Vaclav Havel died today at the age of 75.

It’s striking that on the day that both Vaclav Havel and Kim Jung Il died, there are few mentions of Havel relative to the 7×24 cable coverage of the predicted chaos of North Korea.

I have long found Havel to be almost a purified symbol of political courage. He was one of only 242 people to sign the Charter 77, a document that set the foundation for the Velvet Revolution itself and, in turn, the collapse of the Soviet Union. He served five years in prison for that signature.

But it was something besides his moral grounding, something less related to any one position or campaign or battle.

Interestingly like Teddy and Franklin Roosevelt, he grew up with wealth and because of it felt a courageous sense of responsibility to demand fairness. It is almost as if–being part of the 1 percent–these leaders could not stomach the moral inconsistency of economic and political inequity for the 99%.

Above all, it was his mistress of words that elevated art and politics into an affair of quiet but fervent action. People found meaning not only in dissent but in cooperation and non violence.

I have long been captivated by Havel’s stories, his journey, his moral grounding and words.

“Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”

“I really do inhabit a system in which words are capable of shaking the entire structure of government, where words can prove mightier than ten military divisions.”

“Even a purely moral act that has no hope of any immediate and visible political effect can gradually and indirectly, over time, gain in political significance.”

“Despite all the political misery I am confronted with every day, it still is my profound conviction that the very essence of politics is not dirty; dirt is brought in only by wicked people. I admit that this is an area of human activity where the temptation to advance through unfair actions may be stronger than elsewhere, and which thus makes higher demands on human integrity. But it is not true at all that a politician cannot do without lying or intriguing. That is sheer nonsense, often spread by those who want to discourage people from taking an interest in public affairs. Of course, in politics, just as anywhere else in life, it is impossible and it would not be sensible always to say everything bluntly. Yet that does not mean one has to lie. What is needed here are tact, instinct and good taste.”

It’s hard not to feel in our day that the political discourse of our time, our nation, our state has been brought low not because we don’t know how to elevate our dialogue but because we are afraid to challenge ourselves to think, act, reflect and stand outside of today’s narrow comfort zone.

Havel stood outside of the comfort zone of complicity. He did not pander to the lowest common denominator: He spoke up to everyone because he treasured their dignity, their intelligence, their dreams and it unleashed a nation to find its own voice.

We are so much more than what we’ve become.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

It’s an honor to announce that between January 2009 and today this blog has received 100,000 visits. (No, my own visits don’t count!) As I’ve mused as a husband, father, entrepreneur and citizen legislator I have attempted to promote a meaningful public dialogue about issues facing real people living real lives in the 36th District, Seattle, our state and nation.

One of my goals has been to challenge the institutional infrastructure of state government to raise its game, to acknowledge the importance of humility in government, the teachable moments that are possible through failure, the dignity and honor of public service, the need for respect, the hunger in our nation for systems change.

For citizens in the 36th District–among the most educated citizens in the state– and across Washington I have attempted to challenge the pathology of political pandering.

All power remains with the public under our Constitution, but that does not absolve a moral and public obligation of elected officials to educate fellow citizens–to challenge you when stale ideas warrant prodding–and not merely to retreat to the lowest common denominator. We elect leaders to think, act, study, assess complex public policies and to educate fellow citizens–not merely to parrot rhetorical slogans that turn a phrase.

The role that I prefer in this forum is to push, prod and agitate for new ideas and change. To question the grip of the status quo inside and outside of government. I attempt to raise authentic issues, to engage with citizens, to ponder ‘systems’ issues that can help us think outside the proverbial box.

I’ve grown and changed a lot since starting this being sworn in as a legislator and beginning this blog. My idealism remains intact and my sense of urgency for change has only grown. My resentment about the power of the bureaucracy and monopolies has grown as well. My concern for our nation’s future has grown exponentially as I consider–and confront– the true implications of the dominance of money in the political arena.

The 99% movement is touching something deep in our country’s hunger for a fair deal. The issue today is not merely whether taxes are too high or low but whether we have so eviscerated our democracy with pandering to voters–a message that everyone can have everything at no cost and a campaign contribution system that undermines us all–without regard to the implications.

