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Words are so cool. The difference between ‘flotsam’ and ‘jetsam’? Both are debris in the ocean; one is the stuff left floating after a wreck (flotsam); the other the stuff that is jettisoned from a ship in distress (jetsam).

In ordinary, not merely marine, usage, the phrase “flotsam and jetsam” means odds and ends, rubbish, junk.

The past couple of weeks, in an extraordinary effort to avoid writing, I have come across a great deal of flotsam and jetsam in my own home. Some is still floating around the house: a pair of wooden Canada geese I apparently thought it was important to own; lots of rocks and shells collected in various states and countries over the years; way too many shoes, including: a pair of green vinyl flats, blue leopard print stilletos, and a gorgeous pair of Frye boots that weigh about ten pounds; a basket of tennis balls hidden from Owen; a huge stuffed dog I found in the basement. I own this? Apparently I do.

And, some jetsam, much of it from another life, now jettisoned to Goodwill, the trash, new homes. To name what’s lost is to keep it around, in some sense. The jetsam shall go unnamed. It’s simply, and finally, gone.

If you are a fan of the “All-America” title which Richmond, Indiana, has apparently just won, you won’t like what I have to say about that here. You are fairly warned. Read on if you wish.

This past weekend, a group of eager “youth” traveled to the National Civic League (NCL) competition in Tampa, Florida, as designated finalists in the running for an “All-America” city title. Apparently, the kids impressed the judges with their enthusiasm, honesty, and charm. I admire those kids for being eager, brave, and doing their best to promote Richmond. Good job. And I mean that.

Call me cynical, however, but I fail to see what having an “All America” title will do for Richmond. The city won the award 22 years ago, too, the trusty Palladium-Item tells us. Uh huh. That’s nice. And in those 22 years, how have we done? I offer a few numbers, which I imagine if you are a local reader, you know well:54% graduation rate in the high school in 2006; 76% “estimated” for this year. 11.9% unemployment rate. That’s enough right there to say we are not a healthy place.

So now we’re an All-America city again? Here’s what the NCL says winning the award will do:

All-America City Award is America’s original and most prestigious community recognition award. Since 1949, the Award has honored communities of all sizes (cities, towns, counties, neighborhoods and regions) where community members, government, businesses and nonprofit organizations work together to address critical local issues. More than 500 communities have earned this distinguished title and many have earned it more than once.

If your community works collaboratively to overcome local challenges, it could become an All-America City. The application process alone represents a valuable opportunity to evaluate the way your community manages opportunities and challenges, which can make your community stronger. Communities that earn the All-America City title realize numerous benefits, including:

Local, state, and national recognition
Greater civic pride and greater civic collaboration
Economic stimulus

I see, in the near future, a parade (yes, there is one, Monday at 11 a.m.). I see letters to the editor filled with civic pride. I see community gatherings to plan strategically, brainstorm collaboratively, problem-solve creatively. I see t-shirts. Bumper stickers. A new coat of paint on the water tower. Maybe a community garden. A downtown festival. I see a lot of enthusiasm and energy invested in a smattering of projects across the city that enable the participants to feel good about themselves and the work they are doing to make Richmond a little better here and there.

And then?

That’s it. Nothing. This title, for all the work and investment and energy these kids and community “leaders” have put into it, it’s pure air. It changes nothing on a substantive, fundamental level.

Yet, our self-designated, and sometimes elected, community leaders will tell us, and tell our kids, that this title means we are something. That we will be something. That if we “work together” we can be — no, wait — we are terrific.

I would like to take the community leaders aside and say this: Look. Quit lying to our kids. Quit filling their heads with boosterish nonsense. Quit leading them on these exhausting exercises which result in virtually nothing.

I would also challenge those leaders to take on the hard stuff. Those are good, good kids they took to Tampa, Florida. That’s the easy job. What about the not so good kids? What about the 46% that didn’t graduate? Are you working with them? Are you going to one of the many many bars in Richmond on any given afternoon or evening and talking to the people who spend their time there? Your clothes will stink of smoke and you will get an earful. Can you handle that? Are you enlisting drug addicts and the homeless and dropouts and the illiterate and teenage mothers and the little kids who eat free and reduced lunches every day to be part of your strategic planning, your creative brainstorming, your leadership exercises?

Are you?

If you are not, then you are not what I ever want to call a leader.

So. I’m back in Richmond, Indiana. These are some of the things I have observed today:

– In the grocery store, a rather heavyset woman dressed in sandals, baggy khaki shorts, a baggy t-shirt. On her lower leg, an enormous tattoo of Mickey Mouse.
– A man in the grocery store who whistled like a bird, really loudly, the entire time I was in the store. It was like having a psychotic mockingbird one aisle over for, oh, 45 minutes. Yes. I did want to whack him. With a tennis racket — THWAPP – on the back of the head.
– A funeral procession going west on National Road as I was driving east. Everyone stopped but for a large champagne beige SUV.
– Reading the student evaluations from my spring class and realizing at least one student hated me, or perhaps the world at large; it was hard to tell in the laconic tone of the brief comments what he or she really thought. The rest? Noncommittal or cheery. Nothing of substance, not at all.
– The pile of mail to throw away at home was three times the size of the pile to keep. The pile of mail to throw away at school? All of it.

I am going to watch a cheery movie tonight, toast a good couple of weeks, and get over the slightly nasty burn of re-entry by tomorrow.