Public Service, Interview with Kristy Kelly

I learned to value community by first renouncing it. Like many of our current friends, my husband and I came to Mendocino County in the early seventies. We thought we had invented the "back to the land" lifestyle--a retreat into our own corner of wilderness--and were surprised to find others were doing the same thing! We had worked hard in the Bay Area to pay for our land, and were quite driven by a vision of having an idyllic spot away from the rat race. The idea of being complete and accountable only to ourselves was intoxicating--in "escaping" we would keep some vital part of ourselves intact. I remember being surprised when Kevin's grandmother questioned my purchase of a rug for a room that was just sketches on paper at the time. So vividly could I imagine our goal that I had mentally "moved in"--reality was just a lot of details! I'm sure I was insufferable at times--positive that I had the right plan, with the right man, in the most perfect spot on Earth. Surely enlightenment was just around the corner!
When we actually came here to live, I was disturbed to find that pulling away from the world wasn't as satisfying as I'd imagined. I became somewhat depressed, and wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn't just relax and enjoy this beautiful but isolated spot. Why was I so driven to connect with other people? Now I don't see that as pathological at all.

Within a year I was back in the world--hired to direct Project Sanctuary, a domestic violence shelter and crisis service. This was such a challenge, and such a delight! Working with bright and creative women, we literally made it up as we went along. There were few models for shelters at that time. Even working with the painful realities of lives devastated by domestic violence, we experienced abundant joy and humor. We dubbed the staff and residents alike "shelterettes," and friends of the program were "honorary shelterettes." We held staff meetings in hot tubs, and did all kinds of innovative things to serve as a balance for our poor salaries and emotionally draining jobs.
     The shelter's existence was a message to everyone that domestic violence was a problem that belonged to the community--not a single woman's shame or failure. I witnessed the community's warmth and generosity, unexpected alliances and, in some cases, the sotto voce admission that "this is something I know about from my sister (mother, daughter, etc.)." The community willed it, and we were the conduits.
     Over a seven year period we built a funding base which enabled us to purchase the shelter, provide school-based prevention programs, and secure ongoing funding for fundamental operations. I discovered how to lobby Sacramento--learning that legislators need information on the issues of their constituent base as much as we need funding and changes in the law. I also formed relationships with staff at the capitol. Now with the advent of term limits, I have found them to be among my most reliable contacts. Though they move from one legislator's office to another, they are always in the business of helping their boss stay in close connection with consituents (whether their concerns are geographic or issue-based). I learned there is no need to be shy when approaching these folks!
     Before my experiences with Project Sanctuary, I'd always thought of a leader as someone with the big picture who led the charge and motivated the troops--to use a military metaphor. I never felt attracted or competent to take on that kind of role. I discovered that if I just kept heads-up and joined in the effort while heading in a direction that felt healthy, interesting and exciting, I could give flavor and shape to our efforts. I was really just joining the charge. Leadership was a delightful co-creational process--not one person with a bright idea dragging others reluctantly along. In mutual respect, we sparked off of one another to discover each next step--sometimes with noise and passion. This was very exciting!
     Our programs were both stable and dynamic. New ideas were welcomed but also thoroughly chewed over before we made changes. The staff meeting process we developed was so effective that we received a "transfer of technology" grant from the federal government to promulgate the model nationally. The key to the success of these "transfers" was the degree to which each agency made the process its own. One never entirely follows in another's footsteps.

After eight years of administrative work, I needed to regroup. Community involvement dropped off my agenda, and I focused on my family and MFCC private practice. This was my time to say, "Somebody else will handle it; I'll read about it in the newspaper;" or "I'd rather turn to the entertainment section." I'm not advocating this attitude as a life-long pattern. During times in our lives when we've got the energy and are ripe for involvement--that's when we should be involved. I don't believe in laying on guilt when people don't serve. If I need a long stretch of time to just sit in my backyard and look at the clouds, that doesn't mean I won't ever again be energized to do something in my community. People need to lie fallow sometimes, just as fields do. At those times, they need to be able to depend on the larger community to carry on its work. I see community involvement more as an invitation than an imperative. It's a chance to challenge oneself in ways that can be surprisingly rewarding.

I was partly drawn to become an elected official because the prospect was terrifying. The idea of taking a clear and public stand on complex issues runs counter to my instinct to keep options open and work towards consensus. On the Ukiah City Council there is plenty of discussion ahead of time, but at some point you have to vote "yes" or "no"--it's that clear-cut!
During my campaign, it helped to have clear issues to work for, but it was also critical that people let me know they were supporting me, and not just an aggregate of positions or postures. In practice, if I do my homework on an issue, and bring my brain, my heart and my experience to the discussion, I find it's not all that hard to be decisive. I have taken contrary votes on some issues, yet never felt the others on the council were jerks. It is clear that others have also done their work, and have come to their own honest wisdom. I don't have the whole picture--I only have my piece--but I will argue my position, and listen to theirs. Sometimes we reach consensus, and sometimes it's just in the votes!
I was reading recently that in Venice, in the early Renaissance, they had a lottery system to pick council members from a large pool of eligible citizens. Public servants didn't have a long term but would rotate fairly quickly. Everyone in the community who was eligible could be called to serve in these positions, rather than allowing a select few to hold them through personal attributes or effort. The point they were making was that it put the onus on the citizens to be aware of what was going on, because they could be called to serve at any time as part of their participation in the community. There's something about that system that I really like. If we could have participatory democracy as an appointment, not a profession, I would love it. However, with the current scale of governmental complexity, it's not really feasible.

In Monterey I attended a conference where some presenters were talking about their city bringing in $3.5 million to build a recreation facility and $350,000 for a snack shack at their baseball grounds. We can't relate to that scale of money here. I drive a used car and live in a community that is relatively poor. Ukiah has certain unpolished qualities that are real and valuable. Using the model of simply throwing money at problems--making projects big and pretty--doesn't always address our real needs. To whom are we not listening? I have sometimes felt like an odd ball for encouraging creative alternatives to the traditional formula that "more money equals a better solution." At such times I may think to myself either, "Hey, good for me!" or, "I'm nuts!"

The first time I picked up my mail at City Hall, there was a letter from the governor's office addressed to "The Honorable Kristy Kelly" welcoming me to my new position. This is the standard greeting for elected officials--but the first time I saw it was sobering! I choose to read the honorific not as a statement of fact but as an invitation--a goal for me to keep attaining. In its idealism, it's quite a beautiful thought.
     As cities provide services for people, how do we set things up to hear from people adequately and build rapport with them? The ideal relationship between the citizens and the government is one in which we assess how we are doing with the sacred trust we have been given. Being an honorable politician means taking feedback about whether the results of one's good intent are matching people's expectations. We have been given a certain amount of resources to manage the best we know how. As Ed Koch used to say, "How're we doin'?" The other part is having the openness to actually hear the feedback. That is what builds trust. What I do, what I say and how I act has an impact on other people. I can't be blind to that.
     In public service it is hard to hit the mark reliably, but my goal is to stay oriented to that trust. I like the tension of finding the joy of the ideal while being grounded in the real, with room for adult irony (not cynicism)! This can be played out in so many forms, but for me the company of my fellow travelers makes all the difference.
     Community is not so much something that is, as something that is done-- and it's best done with a light heart and with respect for each other. That more people are calling upon our best, most honorable selves makes this an extraordinary community. I feel blessed to be in such good company.
  Ukiah Vice-Mayor Kristy Kelly is a Marriage, Family and Child Counselor in private practice in Ukiah. She is married to psychologist Kevin Kelly. They have two sons, Patrick and Daniel, who are now attending college.

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