The relationship between direct and representative democracy is also a victim of today’s system. Initiatives are seen as pure democratic messages when, in fact, they are highly sophisticated financial and political operations that make The Candidate look sincere.

My views are, obviously, both unedited and unpolished. I write frequently late at night, early in the morning or even scribble notes while walking to my downtown business office.

There are some members of the Legislature who find direct public dialogue of a personal blog distasteful. I’ve been ribbed by some as a media hound, something I find interesting because the only thing stopping other members from blogging is $24 a year and a willingness to engage with words by producing original content.

I have had a few conversations in the corners of the House and Senate chambers where colleagues told me they found a particular post inappropriate either because I revealed too much of the inside game or came too close to some political line written in a different era. I accept that criticism to a point. In the early days some said with a hint of both concern and intimidation, “now don’t go blogging about this but…” But I also know that if some of those legislators were more engaged in the power of social media–the activism of yesterday fueled with today’s technology–they would be closer to Goldy or The Shark than they might imagine.

With so few reporters left covering Olympia, isn’t there today a higher obligation of legislators than in the past to engage in a courageously honest public conversation about real issues? To expose inefficiency? To challenge old ideas? To question authority? To ponder issues and ideas more openly?

An extensive search of blogs by state legislators around the nation suggests, informally and without hard data, that this is one of the most widely read blogs by a state legislator. The daily hit rate now ranges from 100-700 visits. I post once, twice or more a week.

I try and honor your visit by saying something real.

In the time that I’ve attempted to bring a sense of ‘courageous honesty’ to our public dialogue, I have also learned a great deal from you. Readers have made numerous comments and sent untold emails to me privately. I remain proud that my blog also has been granted an elevated status by the state House administration to maintain a direct link from my official legislative site because I have religiously avoided any campaign-related statements. I have also made disclosures of any financial or other interests that are material to readers’ knowledge and perspective.

I particularly appreciate the hundreds of public employees who contribute ideas, thoughts, criticisms and comments about how to make the opportunity and challenge of public service more effective and engaged.

In the coming days and weeks I will repost some of my favorite muses. Let me know if you have any you think are worth a second look.

Thank you so very much for 100,000 visits!

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

Last week in the House Ways & Means Committee we held an emotional hearing about the serious ramifications of proposed budget cuts on small, critical care hospitals in primarily rural areas. From Sunnyside to Willapa, Dayton to Othello, the impact could be devastating given that Medicaid reimbursements could fall by half. The lost state dollars trigger losses in federal matching dollars as well putting many of these facilities in serious financial hardship.

Twenty nine Republican House members and three Democrats recently signed a letter to the Governor making the case why House Bill 2130 should be defeated. The bill, an essential piece of the state budget work in the Special Session, would eliminate Medicaid cost-based reimbursement to the state’s Critical Access Hospitals, a move that would severly impact rural communities. It would potentially reduce reimbursement from Olympia by more than $50 million but those cuts also trigger losses in federal matching dollars so the net hit is doubled.

The impassioned letter was signed by representatives of rural communities statewide. The somber anxiety on the faces of CEOs of these small hospitals was deeply moving. The fear that some these communities could lose their small hospitals is palpable.

Critical Access Hospitals have fewer than 25 inpatient beds, provide 24 hour emergency services, serve rural areas and are long distances from the next closest hospital. There are 38 such of these hospitals representing 40 percent of the total hospitals in the state and serving two-thirds of the area of the state, according to the letter.

And yet.

Once again–like levy equalization and other programs designed to mitigate the effects of rural and property-poor communities– the issue serves as a powerfully symbolic representation of the philosophical inconsistency of those who generically claim government spending is out of control while at the same time seeking funding for local priority projects.

While these legislators argue strenuously, valiantly and understandably against these cuts, some of them have also signed an anti-tax pledge to resist any and all new revenues under any circumstances regardless of the public value of public services. Many of them have made fierce political arguments that government spending is out of control in Olympia and dramatic even radical cuts must be made. Many of these signatory legislators make the case that health care costs for Medicaid–a central driver of the increasing costs in state government–are ‘out of control.’

And so we are faced, once again, with the philosophical inconsistency by which at the rhetorical political level government spending is eviscerated as irresponsible while at the tangible level it is seen as extremely valuable for the economic, social and educational survival of rural communities.

