Springs. They were, unedited:
"Chris,
I was reading the Tilixam Wawa and was thinking about tribal concerns and the current leadership. Thus, I want to thank you for serving another term. I imagine that your efforts are often criticized and unappreciated; however, I believe that you are a very good representative and leader for our tribe. As you know, tribal members lack confidence and trust in many of our leaders. You are one of the few that I trust is strictly focusing on the job you were elected to do. Thank you again for your leadership.
Respectfully,
- (name omitted)"
And,
"Sorry to see that you gave in and joined the casino board. The directors should bring to the Board a wealth of business experience and a track record of good business judgement in a variety of situations "relevant to to the Casino operations." Reyn was a logger, Cheryle in thr health field, you are a writer and jack of all trades. I just hope it will work out.
(name omitted)"
And,
"I should he included Kathleen Tom in my earlier e-mail but her background is empty on the web site.
(name omitted)"
As you can tell, one was fairly encouraging, the other not. I would say that based upon the numerous verbal comments I’ve received, the split in opinions on this is on par with the actual vote itself. That belief was affirmed today as I was approached by a Council member in my office, who revealed that at least one other Tribal member had voiced their disapproval to him. Evidently they thought the presence of Kathy Tom and I at the casino was going to have some chaotic affect.
It reminded me for some reason of the old superstition that a vampire cannot invade your house unless you invite him in. The offended Tribal member, I was told, was very worked up. This had my fellow Council man at a loss. “Aren’t we all on the same team?” he pondered out loud, and besides, what on Earth kind of damage could the two of us do? I told him my own belief that in a democracy like Grand Ronde political parties eventually form, and they are in many cases personality driven; whoever this person was obviously didn’t object to other Council members sitting on SMGI, their problem was they didn’t like me.
But this is all beside the point. In summary the reaction to our decision has been very mild, and I would almost say non-existent. I can only guess why. Maybe with the election over (and won, depending on who you are), the issue no longer matters.
What I do know is that actually getting on the board is a minor undertaking. The Friday following the Council meeting in which the resolution appointing me (for the record an odd event, as the minutes indicate) I received my application for a gaming license. The application is nearly 12 pages long, more if counting the three pages of financial disclosures.
To make a long story short, what the Gaming Commission would like to know before granting me that high-security license is just about every notable event in my life over the past ten years. Being 32, that takes me back to college, which now seems like a dream.
I am twice required to account for the last ten years, one in terms of work history, the other in whereabouts. Do not, they let you know, leave any gaps in timelines. Those are red flags, and suspicious.
Because of my propensity to travel much after college, coming up with addresses is not always easy, especially after moving five or six times as well. Coming up with all my old mailing addresses is made easy by only one thing: my previous gaming license application, since I worked at Spirit Mountain Casino five years ago as a Cage Cashier, another position requiring a high security license. They had the application on file, thankfully, meaning I would only need to account for the last five years. I would have been hard-pressed to find old addresses in Ecuador and Germany.
Knowing all my working addresses, phone numbers, and supervisors over the last ten years is equally troublesome. But once again, the old application saves me.
So thorough this process is at one point I must call my significant other to ask her if she or anybody in her immediate family has any felonies. I must also account for my own legal mistakes, ranging from arrests to lawsuits to any sort of official state/federal investigation, including tax liens or plea bargains in exchange for cooperating with police. I halfway expect them to ask about the biological history of my cats.
Given that confidentiality is taken lightly in Indian Country, and that sadly includes Grand Ronde, I very hesitantly disclose all financial information on the second form. I mean no offense to the Gaming Commission, but listing out my savings account and personal property to anybody but myself, immediate family, or IRS makes me nervous.
Sitting here now, I sound irritated probably. That is due, I suspect, that it took me nearly three hours to fill this application. But being fair, I am relieved that we are a self-regulating tribe, and that we are this thorough.
