In balancing the Village’s budget for 2012-2013, the Village Council had to make some difficult decisions. So difficult, in fact, that they were virtually in a no-win situation. But in the end, the pain was distributed and the Village is ready to move into the financial new year.

What the council, and Mr. Miller, does now is of more importance than the task of balancing the budget. While Oakland County is beginning to see a spark of light in its economy, it’s anticipated that Holly will be facing continued budget constraints next year and for the foreseeable future. Unless something proactive is done, it’s a certainty that the Village will be facing more dire choices and fewer options.

One option the Village Council is pursuing is a public safety millage to provide more dedicated revenue for the police and fire departments. This is certainly a viable option, and gives Village residents the opportunity to choose whether they want to reach deeper into their depleted pockets to fund their public safety institutions.

There’s just one problem—the Holly Area Schools is also advancing a 10 year sinking fund millage to the voters, to fund school maintenance and other ongoing costs.

Mr. Miller, however, doesn’t seem to care that there might be competing millage proposals on the ballot, and that could result in voters having to choose which millage to fund if they can’t afford both. While voters can always say “no” to either ballot, in our economically depressed area, the risk of the sinking fund millage failing due to the alternative choice of the Village’s millage could be disastrous for Holly.

What Mr. Miller doesn’t get is that the Village is not an island—its success is symbiotic with the success of Holly Township and with Holly Area Schools. Businesses and residents alike circle around this nebulous, vague term called “quality of life”, which encompasses everything from parks and recreation, home and neighborhood quality, public safety, citizen engagement, and significantly, the quality of the schools.

In today’s commuter world, one only needs to look at the freeways in the morning and evening to see that people will live in the communities that suit their quality of life. For families, that means living where the schools will provide their children quality educations, even if that means they have to drive down to the suburbs or city to work. People simply don’t live where they work and commute their children out of the way to and from school.

Holly Area Schools has managed to excel in achievement despite crippling budget and financial woes. But there has to be a limit to what they can do before education suffers—there’s always a limit. Should the sinking fund millage fail, Holly Area Schools will be forced to pay for the routine maintenance of its facilities out of funds that could be used for academic programs. Sinking funds, as Superintendent Kent Barnes has reminded the community, cannot be used for things like technology. However, the converse is sadly true—technology funds can go to pay for a condenser or roof, if need be.

A good roof won’t improve children’s test scores, but a bad roof can certainly hinder them.

Since assuming his throne two years ago, Mr. Miller has fought against nearly every pro-business, pro-development initiative that’s come through the Village Chambers. He argued against permitting liquor sales on Sundays and holidays until he eventually flip-flopped on his vote. He decried the very expensive Adaptive Reuse Study regarding the Village offices and prospective restaurants, barking that “Holly is no Birmingham, nor do we want to be” (who’s “we”??). His stalling and dodging led the Shared Services task force to go defunct without even taking the first steps toward greater financial efficiency in the community.

As a member of the Main Street Holly Downtown Development Authority, he advocated a community brand of a “town that time forgot,” a backwards and economically crippling approach taken by another Oakland County community that they sensibly shelved for a modern, progressive position. The driving force for that change: that young families want their children to grow up in modern, forward thinking communities, even with all of the benefits of a small-town lifestyle.

For Mr. Miller to advocate for a public safety millage, one that could damage the viability and success of Holly’s largest employer, largest water customer and shining beacon of success in the community, and spend the last two years not doing a thing to stimulate true economic development, that reeks of a “tax and spend” government, something that’s very incongruous with a self-proclaimed “lifelong Republican.”

If the community feels strongly enough about a public safety millage, then the community should have it placed on the ballot through a petition drive, with the weight of direct democracy behind it. But if Mr. Miller decides to champion a millage through the Council at the potential expense and total disregard of Holly Area Schools, biting the hand that feeds us, then we can only hope that voters approve both millage questions, in spite of the horrible policy it infers, and then also cast votes for a Village President who’s going to do more than just try to tax and babble his way toward financial ruin.

Last week, the Detroit Tigers announced and signed Prince Fielder as their signature first baseman for an unbelievable 9-year, $214 million contract. The sum of the contract exceeds the entire gross domestic product of nine recognized nations; the nearly $24-million per year amount takes Mr. Fielder out of the 99%, though nominally compared to other scions of wealth that have lately graced the news reports like Warren Buffett or Mitt Romney.

It is a sizable payday for Mr. Fielder indeed, and while many supporters of the Hittin’ Kittens are swooned over another power bat in the Tigers’ lineup, there has been a sizable outcry from those who perceive a nine-digit salary to be excessive and grossly inappropriate, especially in a struggling city like Detroit—the poster child of the current recession.