Critical Access Hospitals play a vital role in access to affordable health care. I strongly support them and hope we can find a source of revenue to continue such reimbursements. Ironically, the largest provider of Medicaid services in the state is Harborview, a Seattle-based regional treasure that many of these same legislators have no compunction to cut.

I have argued publicly for a courageously honest public conversation about how tax dollars flow, who pays and who benefit, and what type of state we wish to be. I do this not to arrogantly throw elbows against subsidies for rural communities but to challenge the anti-government, anti-tax, anti-public service rhetoric of those who pretend that such philosophical inconsistency is sustainable.

I do this to attempt to genuinely educate the public about the true cost of asking for disproportionately higher public spending in education, health care, transportation, capital budgets and so much more all the while sending legislators to Olympia who prioritize anti-tax pledges to Washington, D.C.-based anti-government organizations.

If, as some argue, we have a massive state budget deficit because spending from Olympia is out of control, we have that deficit in large because we can no longer sustain an unbalanced status quo by which only 6 primarily urban counties are ‘net contributor’ of taxes while 33 primarily rural are ‘net recipient’ counties.

Our rural communities are part of the soul of our state’s glorious history and residents deserve the same quality education and health care that urban communities receive. I am not troubled by the massively unbalanced subsidy of tax dollars from state government to rural areas, I am troubled by the disingenuous political arguments of those who pretend those subsidies don’t exist and prioritize anti-tax pledges above all else.

We are so much more than what we’ve become.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

The juxtaposition of Thanksgiving alongside the chill winter rain had me in a melancholy and gray mood ponderous of the challenges I’ll face next week as a member of the Ways & Means Committee in the Special Session of the Legislature to deal with budget cuts.

Amidst a quiet day I stumbled upon this video from the students of Renton Technical College and my day was transformed. The music lifted me up, the message stirred me and I felt invigorated to tackle our challenges anew.

For whatever reason–the pent up stress, the anxiety of traveling to Olympia leaving Wendy to manage the household alone, the time-sensitive issues around my day job in software–came rushing out and the tears streamed from my face as I saw a reflection in the mirror in the video. I could imagine the hours spent preparing the script, music, production, schedule and roles. I could envision myself behind the camera organizing such a quiet, dignified lobbying effort that speaks more elegantly than any lobbyist dinner.

I had the honor of serving on the State Board for Community and Technical Colleges, one of the first appointments made by Gov. Gregoire after her contested election in 2004. My term on the board was invigorating, exciting, interesting and painfully frustrating. At times the lethargy of the institutional infrastructure is enraging and the resistance to change overwhelming, but through amazing, dedicated service at 34 college statewide–and a tremendous Olympia team–by thousands of instructors and administrators the lives of people are transformed through hands-on training, workforce development, ESL, adult basic education and academic transfer programs.

Because of my impatience I was not always the easiest board member, but I did what I could to push, prod and agitate for progressive reforms of the institutional infrastructure. I learned a great deal and tried to contribute. I wish that my frustration was more contained but, alas, that is from the fierce ‘urgency of now’ to see meaningful change that burns within my soul. My colleague Scott White, and others who are skilled in the art of patience and subtly, had a type of internal cooling system that I do not possess yet so admire.

My commitment to building the community and technical college system remains unmovable and I treasure the experience that such service gave me. While I often make loud public noises about many issues, the most productive work I’ve done centers around a number of important initiatives in higher education, notably the open course library initiative outlined here, and local tuition setting authority for our four year institutions.

We must invest in public education, it is the solution to our national challenges and the path forward. There is not an elected official from Barack Obama and Newt Gingrich to Jay Inslee and Rob McKenna–and myself–who has not uttered some version of those words. But when do we decide to live it, to believe it, to act upon it? When does it become our strategy forward and not merely a sales pitch?

On the 2012 campaign trail and in Olympia now there is substantive discussion about a major transportation package, a major jobs package, a major revenue package. But at the heart of our strategy should be a courageous next generation GI Bill for Education so that every person in our state can access the opportunity of life-long learning. Let’s double down on our higher education system. Let’s spend money. Let’s invest. Let’s be the state where the idea of world-class education is so much more than rhetoric, so much more accessible and viable than we allow today.