"Chris,
I was reading the Tilixam Wawa and was thinking about tribal concerns and the current leadership. Thus, I want to thank you for serving another term. I imagine that your efforts are often criticized and unappreciated; however, I believe that you are a very good representative and leader for our tribe. As you know, tribal members lack confidence and trust in many of our leaders. You are one of the few that I trust is strictly focusing on the job you were elected to do. Thank you again for your leadership.
Respectfully,
- (name omitted)"
And,
"Sorry to see that you gave in and joined the casino board. The directors should bring to the Board a wealth of business experience and a track record of good business judgement in a variety of situations "relevant to to the Casino operations." Reyn was a logger, Cheryle in thr health field, you are a writer and jack of all trades. I just hope it will work out.
(name omitted)"
And,
"I should he included Kathleen Tom in my earlier e-mail but her background is empty on the web site.
(name omitted)"
As you can tell, one was fairly encouraging, the other not. I would say that based upon the numerous verbal comments I’ve received, the split in opinions on this is on par with the actual vote itself. That belief was affirmed today as I was approached by a Council member in my office, who revealed that at least one other Tribal member had voiced their disapproval to him. Evidently they thought the presence of Kathy Tom and I at the casino was going to have some chaotic affect.
It reminded me for some reason of the old superstition that a vampire cannot invade your house unless you invite him in. The offended Tribal member, I was told, was very worked up. This had my fellow Council man at a loss. “Aren’t we all on the same team?” he pondered out loud, and besides, what on Earth kind of damage could the two of us do? I told him my own belief that in a democracy like Grand Ronde political parties eventually form, and they are in many cases personality driven; whoever this person was obviously didn’t object to other Council members sitting on SMGI, their problem was they didn’t like me.
But this is all beside the point. In summary the reaction to our decision has been very mild, and I would almost say non-existent. I can only guess why. Maybe with the election over (and won, depending on who you are), the issue no longer matters.
What I do know is that actually getting on the board is a minor undertaking. The Friday following the Council meeting in which the resolution appointing me (for the record an odd event, as the minutes indicate) I received my application for a gaming license. The application is nearly 12 pages long, more if counting the three pages of financial disclosures.
To make a long story short, what the Gaming Commission would like to know before granting me that high-security license is just about every notable event in my life over the past ten years. Being 32, that takes me back to college, which now seems like a dream.
I am twice required to account for the last ten years, one in terms of work history, the other in whereabouts. Do not, they let you know, leave any gaps in timelines. Those are red flags, and suspicious.
Because of my propensity to travel much after college, coming up with addresses is not always easy, especially after moving five or six times as well. Coming up with all my old mailing addresses is made easy by only one thing: my previous gaming license application, since I worked at Spirit Mountain Casino five years ago as a Cage Cashier, another position requiring a high security license. They had the application on file, thankfully, meaning I would only need to account for the last five years. I would have been hard-pressed to find old addresses in Ecuador and Germany.
Knowing all my working addresses, phone numbers, and supervisors over the last ten years is equally troublesome. But once again, the old application saves me.
So thorough this process is at one point I must call my significant other to ask her if she or anybody in her immediate family has any felonies. I must also account for my own legal mistakes, ranging from arrests to lawsuits to any sort of official state/federal investigation, including tax liens or plea bargains in exchange for cooperating with police. I halfway expect them to ask about the biological history of my cats.
Given that confidentiality is taken lightly in Indian Country, and that sadly includes Grand Ronde, I very hesitantly disclose all financial information on the second form. I mean no offense to the Gaming Commission, but listing out my savings account and personal property to anybody but myself, immediate family, or IRS makes me nervous.