The critics cry out “Unfair!” that men and women toil, sweat and stress for a pittance compared to he who is buried in money to hit a ball and trot in ninety-foot increments. Imagine, they say, what could be bought for $214 million dollars—entire school districts could be run for years; the hungry fed, the naked clothed, the homeless sheltered. No one, they surmise, deserves that kind of money when teachers and police officers (and just about everyone else) receives not even a fraction of that in pay.

The critics are absolutely right. $214 million over nine years could accomplish a lot in improving our society and the lot of peoples’ lives.

The thing is…the $214 million dollars that is being paid to Mr. Fielder will make a significant impact on many people’s lives, even if the cash is going to him (and his agent) first.

Professional athletics is a business, plain and simple. It’s demonstrated in every city, village, town and junction in America: the economic effects of any successful business in an area radiate far beyond the warehouse walls.

As we rally as civic compatriots and root on the home team, that very team is paid for by the corporate sponsors, season ticket holders, beer and hot dog consumers, and media networks and advertisers that bring the sport to the desperate, begging mob, eager to revel in Olympian-style heroes who bring glory and honor to their cities and themselves.

The echo of the Coliseum rings loudly still today, delivering escapism and vicarious living to a modern Rome, with the patricians seated in shaded boxes above the raucous plebeian mob, while the impoverished vend and wallow in the streets outside.

Investing in Mr. Fielder, therefore, is not indulging in some sort of obscene bourgeois luxury of ego; it’s an investment to continue the capitalist model embedded in our base economy. The mob likes winners. The mob pays to see winners. Mr. Fielder is a high-risk, high-reward strategy for making the Tigers a winner, which makes people come out to see the team win and express their support by buying hot dogs, peanuts, beer, sausage, t-shirts, foam claws, hats, replica jerseys, car clings, Fatheads and every other manner of merchandise. Businesses and companies pay extravagantly to be exposed to the mob, and media networks to woo their own advertisers.

And when people come out to fill the ballpark for an afternoon of baseball, who wins? Mr. Fielder’s paycheck makes him a winner, and his long ball might make the Tigers winners; the gate receipts and balance sheet makes owner Mike Illitch and his investors winners. There are many more winners, though, in the struggling capital of the Rust Belt. The scores upon scores of stadium and team employees win due to continued employment. The countless bars, restaurants, taverns and stores in Detroit’s downtown (and across the State) and their employees win. The companies that successfully increase their market base through corporate sponsorships win.

The non-profit organizations that raise funds at concession stands win, as do the communities, organizations, veterans and children who have received millions upon millions upon millions of dollars in grants and funding from the Detroit Tigers Foundation and Illitch Charities to improve their lots in life. Most athletes, including Mr. Fielder, also establish their own non-profit charitable foundations to store their wealth, and the impact of their contributions and philanthropy usually exceeds, by far, their own personal benefits from the tax-shelter.

What is the economic impact of a World Series baseball team on a struggling city? What is the impact of winning, of media coverage, of investment, on social morale in an urban area? What is the social impact of a celebrity athlete making a guest appearance at a charity event? Is inducing one of the top hitters in professional baseball, not to mention a hometown boy, to come to play in Detroit worth the financial investment?

In 1977, construction was completed on the the first phase of the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit. The final cost of that phase building was $337 million, which in today’s dollars  would be more than $1.1 billion. General Motors also spent more than $500 million for renovations in 2004. For a generation, and still today, the Renaissance Center was the symbol of Detroit’s, and America’s, economic power—the headquarters of countless companies and most notably GM, among the tallest and most elaborate buildings in the world. Yet, there was no outcry about such an expense for a building; after all, it was built with corporate funds mostly from the Ford Motor Company. Within its first year of operation alone, the Renaissance Center generated more than $1 billion of economic growth in the city.

Prince Fielder is also being paid with private, corporate funds—the funds of the Tigers organization and Mr. Illitch. No one is compelled to pay taxes to fund his contract—it is the willing choice of every connoisseur of a “Pizza-Pizza” or a “Hot-n-Ready” over the years; those who gladly pay to see a leathern orb soaring into the Chevrolet Fountain on a lazy summer afternoon while wearing their Prince Fielder replica jersey, fitted ball cap and Olde English “D” temporary tattoo on their face.

Some may think of sports in America as trite leisure activities, having little significant or philosophical impact on society and humanity. The exorbitant salaries paid to professional athletes could be spent for more direct, pro-social means, to be sure, and there is an opportunity cost in every zero tacked onto the end of an athlete’s compensation.

There’s also an opportunity cost when a business doesn’t reinvest its own profits to ensure continued success and growth—success and growth that seeps down Adams, Brush, Woodward, John R, Madison and Broadway; up and down I-75 and I-94, over I-96 and across the plains and moraines of our state. There’s an opportunity cost when we don’t invest in our civil society—our leisure and escapism—lest we become Iraq or Afghanistan where the result of a lacking civil society is civil war and politics, worry and care.

