Letter from the Editor: Follow the Leader
Birds following their leader high above Main Street on Sunday evening.
From the Editor:
On Halloween night I was able to hand out candy in the Compo Beach neighborhood with one of my fellow EMTs. Though I thought I bought enough candy, we ran out at around 7:30 - just as a group of teenagers walked towards us and our EMS vehicle.
“We’re all out” I shouted, anticipating them turning around or pelting me with eggs.
One of the boys kept walking towards me; I braced for impact as he opened his pillowcase and said “Here! Take what you want for other kids.” As he did this, another boy rushed over and offered his candy, too. If I could have given them every piece of candy that we handed out that night, it still wouldn’t have been enough to show how impacted I was by their act of kindness.
A while later, a toddler ran up to us holding out two Reese’s Cups - his grandfather explaining to me that the child wouldn’t go back to the house without us taking his Reese’s. We ate them immediately as he ran back to his stoop to wave to us as we drove away; peanut butter stuck to the roofs of our mouths.
—I knew I wanted to write an email ahead of the election tomorrow, but knowing that people will be upset regardless of who “wins” challenged me. So I wrote down “candy” in my Notes app as a story for this email, because regardless of any election and who are leaders are: we will be in charge of our own kindness, and we always have been.
Yesterday I sat at Gold’s and, after botching the Wordle, noticed a table of three teenagers. They sat amongst Dunkin Donuts bags and other garbage all over the table. I got annoyed thinking that they would be leaving it to be cleaned up by the staff.
And then, again, I was proved wrong. One stood up, wiped his crumbs into his plate, and took his trash to the bin. The other two followed. They all went back to push in their chairs, and checked to make sure it was clean before they paid and left. I added the phrase “cleaning table” to my Notes app before I walked out, too; making sure my spot was clean, too.
Those two good moments sit amongst an unknown amount of good in our community - some of it noticed, some unnoticed. I’d like to think there’s more good than bad, but that’s just me. I’d also like to think that they have nothing to do with who’s elected because in that moment: they were the leaders; they can’t even vote.
Those two good moments also sit against a stark backdrop of tension and division that unfolds ahead of any political season. I see it in the news, in social media, in conversation. You may see it, too. They aren’t just political comments - they’re personal and designed to hurt. I’d also like to think that they, too, have nothing to do with who’s elected because in those moments: we are the leaders. We are responsible for the hatred or anger that we foster or push.
—I am not confident in what tomorrow’s election will bring.
I am confident that whatever happens tomorrow - however you vote/d - our community will still have good in it come Wednesday morning because our kindness is not reliant on who’s elected, or who isn’t elected.
We always have a choice to follow “the leader” - to fall in line behind them. Who is a “leader”?
I hope as we go through this week, that we all follow the leaders who guide us to be better humans - not just political leaders - but our own local leaders, right down to our local teenagers and toddlers who lead us to remember that we are in control of our own kindness.
Go vote if you haven’t already, and regardless of who our next elected officials are: we are in charge of our kindness, not them.
I’ll remember that every time I have a peanut butter cup stuck to the roof of my mouth.
In partnership,
Jaime Bairaktaris
Superintendent: “In moments like these, words just fall short. “
From Westport Public Schools Superintendent Thomas Scarice: “Good evening,
I truly don't know how to start this message. These are among the hardest messages to deliver and process as both a father and a member of the WPS community. Tonight, as I embrace and say goodnight to my 16 year old son, my mind will be miles away.
I am deeply saddened to inform you that one of our students, Staples High School Senior Max Harper, tragically passed away in a motor vehicle accident this afternoon. This loss is heartbreaking for our school and extended community, and I know many of you, along with our students, will feel its impact in the days ahead.
In moments like these, words just fall short. But what we can offer is our unwavering support to those affected by this tragedy, beginning with Max’s family. Please come together during this difficult time—lean on one another and extend compassion to those who are grieving.