Sitting here now, I sound irritated probably. That is due, I suspect, that it took me nearly three hours to fill this application. But being fair, I am relieved that we are a self-regulating tribe, and that we are this thorough.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Pictures from Warm Springs
Obviously, I like toting my camera around. As you can see, there is a beauty to Warm Springs that is hard to describe. I am not sure I could live here, but don't mind visiting. And I have not idea whose horses these are. Probably nobody's.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
On The Road
Maybe I’m a little eccentric. But for some reason, being given the chance to visit another Indian reservation always excites me. I am not entirely sure why. Perhaps because often it tends to be somewhat of a cultural experience, maybe even political, as tribes all have their own unique politics, their own form of government that appears on many levels like our own.
Right now I am in Warm Springs, as in the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs community of Oregon. My main reason for being here is our Annual Government-to-Government Tribal and State Consultation. This happens once a year, and the real purpose is to give the State of Oregon and its nine federally recognized tribes the chance to rub elbows, network, and remind one another that there are many things we can work on together. It is the one time per year that our Governor gets together with all the Tribes for good honest discussion. Some years all the chairs get a private dinner, including tonight. Not being chair I am no longer afforded that opportunity. But last year I remember easily, as in an effort to improve relations he was seated next to me during our supper at Seven Feathers, the casino of the Cow Creek Band of Indians. Kulongoski and I did not talk too much about tribal issues last year. Instead we discussed global warming and alternative fuel sources, both agreeing that tribes could play a major role as leaders in those arenas.
The drive to Warm Springs is long, more than three hours from McMinnville, where I live. There are probably back roads to get here, but 99.9% of the people must go through either Portland or Madras, making a trip to this area always long, which is funny because in terms of pure distance it is not that far. But there are curves, hills, small towns, and snow areas, making the reservation not nearly as accessible as Grand Ronde, probably more so in winter.
As I turn off of Hwy. 26 towards Kah-Nee-Ta, the resort, the roads immediately become rough and rustic. Signs warning drivers of feral horses and free-roaming cattle are posted along the road. That doesn’t stop the first glimpse of a huge bull from being a shock, especially at night. In Grand Ronde and the surrounding area I am usually on guard for deer or even coyotes, which can cross your path out of nowhere. Hitting a half-ton bull or horse with my pick-up would be much worse.
Warm Springs is, at least at first glance, quite barren, though I have been informed they have more forest than Grand Ronde. But where Kah-Nee-Tah is, the heart of the reservation, there is mostly dry brush, some low-lying trees, and rocks, bushes, rocks, and dried grass, set amidst a maze of hills. There is, admittedly, a beauty to it all, made more so by the genuine natural quiet that occurs in places like this.
I don’t really have much experience with what one would call true reservation communities, so coming to Warm Springs is very interesting. This place is visibly poor, more than Grand Ronde. It is not in the same league as some places I’ve seen in my travels, but nobody would call this place prosperous. The first building I cruise by is a mini-mart, making sure to advertise beer. Black steel bars cover the windows and doors. Many of the other buildings look dilapidated and very rustic.
The same type of rustic quality is part of the charm of Kah-Nee-Tah. The plain brown paint is fading, and on the railings toward my room has long since peeled away. The stairs nearby have plastered holes which have not been painted over.
I am not writing this to provide an unflattering picture of Warm Springs. But I am telling people what I see, because complaints about a number of things in Grand Ronde seem less compelling compared to what I’ve seen over the past two days here. This tribe really would benefit immensely from a better source of revenue than Indian Head Casino, getting to which is hardly convenient. But their problems would still be a long ways from solved, as evidenced by the man and woman who stumbled out of the hotel bar as I sat trying to catch the nighttime sports updates. A local at the same bar explains to me how a local market has Oregon’s highest beer sales. I don’t know if that is really true, but part of me really hopes not.
This morning on my way to the Oregon Tribal Gaming Alliance meeting I run into, almost literally, a Warm Springs Tribal member who knew me from somewhere. I really don’t remember where I met him. He asks me why Grand Ronde can’t just back off on this whole Cascade Locks affair. I explain to him that it’s really not that simple, that some members of our Council really feel like a Cascade Locks casino would hurt Spirit Mountain. He thanks me for voting against Grand Ronde’s actions a few times. How on earth he would know something like that I can’t imagine. But then again, I’ve heard said that nothing’s confidential in Indian Country.
