I’ve never written a letter to the editor or a lengthy endorsement of a candidate for any political office. I’d never written a short one either until I wrote one for Justin Paulsen.

In my short endorsement, I mentioned sitting in my government classroom imagining what local politicians would be like. They would be informed, articulate, passionate, accessible and compassionate, with their finger on the pulse of the community they serve. Those words describe Justin without a doubt.

To revisit that chair at Luray High School, to flit back to my rose-colored mental image of our representatives, I pictured these pillars of the community performing their elected duties as a small cog in the larger machine of government, one built to both listen to the voices of the people and the issues in their lives right now and to anticipate their future needs. Doors would be wide open for them, resources and information at their disposal, because our shining champions of public service would, of course, use it all to the benefit of our community, every member, all equally valuable and important. Those who came away from discussions with them would feel bolstered to have been so heard and respected, confident that answers would be found, solutions proposed and problems solved.

Folks. I know, I know. I’ve experienced and learned a lot since then. My idealistic hope for the structure and heart of government in general aside (and may it be noted that I try not to speak in absolutes, for fear of being thought a Sith, among other reasons), I never felt like I had someone in my community to whom I felt comfortable reaching out, who made me feel heard rather than handled, who actively sought out ways to be in more rooms (or on more fields or in more fields) to better know and hear and think about the people in the community, and whose intentions were so plainly, refreshingly altruistic that it was almost disorienting, until my paths crossed with Justin Paulsen and learned he was running for County Council. I’ve raised questions and concerns with him, planted trees beside him at the new preserve, received lengthy, detailed advice and information from him, turned to him when I’m seeking to understand basically anything local that’s happening or on the horizon, and soon I’ll be able to add that I’ve voted for him for County Council.

So, high school Becca, they’re not all like you’re picturing. But some are. There is hope.

Becca McDowell

Orcas Island