Over at the N&R's Inside Scoop blog, reporter/blogger Mark Binker 'splains the paper's coverage of Commissioner Mike Barber's efforts (PDF file via N&R) to get the Commissioners and the School Board to work together in order to head off additional violence in our schools.  The blog entry is an addendum to this morning's coverage of the issue.

Mark admits, both in the article and in his Scoop post, that heralding Barber's efforts this close to the election could be taken as buying into a campaign ploy and "that talking about the high profile issue of the moment could just be a tactic to get his name in the paper."  Whatever.

In my opinion, the bigger story would be if all of the Commissioners just sat on their hands and acted as if they had no stake in what is occurring in our schools.  They do... and they did.  The Commissioners denied the schools over $1M in funding this year that was requested to institute programs designed to mitigate student conflicts, so there is plenty of blame to share among both Boards.

The article correctly points out that the Commissioners can find pots of money laying around when they are motivated to do so.  Six votes can uncover big troves of money, even when the County manager states, "there will be no new nothing", as then County Manager Roger Cotton declared during his budget presentation in 2002.  Despite such a statement, Binkers's article reminds us that the County was able to uncover a spare $4.5M to build a new Social Services building in the baseball stadium Land Swap deal that year.

Today's article states that Barber has at least one other vote to count on should the Commissioners be asked for "stop the violence" funding.  My girl Mary Rakestraw.

Note to Commissioners and School Board: Get this thing done.  We have traveled too far down the year's path to start any touchy-feely conflict resolution classes in our middle and high schools.  Find the kids who are doing the really bad stuff and get them the hell out of our schools so those who are there to learn can get on with it.

Where do we put them?  At this point, I don't really care - just get them gone.

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I have spent most of my life on a stage.  Beginning with piano recitals at 6, my first band (The Uptight Society) performed for a high school homecoming dance when I was in 6th grade, in high school I came off the football field... changed clothes... then played keyboards and sang for many dances - both home and away.  It continued during college as I played piano bars around Bowling Green, Ky for many years then toured the Pacific with a USO group.  On it went after that when the musical instrument company I worked for sponsored and promoted national acts.  Hell, I even used to have my own golf cart to go between stages at Merlefest.   

All of this is to say, I've spent a lot of time on stage and backstage.  I find the music sounds much better out front, however.  So, even though I continue to get (or make) opportunities to hang around backstage, I usually stay in the audience but Jinni and the kids like the view and sound from behind the amps and drums.

My Jinni has been known as "Backstage Jinni" since she and I hooked up all those years ago.  She revels in having "full access" and schmoozing with the artists. So, as the kids grew up they, too, developed a taste for the unmixed sound of bands and the feeling of privilege that comes with one of these "All Access" badges hanging around their necks.

I'll never forget - one year up at Merlefest - Bela Fleck and the Flecktones were doing their thing.  Son Jack was probably 8 or so and sitting on one of those old church pews they had on stage, taking it all in.  FutureMan, the band's "drummer", kept bringing Jack up front and giving him "high fives" in front of the many thousand fans - it makes an impression on a young mind.

I tell you all that to help you better relate to what occured yesterday at ZoneFest.

Jinni and friends stayed on the hill across from WMS on blankets sipping adult beverages, but Jesse (10 years) and I went on in.  We hung around the pitcher's mound  behind the sound mixing tents, but I could tell he just wasn't into it.  "Where do you want to go, Jesse", I asked.  "Right here's fine, Dad", he lied.  He kept inching forward, then retreating back to the Cheerwine tent to get a soda during the first acts.

Each time he'd go away and come back, he'd end up closer to the front until finally we were right next to the stage.  All that was separating him from backstage nirvana was a fence made of plastic, and it sagged lower and lower each time he "accidentally" leaned on it.

Finally I just said, "Go on back if you want".  "But I don't have a pass", said the budding schmoozer. "Just go on... you're ten years old", I told him as Better than Ezra was opening their set,  "They're not going to lock you up.  The worst that will happen is they'll ask you to leave."  He stepped over the plastic and went on back smiling like a 'possum.

By the time Ezra was through playing, Jesse had become a fixture back there.  He instinctly knew to make nice with the big security guys with the radios in their ears - he had them in the palm of his hand in about fifteen minutes.  Once they were befriended he came and went - to and from the Cheerwine tent back to where the musicians were hanging out - like he belonged there - which, of course, he did.

By the time the last band, Five for Fighting, was taking the stage, Jesse was up there with them taking it all in right behind the lead guitarist.  He and Ezra's bass player, Tom Drummond, were talking about music.  The t-shirt Jesse was wearing was a testament to his sense of backstage entitlement.  It was covered in autographs.

After the music stopped I went back to fetch Jesse.  I found him in the middle of a group of autograph seekers surrounding Five for Fighting's very talented lead, John Odrasik.  "Come on Jesse, time to go."  Odrasik handed Jesse the Sharpie he was using to sign autographs and said, "Here's your pen, Jesse... thanks.", thereby stopping the autograph session until they could locate another Sharpie.

As we left, we walked by a bunch of fans lined up behind Jesse's new friends - the big security men with radios in their ears.  The throng was hoping to get behind the stage for a Sharpie autograph.  Passing by the hopeful fans, I said to some of them, "Just go on back, all they can do is ask you to leave."

They looked at me like I was crazy.  Jesse turned to me after we passed the on-lookers and said, "They just don't get it."

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