We shouldn’t be angry that Prince Fielder is making more than $2 per every Michigan resident per year to play baseball. We should be happy that we’re not Milwaukee, whose biggest cash cow this side of a beer vat just took a one-way flight over Lake Michigan and brought his economic impact to us as a carry-on.

Head north, up Saginaw Street, and the story changes a little bit; vacant storefronts, dilapidated blight, and empty industrial facilities create a decommercialized zone between the high-traffic North End and the historic Downtown. It falls within the DDA’s charge to shepherd this zone as well, if not historically, most certainly economically.

To this end, the Business Devleopment Committee has proposed revising and promoting the DDA’s Business Finder’s Fee (BFF) program to create an incentive for Holly residents, fellow business owners, or other parties to help bring business to Holly. The BFF program offers rewards of $1000 to a resident, business proprietor, property owner, or public or private employee within the Village of Holly or Holly Township (with the DDA board reserving discretion to awarding to non-Holly affiliates).

Only one grant can be awarded per person, per year, with requirements to ensure that the recruited business is real, viable and has reasonable longevity. The pool of incentive funds is naturally limited, and if successful, the program will sunset itself out by bringing Holly’s business capacity to near maximum.

Within the past several months alone, two local business owners, Lonnie Heward of Accurate Appraisals and John LaCroix of the Great Lakes Artisan Village, have assisted in opening two more doors within the Downtown, thus making them eligible for the grant. However, the grants have not yet been paid, nor has the revised BFF program been formally adopted, due to continuing reservations by some members of the DDA Board of Directors.

What the business community is witnessing is the “same old Holly” in the delay of adopting this program and paying the grants, delaying and foot-dragging and interjecting subjective arguments until the point where the will to continue is sapped.

Although good governance requires thoughtful and thorough deliberation, consideration of options and potential consequences, the DDA Board of Directors is over-thinking their consideration of the BFF program, focusing more on the recipients of the grant and the program itself instead of the desired outcomes of the program—new businesses.

One objection that has arisen is whether certain professions or positions, such as a realtor as Mr. Heward is, are at an unfair advantage for receiving this taxpayer funded grant. Perhaps they are, but realtors are in the best position to actively recruit businesses, as well as show off and sell our community.

If four realtors receive grants because they recruited four strong businesses, why not reward those four (and make them feel good enough to keep recruiting more)? Are their four businesses any less valuable than those that would be recruited by Joe Citizen? Of course not—four new businesses have opened in Holly, lifting the entire community further.

But by foot-dragging and over-deliberating the BFF program, it would be of little surprise to anyone if Mr. Heward developed a bitter taste in his mouth and was reluctant to make his best pitch for entrepreneurs to move into Holly (because in this case, Mr. Heward’s first concern is Mr. Heward’s business, and business to him is good regardless of whether a business is recruited to Holly, or to Fenton, or to Clarkston, or to Grand Blanc…).

And if there’s this much trouble with a simple program, then why would anyone else, be they a Realtor to a fellow merchant to a citizen, want to even bother and put up the effort?

Considering that the BFF policy was revised by a talented attorney and experienced marketing manager in Pete Deahl and Jessica Teague, respectively, if there are issues with some of the program’s stipulations, they should be able to be revised and handled in short order, so that the program can be promoted and marketed, more businesses can open their doors, and deserving recruiters can be rewarded.

But if the delay is philosophical, or even worse personal, then we have the infamous “Beer Company Rumor” redux, where if you just make something take long enough, and make the process painful and irritating enough, then everything will just go away and we can carry on as we were. We’ve made too much progress in the past year for something as small as the BFF program to derail it—the DDA Board of Directors should approve this program as expediently as possible.

Maybe it’s time for the Holly Area Chamber of Commerce to hang it up, at least in name.

In a letter to the editor of The Holly Express from June, 2010, Chamber President Sandra Kleven took time to provide explanations and excuses as to why the Chamber of Commerce does not provide financial or organizational support to the Carry Nation festival or the Dickens festival as they once did.

In this letter and in subsequent comments, Mrs. Kleven made the point that the Chamber of Commerce is a struggling, volunteer-led organization without paid staff or extensive financial or human resources. That fact can’t really be argued, and should certainly be understood by anyone. The Chamber’s organizational challenges are certainly unfortunate.

And so, in the past year, in light of the challenges the Chamber has faced, numerous individuals and organizations have stepped up to the plate and assumed the roles and responsibilities that a traditional Chamber of Commerce would normally do.

