Axar.az presents an article “Reflections On A Year” by John Samuel Tieman.

I'm 75. Of the things that I didn't think would happen in my old age, I didn't think I'd fall in love with my hometown. A year ago, I was elected to the City Council in University City, an inner-ring suburb of St. Louis. A year that feels like a year, feels like a hundred years and feels like yesterday – all at the same time.

What follows is a list of very personal reflections. I look back upon the last year in four different ways. There's stuff I expected. There's stuff I didn't expect. There's stuff I think of rationally. There's stuff I think of emotionally.

I expected that the job would be time-consuming. I spend part of every day doing work for the Council. Many days I spend all day doing Council work. Constituent services take the most time. I can spend hours on the phone. I frequently drive or walk to a home or neighborhood to survey and discuss. Most governments meet periodically. Municipal governments meet continuously. The City Council meets twice a month. I meet with commissions three times a month. I have a monthly meeting with our City Manager. And those are just the formal meetings. Informal and ad hoc consultations happen all the time.

I also expected there to be a lot of reading. I receive my reading for an upcoming Council meeting on the Friday proceeding that Monday meeting I have come to consider 100 pages of reading to be modest. I've read 900 pages. I turn every page.

Then there's stuff I didn't expect. I used to think the way most people do. When most people think of politics, they fix on the high-profile debate, the controversial vote. Perhaps 95% of my work isn't dramatic. Getting stripes pained on a street. A sidewalk needs repair. I connect this constituent with that service. Even that controversial vote is preceded by committee work, chatting with constituents, reading reports.

I'm accustomed to jobs that require specialization. City Council requires generalization. Pensions, conditional use permits, parking meter repair and purchase, public art, stormwater, parks. Who has to pay for chopping down that tree, the city or the homeowner? Every week there is new learning. Clearing ice from the streets, there's a subject they didn't cover when I was studying medieval history in graduate school. What does a fire truck cost?

Then there's stuff I think of rationally. I spend a lot of time thinking, reading and writing about the practice of local government. My weekly columns are often essays on that subject. I spend days reading laws and commentaries upon laws. Because the national and state governments abnegate responsibility for dealing with climate change, that moral obligation falls to the county and the city. Building codes, sustainability, energy efficiency, energy standards, environmental responsiveness, solar panels, I spend a lot of time reading and meeting about these things. How do we deal with the fact that funds for environmental issues are frozen? I also read Cicero, Thomas More, John Quincy Adams, others. I carry a copy of the Constitution.

Then there's stuff I think of emotionally. I'm lucky. I live in a “blue dot”. While the country around me has gotten uglier and crueler, my town is normal. I like and respect our Mayor and my fellow Council Members. I like and respect the civil servants with whom I work. Constituent services are surprisingly intimate. I like that. Municipal government is the most intimate level of the republic. I share the same zip code with folks in my ward. I regularly meet with constituents at a neighborhood restaurant. I like to meet at the outdoor patio.

But MAGA has made my country crueler, uglier. As just one example, I worry about immigrants. Way across town, outside my “blue dot”, I had a morning appointment concerning services to seniors in my town. I was way early, so I stopped to get a bagel. I held the door for two Middle Eastern women who wore the hijab. As things turned out, I sat catty-corner one table away from them. Next to me were two American white women. As the Muslim women walked by, the American women sniffed and got up to leave. One rolled her eyes and said, “In my church, we only allow Aryans.” I didn't say anything because it took some minutes to convince myself that I actually heard what I clearly heard. By which time they were gone. When I got home, I cried. I was upset for the rest of the day. If I, this Christian, this City Councilman, could add just one commandment to The Good Book, that law would be this – “Thou shalt not bury thy neighbor alive.”

Another upsetting thing. I am pained by the contempt sometimes aimed at politicians. “All politicians are incompetent and dishonest.” You hear it all the time. I don't mind being critiqued. Nor do I mind anger. I expect anger. Anger can be useful. I mind the contempt. I mind it when folks are rude simply because I'm a politician. A speaker may have good ideas. But I have to work to hear the good when that person begins by belittling, demeaning and degrading me. It's worth repeating that it's not the critique that I mind. I'm pained by the contempt. I don't want respect because I'm elected. I want respect because I'm human. And I don't stuff my feelings. When it hurts, it hurts.

I enjoy my new job. I enjoy being the village elder. I enjoy the purely ceremonial stuff. I enjoy being the “distinguished guest”. I enjoy public speaking.

The job has made me far more reflective. Indeed, it has made me far more prayerful. Old fashioned as it may sound, I've deepened my sense of duty.

I'm good at the job. I have been of some service to my community. The hard part is not taking a position. The hard part is not knowing how to vote. The hard part is telling if I am doing any good.

Above all else, however, there's this. There are many things that I didn't think would happen in my old age. For starters, I didn't think I'd fall in love with my hometown.