I am enjoying my time here right now. Tomorrow I will hopefully get to speak with the governor. At the least I will get to meet with other Tribal leaders, and they will congratulate me on surviving the election. One tribal leader has told me their General membership will be voting on the Council pay raise. Another tells me they will be having their own Council elections next month. It still impresses me the parallels between Grand Ronde and other tribes. Our issues are not as unique as we think.
It almost seems like tribes all go through the same pattern, the same history. Warm Springs is right now perhaps what Grand Ronde was 20 years ago, the poor tribe still hoping for that big break. Whether that break ever happens hinges largely on the leadership, I suppose. It is our job to recognize when opportunities present themselves, or when a certain path will lead us nowhere.
Warm Springs elected half a new Council last spring. I look forward to watching them, having been through something similar myself.
Right now I am in Warm Springs, as in the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs community of Oregon. My main reason for being here is our Annual Government-to-Government Tribal and State Consultation. This happens once a year, and the real purpose is to give the State of Oregon and its nine federally recognized tribes the chance to rub elbows, network, and remind one another that there are many things we can work on together. It is the one time per year that our Governor gets together with all the Tribes for good honest discussion. Some years all the chairs get a private dinner, including tonight. Not being chair I am no longer afforded that opportunity. But last year I remember easily, as in an effort to improve relations he was seated next to me during our supper at Seven Feathers, the casino of the Cow Creek Band of Indians. Kulongoski and I did not talk too much about tribal issues last year. Instead we discussed global warming and alternative fuel sources, both agreeing that tribes could play a major role as leaders in those arenas.
The drive to Warm Springs is long, more than three hours from McMinnville, where I live. There are probably back roads to get here, but 99.9% of the people must go through either Portland or Madras, making a trip to this area always long, which is funny because in terms of pure distance it is not that far. But there are curves, hills, small towns, and snow areas, making the reservation not nearly as accessible as Grand Ronde, probably more so in winter.
As I turn off of Hwy. 26 towards Kah-Nee-Ta, the resort, the roads immediately become rough and rustic. Signs warning drivers of feral horses and free-roaming cattle are posted along the road. That doesn’t stop the first glimpse of a huge bull from being a shock, especially at night. In Grand Ronde and the surrounding area I am usually on guard for deer or even coyotes, which can cross your path out of nowhere. Hitting a half-ton bull or horse with my pick-up would be much worse.
Warm Springs is, at least at first glance, quite barren, though I have been informed they have more forest than Grand Ronde. But where Kah-Nee-Tah is, the heart of the reservation, there is mostly dry brush, some low-lying trees, and rocks, bushes, rocks, and dried grass, set amidst a maze of hills. There is, admittedly, a beauty to it all, made more so by the genuine natural quiet that occurs in places like this.
I don’t really have much experience with what one would call true reservation communities, so coming to Warm Springs is very interesting. This place is visibly poor, more than Grand Ronde. It is not in the same league as some places I’ve seen in my travels, but nobody would call this place prosperous. The first building I cruise by is a mini-mart, making sure to advertise beer. Black steel bars cover the windows and doors. Many of the other buildings look dilapidated and very rustic.
The same type of rustic quality is part of the charm of Kah-Nee-Tah. The plain brown paint is fading, and on the railings toward my room has long since peeled away. The stairs nearby have plastered holes which have not been painted over.
I am not writing this to provide an unflattering picture of Warm Springs. But I am telling people what I see, because complaints about a number of things in Grand Ronde seem less compelling compared to what I’ve seen over the past two days here. This tribe really would benefit immensely from a better source of revenue than Indian Head Casino, getting to which is hardly convenient. But their problems would still be a long ways from solved, as evidenced by the man and woman who stumbled out of the hotel bar as I sat trying to catch the nighttime sports updates. A local at the same bar explains to me how a local market has Oregon’s highest beer sales. I don’t know if that is really true, but part of me really hopes not.