One common role of a Chamber of Commerce is to promote community and economic development. During her tenure as the director of Main Street Holly, the Downtown Development Authority (DDA), Hope Ponsart has welcomed more than a dozen new businesses to the Holly area, and has begun work on aggressive marketing strategies for the entire Holly commercial sector. Ms. Ponsart is definitely experiencing a shortage of red ribbon for cutting these days.

Another common role of a Chamber of Commerce is to offer its members services in terms of business development. The Holly Area Economic Development Task Force (EDTF) stepped up to the plate in this area. The EDTF spearheaded empirical research to offer as a resource for both existing and prospective businesses, as well as doing the yeoman’s work in planning, promoting and paying to host seminars on business communications last summer

Both the DDA and the EDTF have also taken active roles in lobbying for the business community in Holly, much as a Chamber of Commerce would do. The DDA and EDTF have both advocated pro-business stances on water/sewer rates, liquor laws and ordinances, street closures and public events.

Bringing visitors to an area to shop in town and perhaps eventually invest in the community is one of the benefits of festivals, fairs or other big public events, especially those events that identify and brand a community. Festivals need an organization behind it to pay expenses and provide accounting, purchase liability and property insurance, and generally plan the event. There’s a reason that these jobs frequently fall upon the local Chamber of Commerce.

In Holly, the Carry Nation festival and the Dickens Old Fashioned Christmas festival were once both supported by the Holly Area Chamber of Commerce, but are no longer. Unfortunately, the Carry Nation festival, without that critical supporting organization, is currently defunct, and the Dickens festival almost befell the same fate. Almost, that is, until local businessman John LaCroix joined with the Dickens festival volunteers to establish an independent non-profit corporation bent on reviving the Dickens festival. Revive it, they will!

And while Chambers of Commerce are usually expected to coordinate the energy of local businesses, Holly is fortunate to have business owners and individuals who work together and coordinate themselves. When the Chamber of Commerce was not interested in partnering with the Blackthorn Pub to provide high-quality libations for Sights, Sounds and Taste of Holly, the pub’s owners partnered with local activists who saw the void left by the absence of Carry Nation and are staging their own gathering in celebration of Patriot Week.

Chambers of Commerce are staples in every American community and a cornerstone in our economic culture, which is why no matter how active or inactive a chamber is, they enjoy considerable psychological power and prestige. If it is a strong and active Chamber, anything is possible. If it is a passive, narrow or inept Chamber, it’s like a wet blanket on a candle.

There is an energy building in Holly, and that energy is growing because dedicated and active citizens, organizations and businesses have decided to take the reins of economic and business development, festival and promotional planning, community marketing and branding, and advocacy and lobbying—the traditional roles of a Chamber of Commerce. These groups and businesses don’t turn down offers to cooperate or put their own self-interest first; their collaboration multiplies the growth of commerce and business in Holly, which helps everyone down the road.

And if these people and groups are handling these roles, and succeeding at them, then doesn’t that beg the question as to whether the Chamber of Commerce serves a purpose in Holly? If so, what exactly is that purpose?

In the past year, Holly has seen a nearly compete turnover in leadership, and with that has come new perspectives, new approaches, new visions for the future. The last remaining institution in the cycle of change is the Holly Area Chamber of Commerce. If the challenges the Chamber faces are too large, or there is not the willingness to work towards and assume the expected roles of a traditional Chamber of Commerce, then perhaps it’s time to relinquish its psychological position in our community as “the Chamber.” Maybe even a simple renaming to the “Holly Business Networking Club” would be better, and more accurately portray its mission and purpose.

Every other institution in Holly has changed the status quo. Now it’s time for the Holly Area Chamber of Commerce to take its turn.

The public comments were strong by the Battle Alley business owners that spoke at the Village Council meeting on Tuesday. Pat Kenny spoke emotionally; Jean Montooth and Dennis Haigh roared with rage.

The topic was the closing of Battle Alley on select weekends during the summer, mostly to allow the Holly Hotel to use the alley for outdoor dining tables. The topic was placed on the consent agenda, but Council Member Don Winglemire pulled it onto new business so that the council could deliberate on it instead of just rubber stamping an approval.

Anecdotally, the Battle Alley business owners who spoke stated that every proprietor on Battle Alley was opposed to the closing of the street, except of course, for the Holly Hotel.

The problem was that their furious opposition was made after the decision was approved by the Village Council—no input was offered prior to the decision.

It’s not that there wasn’t opportunity to do so, though. When Mr. Winglemire pulled the item out of the consent agenda, there was a public comment portion of the agenda that came prior to the resolution. Mrs. Kenny, Mrs. Montooth and Mr. Haigh could have taken the opportunity then to speak of their feelings on closing Battle Alley, a point that Village President Jeff Miller deftly acknowledged.