Renton Technical College students and hundreds of thousands more across our state: I hear the small, still voice of your lobbying and the thunderous impact is reaching Olympia.

We are so much more as a state and nation than what we’ve become.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

It is standard fair for most of us to walk through the haze of holidays without making much effort to go deeper, to reflect harder, to connect with the more personally relevant meaning. The rampant commercialism of our society erodes our sense of spirituality with a reckless abandon and flippancy that is astonishing in scope.

This year I am grateful for the opportunity to enjoy the love and health of my wife and children, the wonder of community, the dignity of public service and so much more. Each and every day I strive to appreciate all that I have been given, all that I’ve been lucky enough to discover, all of the dreams that I’ve realized in this journey.

And yet, this year, in facing the loss of my friend Scott White it is difficult for those positive feelings to overcome the awful pain of deep sadness.

I find myself reflecting upon Scott’s death not only through the eyes of parent and friend but as a citizen of the world. It is not only that he was likely headed for much higher office, but that he himself had talents yet undiscovered to accomplish so much as a husband, father, public official and citizen.

Alison White, at Scott’s moving memorial service, spoke eloquently of the interplay between his public and private lives, the force of his personality and the intellectual gymnastics that he enjoyed about real issues. Her ability to lead 2,000 grieving people through a memorial service was beyond touching–it was a moment of such spiritual and emotional dignity and strength that I found myself unable to remain settled or contained in my resentment at why it was necessary. His death feels so bitter, so angry, as if God wanted to throw a fierce storm of rage at the world to remind everyone of the importance of feeling gratitude for what we have.

“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues but the parent of all the others.” Cicero.

I feel gratitude this year for what I have, who I am and the values I strive to live everyday. My sensitivities and emotional connection to that appreciation is made starker, more tender, more nuanced and softer by the loss of a friend.

May your Thanksgiving bring you joy, love and the blessings of gratitude.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

My dear friend:

There are no words to express the sense of loss that Wendy, the children and I feel at your stunning death. There are no routine press statements or common political refrains that can touch the soul of how I feel. I mourn not as your colleague in the state legislature but as a husband and father of young children.

There are no answers or explanations. There is only the dark chill of pain that runs through my heart as I reflect upon the journey faced by your wonderful wife, children and family during this most unfathomable time.

In 2008 you and I would call, text and email everyday as we both struggled in our first political campaigns. You were the consummate insider and professional with vast experience in both the policy and political aspects of running for office. I was so impressed and even at times intimidated with the depth of your political acumen. Nearly everyday we would do so much more than compare notes and strategize operationally, we would give each other the deeply personal moral support that a first-time candidate needs in a titanic battle.

We arrived in Olympia together, part of an unusually united and passionate “class of 2008,” and began our journey of public life with awe and appreciation for the opportunity to serve. You always showed so much respect for the institution of public service itself.

You had the fine tuned skill of a professional public servant not merely because of your vast experience in public life at a young age but because of your deep conviction to stand for the people’s right to good government.

You were the best of the noble ideal and dignity of community service.

As the headlines fade and the numbness subsides, I pray that you will know that your family, friends and community treasured the opportunity to know and love you.

You will not be forgotten.

Your family is not alone.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

Dr. Hutchison, Mrs. Magnuson, Sen. Magnuson

As a troubled 15-year-old kid from Bellingham, I was struggling to find my way amidst personal and family chaos. With a stroke of good fortune and arguably divine intervention, I won the lottery of life through an opportunity to serve as a page in the U.S. Senate for the distinguished Sen. Warren G. Magnuson. I would literally become the youngest, smallest, most inconsequential yet grateful ‘bumblebee‘ in the famed Magnuson family. My opportunity came about in large part because Mrs. Jermaine Magnuson unsubtly ‘encouraged’ her husband to make it so.

Mrs. Magnuson passed away at her Queen Anne home this weekend.

I owe a world of personal, professional, business and political success to Mrs. Magnuson because she invested a smile, kind gesture and word to a kid who desperately needed it. At a Bellingham fundraising event for Sen. Magnuson in the 1980 campaign I found her enjoying the view of the garden. I mustered up the courage to introduce myself and ask for her advice about becoming a page in Washington, D.C. I knew of the opportunity after having enjoyed two weeks as a page in the Washington State House of Representatives the year earlier. After hearing my story, she promptly took my hand and walked over to Sen. Magnuson who was entertaining a long line of supporters with a variety of stories. “Warren, this young man wants to be a page for you and I’d like you to strongly consider it,” she said with no hint of subtly.