This morning on my way to the Oregon Tribal Gaming Alliance meeting I run into, almost literally, a Warm Springs Tribal member who knew me from somewhere. I really don’t remember where I met him. He asks me why Grand Ronde can’t just back off on this whole Cascade Locks affair. I explain to him that it’s really not that simple, that some members of our Council really feel like a Cascade Locks casino would hurt Spirit Mountain. He thanks me for voting against Grand Ronde’s actions a few times. How on earth he would know something like that I can’t imagine. But then again, I’ve heard said that nothing’s confidential in Indian Country.
I am enjoying my time here right now. Tomorrow I will hopefully get to speak with the governor. At the least I will get to meet with other Tribal leaders, and they will congratulate me on surviving the election. One tribal leader has told me their General membership will be voting on the Council pay raise. Another tells me they will be having their own Council elections next month. It still impresses me the parallels between Grand Ronde and other tribes. Our issues are not as unique as we think.
It almost seems like tribes all go through the same pattern, the same history. Warm Springs is right now perhaps what Grand Ronde was 20 years ago, the poor tribe still hoping for that big break. Whether that break ever happens hinges largely on the leadership, I suppose. It is our job to recognize when opportunities present themselves, or when a certain path will lead us nowhere.
Warm Springs elected half a new Council last spring. I look forward to watching them, having been through something similar myself.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Too Much Information
Because we didn’t have quorum on Tuesday, there were no meetings scheduled. Oddly enough, days like these tend to be some of my most productive, more so recently with the nature of many of our meetings. They are productive in that I am given the opportunity to assault the mountain of emails, phone calls, and more importantly, paperwork which piles up when we don’t attend them. My office right now would rival a CPA’s or tax attorney’s.
I’ve tried to develop a system to keep everything from piling up. Phone calls are the easiest to deal with, provided whoever has put in the call isn’t making some unreasonable request, which happens a lot. Most of the time though whatever it is can be referred to the appropriate employee or manager.
Emails tend to be different. Being on Council seems to automatically place your email address on a number of lists, even more so as you become involved with committees and outside boards. A number of managers and employees, especially our lawyers, in order to be effective and also cover their behinds, communicate with Council by email, often even seeking direction by asking for responses. It doesn’t always work, but at least it creates a written record documenting that they tried.
Most important of all, we get numerous emails from Tribal members, some asking basic information questions, others grilling us on stuff that gets a little more complex. I try to flag those emails that require a lengthy response. In total, I personally receive between 30-60 emails in a day. If I go for a few weeks without cleaning out my inbox, I can amass more than a 1000 emails, many of which I like to keep. So I’ve got like 30 different email folders where I relegate old emails, to be dusted off for some obscure future use. I must spend at least an hour a month organizing my emails.
The emails and phone calls though hardly compare with the paperwork. The amount of government, tribal, and personal entities with which the Tribe has contact is staggering, and we are cc’d on a lot of the correspondence that goes to Legal, Natural Resources, Culture, and the various branches of CTGR. Some days we get more than 100 pages of faxes, letters, memorandums, and notifications.
Realistically, to actually read each and every piece of paper that arrives in our mailbox is probably impossible. So you learn to mine, to sort through the numerous reports, memos, etc. to make a personal choice as to what is worth keeping or what goes to the shredder, to keep tabs on some letters because depending on the issue, it is just a chapter in some ongoing saga.
I keep most of my paperwork, for a few months, maybe even a year at least. Others think I’m crazy, but I still like having documentation and records. A county official informed me last week that 80% of papers that get filed away are never fully used again. I don’t know about the accuracy of that, but in my case it doesn’t seem out of the question. That still won’t stop me from keeping paperwork. I like having a clear written record of events, regardless of how much time and space it takes to store them. As a wannabe historian, I like having those records. My own personal hunch is that history, not just in Grand Ronde, but in many other places, has often suffered from faulty record-keeping, if not loss of records altogether.