The closing of Battle Alley, either for temporary events or permanently, has been an ongoing hot topic in Downtown Holly. From the perspective of the DDA, whose role is to create a downtown area that is attractive to residents and visitors, Battle Alley is the ideal setting for a scenic pedestrian walkway. By restricting auto traffic, the space can be beautified, used for outdoor displays and vendors, al fresco dining and entertainment.

There are compelling factors for closing Battle Alley. It is a one-way street, narrow enough for only one stream of traffic, and no separated sidewalks for pedestrians. There is no parking on Battle Alley—business patrons who car-window-shop must still go to a municipal lot or street space to park and walk to the Battle Alley businesses. Some of the traffic is simply pass-through, to avoid the difficult intersection at Maple St. and Broad St.

There are also compelling arguments against closing Battle Alley. Traffic that drives on Battle Alley is essentially “window shopping,” parking elsewhere and walking to the store. The Holly Hotel only opens in the late afternoon for dinner, meaning that unless there’s more activity going on during normal business hours, closing Battle Alley renders the shops there invisible.

It’s clear that closing Battle Alley, either periodically or permanently, is not a cut-and-dry issue—the arguments on both sides have merit.

However, if the merchants that are opposed to closing Battle Alley want to effectively argue against its closing, then they need something more substantial than anecdotal accounts of diminished business and inconveniences to the merchants. Have the merchants ever done comparative profit/loss statements between weekends where Battle Alley is open and when it is closed? Are customers tracked or polled in any way to determine what brought them into the store—drive-by window shopping or something else?

In the same token, have the merchants on Battle Alley ever undertaken any initiatives to try to capitalize on the street closure and attract more foot traffic? Outdoor displays or vendors or other special promotional events? Have other downtown or area businesses been invited or recruited to set up something in the closed Battle Alley to increase the mass of activity and fill any voids? Has the Holly Hotel been invited to consider opening for brunch or lunch during the days it is closed, as an accommodation to the other businesses?

It stands to reason that there would be as much appeal for cars driving down Broad Street or Saginaw Street to stop upon seeing a bustling, adorable “outdoor mall” as they would driving down a vacant Battle Alley and window shopping.

So the real question is—are the Battle Alley merchants, including the Holly Hotel, willing to exchange the “drive-by” traffic for commercial opportunities, think “out of the box” and be proactive participants in a pedestrian commercial district? Or are they content to simply fight for the status quo and take the path of least resistance by complaining after a decision has been made?

Every business owner has the right to run their business in the way they see fit, and it certainly isn’t fair when decisions are made that adversely affect their livelihood. Mr. Winglemire provided the Battle Alley merchants the opportunity to provide their input on the decision with his agenda amendment. Hope Ponsart and the DDA are open to examining the issue further, as long as it’s an open-minded and productive examination.

Closing Battle Alley may not be beneficial to its businesses all by itself, but it certainly creates opportunities for those merchants, and their neighbors on Broad Street and Saginaw Street, to really create a special commercial space in downtown Holly.

It all comes down to a choice—will the Battle Alley merchants put forth a more timely and effective argument against closing Battle Alley in the future, will they embrace the potential opportunities closing the street can offer (even if it entails change), or will they be pandas—grunting, grumbling and without the initiative or drive to do what it takes to save their own species?

It was nearly impossible to drive through the downtown due to the crowds of pedestrians and children walking around. The sidewalks were packed with people coming in and out of storefronts, carrying small packages and treats; lines at vendors were a dozen deep of people eagerly awaiting roasted chestnuts or almonds, hot cocoa or something else to warm them up. The crowds gazed with smiles and wide eyes at the attractions around them. For every family that had their fill and left, another one was just walking up to take their place.

But this idyllic winter celebration wasn’t in Holly. It was in Frankenmuth.

In downtown Holly, a crowd of a few dozen meandered up and down the sidewalks and through Battle Alley. Children listening to local resident Joe Mishler struggled to hear his holiday tales over the sound of the paid professional singers outside. The live Nativity and community tent sponsored by First Baptist church was busy, with its hearty chili, coffee, cocoa and cake enjoyed by a few guests who had gathered to await the brief parade, starting a few hours after most of the stores downtown closed.

Although that account of the last weekend of Holly’s Dickens Old Fashioned Christmas festival sounds as bleak as the weather was that day, it isn’t nearly as dreary as those August days a few months back, where the streets were empty and silent with no one awaiting the arrival of Carry Nation, and no knowing of when, if ever, she’d be visiting in the future.