As only a wonderfully naive and brash 15 year old can pull off, I sat down on the footstool of his large chair–looking him directly in the eyes–and made my pitch: “Senator, I’d like to ask for your sincere consideration to serve as your page. I’ll work hard, won’t get in trouble, will study and be responsible but most of all I’ll do everything I can to succeed if you’ll just give me this chance. I’ve volunteered on your campaign, served as a state House page and am a pretty good student. Please give me this chance. I won’t let you down.” It was everything I had. I felt, on the deepest spiritual level despite my lack of seasoning, that much of my future direction hinged on this pitch. Something inside clicked, telling me as a teenager that this mattered more than I would know. He looked at me for what seemed like a long time and said: “Ok kid, I’ll think about it.”

My mother’s emotional struggles at the time combined with our financial situation and the normal chaos of teenager rage forced me to make a bold move. I had absolutely no choice but to leave. I just didn’t know whether it would be to the streets or to the page desk of the United States Senate.

I received a call a few weeks later instructing me to be in Washington, D.C. that Saturday. I was 15 and a sophomore by a few weeks. I packed my bag, took every penny I had from a bank account, checked out of Sehome High School, purchased a one way ticket and informed my mother that I was leaving for Washington, D.C. Later, after Sen. Magnuson lost his re-election, I spent untold hours with him, Mrs. Magnuson, aide and mentor Featherstone Reid and others helping to pack up their personal items for shipment back home to Seattle. I would bring a pile of books, materials or other items to Sen. Magnuson who sat in his favorite chair delivering instructions. “Now that little thing was a gift from LBJ,” seemed to be his most common refrain.

In one of the single most impactful and dramatic moments of my life, on the final day he was in the Chamber of the United States Senate, Sen. Magnuson said goodbye to his colleagues–Ted Kennedy, George McGovern, Barry Goldwater, Howard Baker, Scoop Jackson, Birch Baye, Daniel Inouye, Ted Stevens–following their remarks about his lifetime of service. As he quietly left the full, somber, silent Chamber, I stood and held open the door for him to leave the distinguished room for the last time. Much to the embarrassment of my fellow pages and the discomfort of staff I cried forcefully and indelicately in my confusion and deep sadness. Sen. Magnuson stopped as I held the door for him, patted me on the shoulder and said, “thank you, Reuven, you’re a good kid.” And he walked out of the Chamber. He literally did not look back.

Mrs. Magnuson, indefatigable and gracious press aide Gretchen Bakamis, Featherstone Reid and others told me years later that the night Sen. Magnuson was defeated he privately made a list of people whom he wanted Scoop, Tom Foley and others to assist. He put my name on the list.

All that I treasure in this life–healthy relationships with my wife Wendy, our four children, my mother, family, friends, my business career and the opportunity to serve our community–are possible in large part because I found a path that worked. I arrived in Washington, D.C. a frightened, anxious, pained and lost 15 year old and left a more thoughtful, engaged, generous and stable 18 year old who had the grounding to succeed in college and life. That journey would not have been as smooth, safe or supported had it not been for the kindness of Mrs. Jermaine Magnuson.

Sometimes the smallest gestures can change a life.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

PS. The U.S. House of Representatives recently announced the cancellation of the page program to save $5 million a year. After two years in the Senate and one year in the House, I mourn the loss of this program that serves as a generator of civic engagement for so many young people. Each year I treasure the opportunity to sponsor teenagers to serve as pages in the state House of Representatives. I see my own journey through their eyes.

Take a risk and join me today for a philosophical conversation. It may seem too theoretical and it may fall flat on its tush. But I intend to take the risk of outlining an approach to how I believe state government must think and act to be relevant in the years to come in this and future posts.

One of the reasons the public’s distrust of government is so high is because government as a large, complex institution has lost a sense of nimble connection to how people engage with their daily world.

Today real people living real lives embrace radical openness, often even without knowing it. The issue is to find ways for government to understand this movement and to embrace it.

