“Bate, you gotta run. Seriously.”

by Jonathan Goolsby,

A few months back, my phone rang. I saw it was my friend, Andy Bateman.

Normally, we’ll just text; if he was calling, he had something important to say, so naturally I picked right up.

The usual buddy chit-chat, then the crux:

“I’m thinking about running for Loveland city council. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking about running for Loveland city council. What do you think?”

“I think you’d be a great candidate, Bateman,” I said.

And I meant it, too.

Before I tell you why I think so, I want to be up front about something, because I don’t want there to be any appearance of impropriety: I don’t live in the city of Loveland right now.

My folks do, and many of my friends do, so I maintain a deep interest in what goes on economically, socially, politically — heck, even on the high school ballfield — in my hometown.

And, for some time now, I’ve been thinking about moving back.

Like a lot of people my age, who grew up in Loveland, all I ever wanted to do was get out and see other, bigger places.

Well, now I’ve seen ‘em. Lived in a few. And I’ve learned that there’s absolutely something to be said for coming back home to the tranquil, gorgeous Little Miami Valley.

I’m still somewhat active in the Loveland Stage Company. I visit my parents and my friends out there once every couple of weeks or so. I hit up the Whippy Dip. Sometimes, I work from the Starbucks out on Loveland-Madeira.

But when I read and hear about strife and incivility in council chambers — between councilmembers, between councilmembers and the citizens they serve, and yes, between citizens themselves — I think twice about that yielding to that homeward pull.

I don’t like seeing my people at each other’s throats. And if that’s the way folks are gonna operate on a day-in, day-out basis, well, you can count me out. I value my serenity.

But I don’t think I have a monopoly on that.

I think most folks value peace and positive cooperation. It’s just that tensions have been running high — not only in Loveland, but throughout our nation — and people are trapped in cycles of frantic reactivity, when they should be fostering measured, rational proactivity. 

They’ve forgotten to listen to each other. They’ve become convinced that government should be a zero-sum game.

“But Andy Bateman isn’t that kind of guy.”

But Andy Bateman isn’t that kind of guy.

How do I know? He and I have been great friends for over 20 years. And friendships don’t last that long if one or the other party is intractably rigid.

“So, you know about everything that’s been going on with Council, right?,” he asked me.

“Lord, yes.”

I was shaking my head on the other end of the line. He knew I was, too, because he sort of chuckled.

“That’s why I want to run. I want to listen to people.”

Now, pause and let that sink in for a minute:

“How many thirtysomethings volunteer with their local historical societies? How many go to city council meetings? How many still use the library for something other than Facebooking?”

A candidate who believes his primary responsibility on Council would be to listen.

Not to preach. Not to adhere to one ideology or another. Not to talk down to people he doesn’t completely agree with. Not to ram pet projects through without regard to other peoples’ feelings.

To listen to people.

And to take what he hears and use that to shape his decision-making. To act conscientiously, candidly and respectfully.

Good night, are we talking about actual democracy here?

“Yeah, man, I just think that people don’t listen to each other enough. I think there’s a real need for it here.”

“Bate, you gotta run. Seriously.”

“I am. I just wanted to know if you thought it was a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea. And I think others will, too.”

Look, I get it. He’s my friend. Maybe you think I’m just making an impassioned plea to you on his behalf on that lone basis.

Sure, Andy Bateman and I played in the Loveland High School marching band together. We acted in the same school plays. We ate lunch at the same cafeteria table nearly every day (and I can assure you, he was just as interested in local history, politics and service to other back then — it’s what he talked about).

We ran around town making silly video projects, driving maybe a bit too fast, listening to music maybe a bit too loud. Like most small-town kids, we raised a bit of good-natured, light-hearted hell in our time.

“But having watched Andy grow up — and having grown up with him — over the past 20 years, I can tell you that he has rare qualities.”

But having watched Andy grow up — and having grown up with him — over the past 20 years, I can tell you that he has rare qualities.

He has a candid, open nature. If you talk with him, he’s consistently interested in knowing what you’re thinking, but he’ll tell you what he’s thinking, too. And you’ll know what he’s telling you is the truth.

He’s flexible. I’ve never known Andy to be entrenched or dogmatic in his views. He’s a classic pragmatist. You disagree with him? Tell him why. Show him evidence. He’ll reason with you, and he’s always open to compromise.

When he makes mistakes, he owns them. Andy takes personal responsibility to learn from mistakes and make positive changes. Best of all, he doesn’t tend to repeat them.

“When he makes mistakes, he owns them. Andy takes personal responsibility to learn from mistakes and make positive changes. Best of all, he doesn’t tend to repeat them.”

He’s someone who has never stopped being curious about the world around him and who’s never stopped learning. He’s not afraid to move forward.

But he’s also well-grounded.

How many thirtysomethings volunteer with their local historical societies? How many go to city council meetings? How many still use the library for something other than Facebooking?

Not many.

But that’s Bate. What you see is what you get. You deserve a representative like him.

On Tuesday, November 7^th, I hope you’ll vote for my friend, Andrew Bateman, for Loveland City Council.

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