Monday at 6:30pm, the Pasadena City Council is scheduled to meet. Me and you you and me, or somebody, maybe anybody, should go to this thing. I know it’s boring, MIND-NUMBING, but there’s a few items listed on the Agenda (see below) that look kinda weird. That is to say, perplexing, possibly even…
And, here is a snippet from CEQA Section 15061 (b) 3 on this EXCEMPTION they proceed, however, it is arguable that common sense has anything to do with this:
[Subsection (b)(3) provides a short way for agencies to deal with discretionary activities which could arguably be subject to the CEQA process but which common sense provides should not be subject to the Act.
This section is based on the idea that CEQA applies jurisdictionally to activities which have the potential for causing environmental effects. Where an activity has no possibility of causing a significant effect, the activity will not be subject to CEQA. This approach has been noted with approval in a number of appellate court decisions including the State Supreme Court opinion in No Oil, Inc. v. City of Los Angeles.]
So, what’s going on? First off, we know Los Angeles County Mayor Mike Antonovich ordered an EIR be performed by the Los Angeles County Public Works before undertaking the large sediment removal project in the works. That’s where the whole of Hahamonga gets leveled. Then amazingly, after it’s been completely decimated, the whole place gets landscaped with plastic grass and sports fields.
OKAY! Not the whole place. It’s a watershed, after all. There’s only so much one can do to destroy the City of Pasadena water retention. Personally speaking of water retention, lately, I feel like I am a walking water reservoir ( buried in Johnson “Field”) even though I have cut out the salt!
You are cordially invited to speak for three minutes.
Talk about whatever you want, but it would help if you mentioned how valuable the Hahamongna Watershed/Wetlands is.
PASADENA NEEDS TO PERMANENTLY PROTECT HAHAMONGNA and all of the upper Arroyo just like they do for buildings…only this thing is alive. This is LIFE.
From soccer fields, circus camps, science museums, bee killers, history museums, watch-dog groups, dog-watch groups, Oldsters, Hippies, Hipsters, Capitalist Pigs, landscaping ie. killing everything that is there (TOADS!), or that isn’t native… even hundred year old Italian (Nona!) trees; Hahamongna deserves to be protected by SOMEONE!
I say it’s YOU!
March right over
No,
saunter serenely
TO
Pasadena City Hall
100 N. Garfield Ave.
2nd Floor Public Chamber
August 1, 2011
6:30 pm
(televised)
It’s time to suit up and show up. Council will decide on dumping sediment on Johnson Field.
Aristide Maillol (1861 – 1944) was a pioneer in creating avant-garde sculptures, whose work is displayed in nearly every major museum. Here, in his 1935 life-size creation “Three Nymphs” (at the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California), he aspires to mix ancient Greek Classicism with modernistic poise, strength, and sensuality. This was a radical idea during his lifetime, since society regarded women as second class. Notice how their hands are bound together in a supportive role, in a simple gesture, and with their heads held high. The middle statue was modeled by the artist’s muse, a fifteen -year old girl (Dina Vierny) who became his lifelong inspiration, and who died in January 2009 at age 89. This bronze sculpture is displayed inside the museum’s lobby.
About a month ago, I was invited to join a group of interesting and intelligent people from Pasadena on a tour of the Sacramento Delta region. The tour is an educational journey about water; where it comes from, how it is treated, what natural elements enhance its potability, and what things hinder it. It struck me, as I stood gazing up at the state capitol building, is how all of this hangs in the balance of politics.
Scientists, engineers, lawyers, lobbyists are employed privately and publicly to gather tons of data, exposition, example, experiment for the purpose of influencing a change in the worldview of elected officials. They/we must wake up to the challenging management and protection of finite water. While NASA frantically zooms around the universe searching for water on other planets, we are stuck with the very same stuff Cleopatra bathed in, although the rose petals have long been reabsorbed.
A thousand modern Marcus Antonius snakes slither round to encapture some of that clear sensuousness percolated pure through centuries of stones and grasses to bottle under their particular plastic brands. It made me wonder what happens to all of the cases and cases of bottled water that have an expiration date. How long does it take the plastic to disintegrate so that the water can be free again to recirculated throughout our planet?
It gives me a headache. There are so many variables… and I don’t want to go down that plastic rabbit hole, right now. Instead, I want to consult with my very own naturally wise frog, Professor Weebles, about what is happening in Pasadena… to the watershed.
Professor Weebles lived with me for the first two years in a fish tank. When he married, he moved out to a lusciously private pickle jar pad filled with lucky bamboo. Esmeralda, his wife of three years, died recently. I told him all about my trip in an attempt to distract him from his funk.
“Did you know that one of the big concerns for the delta is the dumping of aquarium contents into the river system?”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Well, it introduces non-native plants and animals that compete with native species and clog up the natural purification system,” I told him boldly.
“Oooooohhh woe.” he muttered through the bubbles. “I came from a river in Thailand. We escaped there from a lab that used us for pregnancy tests, just like rabbits were used here in your country years ago. Dead was a Yes. Not dead was a No. We staked out our territory pretty fast and I suppose we were ruining everybodies lives multiplying like crazy in that river. No one was there to stop us until the pet shop boys caught us.”
Professor Weebles is full of weird stories. I don’t know if I believe that one. Just like I don’t know if I can believe the story about native toads being a concern for the Pasadena city council.
I do believe no one wants to kill frogs by dumping sediment on them, or use them to see if they’re knocked up. Among the wilds, I’m not yet convinced that the long term existence in their native home from which they are named the Arroyo Toad, or that the presently hopping Common Western Toad is important enough to them to establish permanent protection for their habitat in Hahamongna. Dan Rix, a Pasadena Public Works Department engineer said they’ll wait for the toads to leave town “on their own” before dumping sediment.
“Look at the bright side,” Professor Weebles flapped a long knobby front toe at me, “You’ve got some politicians on the council right now who must care tremendously about that watery piece of paradise.”
I nodded.
The wise frog went on… “Did you hear what Mr. Tornek said about how important the environment is to him?”
“And did you listen to what Margaret McAustin had to say? You should listen carefully to her,” he said.
“And mademoiselle,” Professor Weebles eyes widened and then narrowed. He spoke slowly, and deliberately now, “Have you taken the time to listen to our own district representative, Chris Holden?”
I shrugged. “All that was said over a year ago.”
Professor Weebles seemed a little exasperated, “Listen to me. I know more about how you humans foul things up for yourselves, me being a FROG and an educated member of the animal kingdom as well. I do know that if you humans go down you’ll take all of us with you.”
He gulped some air from the surface, “Everything Mr. Holden said is as relevant today as it was on July 12, 2010. The man speaks the truth!”
And with that he swam away to disappear under the roots of bamboo in his pickle jar condo.
I suppose he was right. It’s sad now that he’s gone. I found him stretched out on the kitchen floor yesterday, stiff as a board. I picked him up carefully and returned him to his jar. He recovered instantly and snapped back at me,
“I’m only playing dead.”
W.T.F.? I should have named him Basil Rathfrog, a perfect name for a toady actor.
