Corbett’s Home Cooking

A Quiche

While his would-be opponents are switching political parties and weighing their options, Cedar Rapids mayoral hopeful Ron Corbett is relying on some home cooking to boost his knowledge of local issues.

Corbett has been inviting community activists, movers and shakers, flood victims and other residents to his home on Friday nights for dinner. His wife, Bénédicte, who is from France, does the cooking.

Corbett originally envisioned “crepes and conversation.” The chef had a different idea.

“She said crepes are too hard to make. So she makes quiche,” Corbett said. One vegetarian and one with meat. Very bipartisan.

The Corbetts have hosted had four dinners so far, with 10 people invited to each. And the former speaker of the Iowa House and former Cedar Rapids chamber president insists the gatherings are not intended to pitch his run for mayor 

He says he’s more interested in getting a range of opinions on local issues as his campaign takes shape.

“It’s just come and share your thoughts,” Corbett said.

Corbett is the lone declared candidate in the race for mayor. Linn County Supervisor Linda Langston said this week that she is exploring a run.

Other potentials include City Council members Monica Vernon and Brian Fagan and Gary Hinzman, director of the Sixth Judical District Dept. of Correctional services.

Lawmakers Quietly Change Supervisor Pay Law

After all the loud debate around these parts about county supervisor pay, state lawmakers quietly approved a change in the legislative session’s final hours that could head off future debacles.

A provision was added to a massive budget bill (Page 45, Line 12) that would allow county supervisors to lower their own pay without affecting salaries paid to other elected officials. House Minority Leader Kraig Paulsen, R-Hiawatha, succeeded in winning the change at the last minute.

Gov. Chet Culver must still take action on the bill.

Current law forces supervisors to either accept or decrease pay recommendations from county compensation boards. And if they opt to slice their own pay, supervisors are required by law to also cut pay for other elected officials.  All salaries are tied together under the outdated compensation board system.

It’s that rigidity that famously pushed the Linn County Board of Supervisors into the proceedural gymnastics of  voting to make themselves part-time employees in order to take a pay cut. The board’s effort to go back to full-time status, at higher pay, sparked a new salary battle earlier this year.

The whole mess could have been avoided if the supervisors simply had the power to cut their own pay independently. Now they do.

It’s one good step closer to scrapping the compensation board structure, which puts a lot of power in the hands of appointees hand-picked by the same officials’ whose pay is on the line.

Elected supervisors should have the final say on all salaries, period. That’s the next step.

Today’s Column — The Keeper

Years ago, I pulled into Iowa Falls for my first newspaper job carrying most of my worldly belongings in a Honda hatchback.

I enlisted my parents’ pickup truck to haul my college couch into the real world.

What a great couch.

And it only cost 600 cans.

Fast forward to last weekend. My wife has declared a spring offensive against household disorder. So I’m standing in my overstuffed garage, preparing to do battle with years of consumer overconfidence. It would take a legion of Honda hatchbacks, pulling flatbeds, to haul it all away.

Four jobs, two kids and several moves later, things have gotten complicated and crowded.

If the current lousy economy is telling us all to apply the brakes on our runaway spending habits, I’m now listening.

At least, I would be, if I were not buried under a collapsed wall of Rubbermaid containers. Send help.

Some still say shopping is patriotic. But I regret that I have but one garage to give for my country.

And it’s full to the stinkin’ rafters. So are all the freedom closets.

We just bought a small storage shed, so that some garage things can become shed things.

But after a weekend of heavy, hand-to-hand combat, of tossing and donating and sorting, I don’t like our odds. One problem is I come from a long line of keepers.

For example, there’s a closet back in my parents’ house that is stuffed with just about every coat they’ve ever owned. My mother used to tell me that we were keeping all that stuff just in case my dad ever lost his job.

So for years, I figured that when a person lost their job, they went home and put on a bunch of old clothes. Strange ritual, but I figured the grownups must know something I didn’t understand. Maybe it had something to do with all the empty margarine containers stuffed into a cabinet in the kitchen. Could be.

So I, too, tend to be a keeper. I have boxes and boxes of my old newspaper clippings and other memorabilia. I’ve told my wife that someday it will be donated to whichever university wins the bid to build my library. Why does she not laugh? But as husbands go, she should consider herself lucky, stuff-wise.

I never bought a motorcycle, snowmobile, bass boat or ultralight aircraft, so I essentially came pre-defeated.

All I have are a few small collections that are very classy, safe and manageable.

Still, spring cleaning is a healthy exercise. By Saturday night, I was convinced that we had turned over a new leaf.

But then the Sunday paper arrived, with all the ads. Wow, there’s a lot of stuff we could really use.