The economic woes of Michigan are a time-worn explanation for nearly every challenge and difficulty we’re facing these days. Municipalities are struggling with budget shortfalls from declined revenue sharing, property value decreases and the exodus of residents to anywhere with better job prospects. Citizens have less disposable income, meaning less support for businesses, which in turn results in less resources and support for community, charitable or non-profit organizations, including Holly’s once-renowned Carry Nation and Dickens festivals. One would think that Carry Nation and Dickens are just unfortunate casualties of the economic slump.

That is, until you look around Michigan and see that there are countless other festivals and events still occurring, whether they’re limping along or going full speed ahead.

It’s an even more enervating situation when the uniqueness and marketability of Carry Nation and Dickens are considered. These aren’t just random theme festivals for the sake of having a block party; they’re concepts community of Holly can strongly identify with and be defined by—they play on the historical and structural features of Holly that differentiate us from other communities. Every community is unique and special in its own way, but Carry Nation and Dickens were annual promotions of specifically why Holly is unique and special. They were reminders to ourselves as well.

Despite the unbelievable potential that Carry Nation and Dickens carried with them, and a long history of success, in May of last year, Carry Nation’s appearance was scratched indefinitely. Dickens scaled back severely and still ended up $8,200 in the red, surely signaling its demise as well if it wasn’t for a lifeline appropriation by the Holly Downtown Development Authority, giving it one more chance to spring back to life this year—a chance that will require some serious reform on the part of the Dickens festival organizers.

***

On the surface, it’s lack of money, volunteers and organizational support. But you only need to ask around town a little to determine some of the deeper factors that have led to their decline. You’ll find the topic of Holly’s festivals evokes very powerful, but very polar, reactions in people. Some people recall festivals of days past and speak longingly and supportively of how great they were and how great they could be again. In others you can detect a strong stigma attached to even the name of the festival, with hissed disdain over lost glory and suggestions that the coffin just be nailed. The optimists and the pessimists.

Attending festival committee meetings is another telling experience. If you attended one of those festival committee meetings in the past, you’d be regaled with stories of glorious past festivals, where the streets overflowed with people. There was a beer tent on every corner, games and contests, singers and actors. There was no concern over money or support in those gilded times; people lined up to fund, volunteer and attend these festivals. They practically put on themselves, apparently.

As eyes gloss over into sepia-toned visions of the past, a few still in the present transition to mild complaining and frustration of how it’s just not the same anymore, “why don’t we do that anymore?” and what a shame it is that we can’t or don’t. In the end, there’s about 15 minutes of work and planning interspersed with 45 minutes of reminiscing.

It’s not as if these meetings aren’t attended by well-intentioned, enthusiastic and talented volunteers. But as the days turn into weeks and months, it becomes clear that the way forward is not taking us back; resources are scraped for and deadlines are met with, “the best we could do,” and the energy and enthusiasm is compressed into resentment like a shaken soda bottle, eventually erupting and just making a mess.

There is no shortage of attempts to break this pattern, but few find purchase. Suggestions as to different ways to approach needs or problems are met with resistance, sometimes laced with venom. The vitriol usually comes from those long-time volunteers who feel that their past contributions are challenged or their toes are being stepped on. “This is the way we’ve always done it,” is a common defense.

Likewise, well-received ideas end up like the Little Red Hen, with much verbal support but little work or action by everyone. Volunteers who wish to be nothing more than helpers and followers shy away for fear they will be required to give more initiative than they wish to, especially when the only calls for help are ambiguous: “We need volunteers!”

But in Holly, retailers have found ways to keep customers engaged.

Cathy Bateman of My Sweet Holly, a reconditioned antique and collectable furniture store, reaches out to the online community at these times.  “I list more items online,” she says. “When I’m busier in the store, it isn’t always necessary to do that. I sold a lot off the floor at Christmastime. But when things slow down in here, I reach out to the serious collectors who are looking for finds year-round.” For her local shoppers she puts some items on sale and also works hard to ensure her merchandise is something they can’t find at other stores. “There’s always a reason to come in, because there’s always something new, something one of a kind,” says Bateman.

Autumn Anderson of Holly Mill & Company takes a different approach. She hosts seminars and events that give customers reasons to come into the store beyond shopping. Taking advantage of customers’ inclinations to make resolutions for the new year, Anderson says, “I host 4-week goal-setting classes that usually get people in here.  One in January, and one in February. Our next one starts February 10.” In addition to that, Anderson says, “Then we host psychic fairs, vision board workshops, and have pampering nights and various classes and book clubs that interest people.”

Although reducing hours slightly to reduce costs, the Holly Candle Shoppe continues to be open six days a week, Tuesday through Sunday throughout the winter months.  Probably the most beautiful and well-planned retail space in Holly, the candle shop offers one of our community’s most satisfying shopping experiences year-round. Every month the shop features a signature scent, January’s scent being “Resolution.” A true destination store, the Holly Candle Shoppe enjoys the distinction of being one of those retail spaces that attracts people “just to see it.”