That didn’t stop me from making heavy use of the shredder on Tuesday. I made such heavy use that the shredder blocked up and even started to emit a burning smell. Dakota Whitecloud and I had to jam our fingers up underneath the blades to scrape out the shredded pulp. All in all I filled two medium-sized garbage bags with what I’d shredded on Tuesday, and that is not counting the non-sensitive material that was just tossed into the recycling bags. If I were to measure the amount of paperwork in my office by stacked inches, I would have at least ten feet. I can’t imagine the trees that die to produce our paperwork.
My filing cabinets are still heavy with paper. Maybe some of it will be useful down the road, while a lot it will be that 80%. My mailbox will still be full tomorrow, no doubt, with some reports, packets and who knows what else.
I’ll continue to keep a lot of it, occasionally feeding the shredder. That’s just me.
I’ve tried to develop a system to keep everything from piling up. Phone calls are the easiest to deal with, provided whoever has put in the call isn’t making some unreasonable request, which happens a lot. Most of the time though whatever it is can be referred to the appropriate employee or manager.
Emails tend to be different. Being on Council seems to automatically place your email address on a number of lists, even more so as you become involved with committees and outside boards. A number of managers and employees, especially our lawyers, in order to be effective and also cover their behinds, communicate with Council by email, often even seeking direction by asking for responses. It doesn’t always work, but at least it creates a written record documenting that they tried.
Most important of all, we get numerous emails from Tribal members, some asking basic information questions, others grilling us on stuff that gets a little more complex. I try to flag those emails that require a lengthy response. In total, I personally receive between 30-60 emails in a day. If I go for a few weeks without cleaning out my inbox, I can amass more than a 1000 emails, many of which I like to keep. So I’ve got like 30 different email folders where I relegate old emails, to be dusted off for some obscure future use. I must spend at least an hour a month organizing my emails.
The emails and phone calls though hardly compare with the paperwork. The amount of government, tribal, and personal entities with which the Tribe has contact is staggering, and we are cc’d on a lot of the correspondence that goes to Legal, Natural Resources, Culture, and the various branches of CTGR. Some days we get more than 100 pages of faxes, letters, memorandums, and notifications.
Realistically, to actually read each and every piece of paper that arrives in our mailbox is probably impossible. So you learn to mine, to sort through the numerous reports, memos, etc. to make a personal choice as to what is worth keeping or what goes to the shredder, to keep tabs on some letters because depending on the issue, it is just a chapter in some ongoing saga.
I keep most of my paperwork, for a few months, maybe even a year at least. Others think I’m crazy, but I still like having documentation and records. A county official informed me last week that 80% of papers that get filed away are never fully used again. I don’t know about the accuracy of that, but in my case it doesn’t seem out of the question. That still won’t stop me from keeping paperwork. I like having a clear written record of events, regardless of how much time and space it takes to store them. As a wannabe historian, I like having those records. My own personal hunch is that history, not just in Grand Ronde, but in many other places, has often suffered from faulty record-keeping, if not loss of records altogether.
That didn’t stop me from making heavy use of the shredder on Tuesday. I made such heavy use that the shredder blocked up and even started to emit a burning smell. Dakota Whitecloud and I had to jam our fingers up underneath the blades to scrape out the shredded pulp. All in all I filled two medium-sized garbage bags with what I’d shredded on Tuesday, and that is not counting the non-sensitive material that was just tossed into the recycling bags. If I were to measure the amount of paperwork in my office by stacked inches, I would have at least ten feet. I can’t imagine the trees that die to produce our paperwork.
My filing cabinets are still heavy with paper. Maybe some of it will be useful down the road, while a lot it will be that 80%. My mailbox will still be full tomorrow, no doubt, with some reports, packets and who knows what else.
I’ll continue to keep a lot of it, occasionally feeding the shredder. That’s just me.
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