Radical openness is not a shallow catch phrase or dangerous political movement, it’s a profoundly important philosophical foundation and way of being. It’s a window into how young people think, act and choose. It’s user-powered, local decision-making over one-size-fits-all thinking.

Radical openness is the core idea that our world faces two paths: The first is our current status quo thinking of large institutions: Closed systems, proprietary, commercially-narrow, expensive, hardware, silos, controlled content, vertically-focused, top down, hierarchical, static, secure, methodical, established, structured.

The second camp: Open, standards-based, software, peer-to-peer, sharing, risk, publicly available, free, user-driven content, interactive, impatient, chaotic, disorganized, real time, customized, localized, personalized.

Beyond technology trends, this philosophical underpinning has an impact on consumers, business, finance, government, taxpayers, beneficiaries, students, educators, philathropists, entrpereneurs and nearly everyone else.

Radical openness is about power and control. Who has it, who seeks it and who decides. The Arab Spring is an embrace of the power of radical openness as much as Facebook and Twitter. Self-publishing books, music and artwork is about radical openness as much as Kindle Fire and iPads. TED is radical openness to the point that it is the theme of the 2012 conference.

TED’s definition of Radical Openness:

“All bets are off as to what openness and collaboration in an ultra-connected world will mean for human potential. Traditional top-down models of organization no longer reflect reality. Social capital and influence are becoming stronger currencies than hierarchy and formal power. New, collaborative ways of creating meaning and things are developing at fast pace. Only one thing appears certain: Secrecy is no longer bankable: impact is. The future will be built on great ideas, and for that, great ideas need to circulate freely, broadly and openly.”

By its very nature state government is terrified by radical openness. All monopolies and concentrations of power fear the disequilibrium of the distributed and decentralization of power. And, equally intimidating, the risks to the incumbent people and systems inherent in driving forward with this approach outweigh the perceived benefits. None of this is to suggest that the private sector has this right, only that they have no other choice but to hear the clamor from customers and users for radical openness. I would argue that for government to connect to real people living real lives–students, educators, farmers, small businesspeople–it needs to embrace radical openness.

Olympia is on a journey toward radical openness. It just doesn’t know it.

In the coming days I will outline examples of radical openness that can help transform state government. From Socrata to Open Educational Resources, mileage-based taxation of transportation to local taxing authority, cloud computing to closing tax exemptions and much more.

Are you into radical openness?

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

Rosh Hashana, the second holiest day of the Jewish liturgical year, begins Wednesday evening. Our family has our close friends joining us as we step into a more reflective, appreciative and spiritual place.

I am so grateful and appreciative of the opportunity to enjoy the blessings of Rosh Hashana during a time in the world when many families from Seattle to London, Tel Aviv to Beijing continue to struggle. For me there is great value personally and professionally in pausing from the hectic, frantic world of my business as well as legislation, budgets and difficult policy decisions. Simply to be present and quiet.

The meaning of Rosh Hashana is to turn away from darkness toward the light, to feel the beauty of life everyday through appreciation, to recognize the opportunity to be a better person, to be the change we seek in ourselves and our world. To see G-d in all. To bring about the repair of the world.

In Seattle, a most secular city by any standard, I find myself saddened once again by the uncomfortable reality that we have gone so far to the extreme in our lack of connection to anything religious that many public and private organizations have scheduled important events on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.

As a member of a tiny minority of less than 0.7 percent of our population, I am of course appreciative that the Jewish holidays do not take precedence in any fashion. However, this year it feels especially disconnected in terms of the lack of awareness of the importance of these holidays to the Jewish community.

Ballard High School’s homecoming begins as Yom Kippur ends; Planned Parenthood’s major event is on Rosh Hashana; Seattle Public Schools’ has numerous events at various schools including Salmon Bay; and many other events. It’s a difficult lesson for our own children to learn yet it is our reality.

But the beauty and holiness of Rosh Hashana, the sunlight of a new year, the warmth and dignity of family, friends and community, the opportunity to start anew, overcome all such inconveniences.