January and February are tough months for retailers nearly everywhere outside of tourist destinations. But here in Holly, a few smart retailers are doing their best to keep the retail home fires burning.

I asked her, “What exactly is the job of DDA director?”  “To promote Holly and the DDA district businesses. To help them do better business by increasing foot traffic and increasing awareness of downtown,” she said.

“How are you intending to do that?” I asked.

“Primarily by restructuring the Main Street program. There was such a long lapse between the directors that the structure of the committees had fallen apart. I’m very excited because this will be the first week all of the committees will meet. They are starting to take shape. We have new faces and new perspectives.”

Main Street is a program of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Oakland County encourages communities to participate in this program, according to Main Street Oakland County’s mission, “to maximize the economic potential and preserve the heritage and sense of place of Oakland County’s historic commercial districts by encouraging and facilitating the use of the Main Street four-point approach, which emphasizes comprehensive economic development within the context of historic preservation.” Main Street Oakland County requires participating communities to maintain four standing committees: Organization, Design, Promotion, and Economic Restructuring. Only eleven Oakland County communities currently qualify for membership. Holly’s DDA became a full member of the program under the leadership of former DDA director Suzanne Perreault.

Said Ponsart, “The Organization Committee had great idea— a once a month ‘pizza talk.’ Business owners and civic groups will be invited to discuss how recent events went and what events businesses would like to see happen. It will also provide an opportunity to let them know what’s coming up and what’s expected of them. We want everyone to feel like they’re involved. Dan Jablonski and Dr. Jason White (both on the DDA Board of Directors) co-chair the Organization Committee. They want to be sure that the pizza talks don’t become a venue for complaints, but that something is accomplished. The idea was born out of the downtown merchants meetings. Some time has been put into looking at what went wrong there, and into improving the concept this time.”

“The pizza talks will also help us make sure that DDA members have all of the info on Oakland County programs. They offer so many seminars that are helpful to business owners. They’re very affordable, but our members don’t necessarily know about them.”

“The pizza talks might be a good way to solicit more volunteers. That’s the biggest problem. If everyone in the community would volunteer for just one event, it would improve event quality.”

I asked, “What do you say to those who say that DDA events only benefit businesses, so they should do the volunteering?”

“Anything that makes people aware of Holly benefits everybody,” said Ponsart. “If someone comes in from out of town, and they see something they like and come back, that’s a plus. I’d love to have a volunteer event, so people could get into what’s out there. Right now, in terms of resident recruitment, we’ll use Facebook as a marketing tool, and also our website, which needs updating.”

“What other challenges does the DDA face?” I asked.

“We need to try to bring the north end and the downtown district together,” she said. “I’ve heard of people who drive north from downtown or south from the north end and stop when they get to the industrial areas.”

“How would you like to see the midtown area develop?  Could redevelopment eventually help connect the north and south?”

“I’m not sure what options we have for redevelopment,” said Ponsart. “We do try to incorporate the north end in our events. We tried a shuttle for Ladies Night Out to get people up there.”

“Are any new businesses coming to town?” I asked.

“Mike Wagner’s Holly Real Estate Company is in the process of finding a storefront,” she said. “They are already listing commercial properties. The Blackthorn Pub is due to open February 15.  This month we will have ribbon-cuttings for Happy’s Pizza, Hydrogrow, and The Blackberry Bakery.”

Hope Ponsart and the Holly DDA can be contacted at www.mainstreetholly.com, and the Oakland County Main Street program can be contacted at www.oakgov.com.

In the 1970’s, two graduate students of architecture at Yale University, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk and Andres Duany, began to study the increasing suburbanization of America and the consequent effect of “suburban sprawl.” Since the 1950’s, America’s cities saw a gradual exodus to beyond the city limits; undeveloped rural areas away from the density of urban centers provided for new generations desiring a more secluded lifestyle.

This exodus away from cities was also accelerated and bolstered by America’s love affair with the automobile and the consequent strength of the auto industry. As people moved farther away from mass transit or commercial centers, commuting necessitated that families have at least one automobile, if not two. More cars obviously meant more traffic, which necessitated more roads among these burgeoning suburban communities. And as the inner suburbs became as congested and hectic as the city proper, people moved out farther, necessitating more cars, more traffic, and more roads.

This developing cycle of sprawl formed a stark contrast to the previous mode of life before the modern concept of the suburb. Metropolitan cities and small towns surprisingly shared a lot of lifestyle aspects in common, simply different in scale. The center of life in pre-suburbia was the neighborhood—most every neighborhood was arranged in some conglomeration of a street grid, with a “main street” or commercial center of sorts. Schools, parks, monuments, or other structures like courthouses, city halls, or post offices served as landmarks to the community.

For the most part, nearly everything one would need on a daily basis was within a ten minute walk to the corner grocery, local tavern, house of worship or downtown stores and offices. Also within that walking radius was the local bus stop, street car/trolley station or cab stands that could take citizens to other neighborhoods, industrial districts, the city downtown, or beyond. Automobiles were indeed specialty goods, if not luxuries for many families.

What was most important about the traditional neighborhood was that it inherently developed a sense of community among its residents. Classical styles of buildings put houses close together and close to the street, with broad front porches. Brownstones and townhouses had accommodating stoops. The network of narrow streets may have been a geometric convenience, but it served to reduce traffic and expose more people to each other within the neighborhood.

People identified themselves by their municipality to outsiders, “I’m from Detroit,” but to each other they identified themselves by their neighborhood, “I’m from Chandler Park,” because everyone shared a common origin but a unique personal lifestyle. As such, it was easier for residents to be involved in maintaining and improving the quality of life in their neighborhoods—they didn’t just live there, they were a part of it.

By the 1960’s, however, the first subdivisions were being built just outside the city limits. Instead of an integrating grid of streets, they were a self-enclosed amalgamation of circular roads and cul-de-sacs, connected only to side arteries or trunk lines by one or two entry ways. Houses were built far back with circular drives and back patios. Since these new subdivisions did not accommodate local businesses, the strip malls began to appear on the trunk roads; even if a neighborhood was only a mile away, patronage required cars due to the new traffic and inconvenience of walking. The focus of developers and planners shifted away from that inherent community and more toward concerns about traffic and parking, convenience through mass development, and expansion though segregation.

Plater-Zyberk and Duany, among others, noticed this alarming trend in urban and suburban planning and the effect it was having on communities, families and individuals. Their solution to the problem of suburban sprawl was a new approach to community building and planning they called, “New Urbanism,” (or neo-traditionalism) and the basis of this approach was the traditional American small town.

I was standing in the front window of My Sweet Holly, gazing into the street without purpose when I saw the most unbelievable sight. At first, I thought I must be mistaken. But sure enough, I saw the front door of Trains and Things open. I held my breath for a moment, wondering if perhaps someone had just stopped in to address a building problem or some such thing. But then I saw it.  The sign in the window.  It said, Open.

I jumped and shouted to my friends, “Trains and Things is open! Trains and Things is open!” And then, “I’m going over there!” Willy-nilly I ran through the slushy street toward my destination. Once on the other side I gazed in awe at a sidewalk sandwich sign, also proclaiming, Open.

I half expected it to be a joke, or a mistake, and so when I turned the handle to open the door, I was somewhat surprised that it gave way.

I stepped inside to a small dreary vestibule carpeted with a green nylon loop that must be as old as I am. Behind a dusty counter was a pleasant-looking teen-aged girl. She welcomed me to her grandfather’s model train “museum.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I’ve lived here for six years and have never once seen the place open. I’ve heard legends over the years of the place being open a time or two, but I never thought I’d see the day myself.

The girl explained that admission to the museum was two dollars, and that there were a few things also for sale. She motioned towards a small table of what looked to be Matchbox cars, without boxes.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked. “I’ve never seen you open before.”

“Well,” she said, “We live in Waterford, and we don’t get up here very often.”

I’ll say! I would think the owners lived in Australia for as often as they are open.

Not convinced that I had the whole story, I asked, “So what’s the plan? Are you going to be open more often? Are you selling the place?”

“Well,” the girl said, “this is my grandpa’s museum, and he’s very fond of his collection. We won’t do anything with it while he’s around.” Then she surmised that her family might put the collection up for auction once Grandpa has passed away.

As I stood there, wondering what to do or say next, an older couple walked in. The gentleman said, “We’ve stopped by here before, and you weren’t open.” The girl gave him a similar spiel to what she had given me. The couple walked past me, into the museum, without paying the $2 admission fee.

Not truly interested in dusty model trains, I had no intention of paying a fee to go in and look further. Instead, I stood there on my cell phone, calling everyone I could think of who might be interested, telling them that Trains and Things was finally open. Then I thanked the girl and left.

Hours later, I began to wish I had interviewed the girl, for the purpose of sharing the information here. I decided I should have asked her her name, her grandfather’s name, and why she decided to open the museum on this day. I kicked myself for not asking her when the last time was that they opened their doors, and when they expect to do it again.

So I jumped in the car, pen and notepad in hand, and went back to Trains and Things. Less than five hours after I had seen the doors open, at a few minutes before four o’clock, I found the lights off, door closed, and gates locked. It was as if it had never happened. This “occupied vacancy” looked as it had before, dark and unwelcoming, with no signs of ever having hosted a visitor.