Finally, it is also an important and personal obligation for all people of Jewish faith–including me– to ask for forgiveness during the 10 days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Given my public role in elected office, I hope those of you whom I may have offended or hurt through my actions, votes, words or deeds, will grant me your forgiveness. It’s an honor to be of service to our community. I appreciate your graciousness in acknowledging that I am, of course, a real person living a real life and failure is as much a part of public service as success. Allowing our elected officials the room to stumble, learn and grow is, in a meaningful sense, the beauty of our citizen legislature.

To my Jewish friends: L’ shanah tovah u’metukah – a happy, sweet New Year! May you be inscribed in the Book of Life! To all others, my genuine blessing to you and your family!

Your partner in service,

Reuven.

Plaque at the base of Space Needle

Next year is the 50th Anniversary of the 1962 Seattle World Fair. As I reflect upon the impact on our city and state with the amazing Pacific Science Center, Space Needle, Center Fountain, Monorail and more, I find myself thinking more systematically about the community jewel as a deeper representation of the challenge and opportuity of building a bolder vision for our city.

What would a courageous, bold, fiercely alive vision for Seattle’s public infrastructure look like for the next 100 years?

Scientific American magazine this month has an extraordinary dialogue about the future of urbanism and intelligent city design, community oriented transportation, energy and living and efficient operations. They use Seattle as an interesting example in a handful of important categories. Still, the great danger is complacency with respect to our own belief that we have a coordinated strategy. We don’t. We have much planning and development underway but it’s hard to argue that it’s strategically organized.

The Port of Seattle has a standard planning exercise to examine potential uses of Pier 91 and the area around Interbay. The Seattle Center has a Master Plan to explore bold uses of this community resource that attracts a million visitors a year in art, music, culture and society. The city and state have an energetic, exciting and enthusiastic planning effort underway to explore the dream of an open waterfront to rival the great cities of the world. Vulcan, the Gates Foundation, PATH, Amgen and the biotech and biomedical communities are building a global health and wellness cluster throughout the broader Interbay and South Lake Union region. Sen. Patty Murray secured federal TIGER grants to lead funding to redevelop Mercer Street from a mess to a world-class boulevard whose neighbors include Amazon, University of Washington Medical Center and more. The western portion of Mercer Avenue sits idle waiting for additional dollars. Each of these and more struggle for time, attention and resources. Most of these face the battle of gaining attention from city hall, Olympia, Washington, D.C. and private funders alone. They are, of course, part of a broader system that makes up our economy and public infrastructure but they are treated in isolation from public policy makers.

The obvious question: Are we trapped in our separate silos of thinking? Why do we allow each of these planning endeavors to exist in isolation, without a more strategic approach to pace, funding, public and private sector funding partnerships, budgets and prioritization?

We need a much more courageous and publicly transparent strategy to build Seattle’s future public infrastructure.

The issue is not simply one of building roads, bridges and waterfronts but a culture of innovation in a 21st Century community. We have an extraordinary, genuine chance to link well planned and successful density with top tier jobs in science, e-commerce, medicine and more. And we can do all of this not with as an after-thought to our struggling economy but in partnership with our state’s long-term economic and socials need.

We are presented with historic opportunities of unprecedented proportions as we struggle in today’s economy. At a time when the people of our city face increased pressures of our national economy, and our state ponders the weight of a consumption-based tax structure, now is the time to seize the opportunity of this crisis and present a bolder approach.

My purpose here is not to propose a new tax for the latest public works project. I merely suggest a radical sense of prioritization around building a broader, more systematic strategy for the wide range of projects underway that all have profoundly important statewide implications. I hope to respectfully suggest not a new program but a new attitude. We are spending billions of local, state and federal tax dollars. Companies and non profits are investing in these areas. Surely we can form stronger partnerships to do it more effectively and efficiently.

There is a modest plaque at the base of the Space Needle with the names of city and state leaders who held a vision in 1962 for the coming out of Seattle in the World’s Fair. Next year the city will host a six month celebration of that journey. Everyday I walk past that plaque on my morning and evening walk from Queen Anne to my company office downtown and home again. Everyday I find myself pondering the questions, “why are we so cautious in our civic engagement today?” “How can we find the courage to seize the opportunity of this crisis?” “If not now, when?”

We often joke about the old timers and the politics of yesterday. But Warren Magnuson and Eddie Carlson challenge us anew.

We are so much more as a city and state than what we’ve become.

Your partner in service,

Reuven.