In order to ensure that our faculty and staff are fully prepared to appropriately receive our students tomorrow, Staples High School will operate on a two hour delay. All other schools will open at their normal times. The entire faculty will come together, grieve, and be provided guidance and language on how to support our students when they arrive, when they see them in Connections, and also throughout the day.
For any students needing support prior to the opening school, the Staples counseling staff will be available to provide support to individuals and small groups of students.
Staples Principal, Stafford Thomas, will send a follow up email this evening to the Staples families and staff outlining the plans for the day, beginning with the early morning support, and the measures put in place to support students.
All athletic games will be canceled tomorrow but teams will be permitted to meet for light practices or team meetings in order to provide students a place to be with one another after school.
Finally, as you say goodnight to your children, remember this moment and how precious our time together truly is.
With heartfelt sympathy,
Thomas Scarice
Superintendent of Schools
Westport Public Schools”
“we all show up to help”; 29 Rowers Rescued from Long Island Sound
Westport Fire Department photoPress Release:
Westport Police, Westport Fire, and Westport EMS responded to Compo Beach on a report that there were numerous people in the water after a boat they were operating capsized. Responding units found a chaotic scene of youths swimming to shore, arriving by boat, and some still in the water near Cockenoe Island. First Responders immediately began providing care to those individuals who were on shore and coordinating the recovery of people in the water. While accounting for and locating all the people involved, medical care was provided, and two individuals were transported to a local hospital for treatment.
At this time the initial investigation indicates that three (3) rowing sculls and one (1) chase boat launched from Saugatuck Rowing Club. Each rowing scull is 60 feet long and held nine (9) rowers ranging in age from 14-18 while the chase boat was operated by their coach. When the boats reached the area of Cockenoe Island, the weather began to change, and the rowers attempted to return to the rowing club. The rowing sculls began to take on water causing two of them to capsize throwing 18 people into the water. These individuals swam to the chase boat and began to hang onto the side of that boat which caused the chase boat to sink as well. Another chase boat from the rowing club arrived on scene and began to shuttle people to Compo Beach Marina.
At the time of this incident the air temperature was approximately 40 degrees, and the water temperature was 44 degrees.
In total there were 29 people from the rowing club that were involved in this incident.
The following agencies assisted Westport Emergency Services with this incident:
Fairfield Police Marine Division
Stamford Police Marine Division
Noroton Fire Boat
Norwalk Police Marine Division
Norwalk Fire Marine Division
US Coast Guard
The following Emergency Medical Services provided a combined 8 ambulances and 20 personnel:
Norwalk Hospital
American Medical Response (AMR)
Darien EMS
Westport Board of Education assisted by providing a school bus to transport the individuals from Compo Beach to Saugatuck Rowing Club.
“This was truly a team effort” Chief Koskinas stated. “We are grateful for our surrounding agencies who assisted us with this incident and remind our communities that when a large scale event, like this, happens we all show up to help.”
From Behind the Ice Cream Counter: Support Local
Note from the Editor the Ice Cream Scooper:
When I was 18, I saw an email from Al DiGuido about needing people to help scoop ice cream on the weekends.
Last night, now 26 years old, I helped lock the doors to Saugatuck Sweets Westport for its final time. It began to rain again as the small group of us stood outside looking at the darkened storefront. As one young girl said as she left the store: “they’re tears.”
A chapter ended for the Westport institution; the story continues at the Fairfield location on Reef Road. Same ice cream, candy, Al’s Angels spirit, and good people.
However, as I sit here today, I cannot thank the DiGuidos and the Saugatuck Sweets family enough for all that it’s given me. I was able to work for a locally owned business - and experience every up and down that comes with it. As Westport continues to evolve, I wonder how many teens will ever experience the wonders of working for a family-owned place in Westport. The frustration, the joy, the camaraderie of the staff, feelings of success after surviving a busy night.
From behind an ice cream counter I could observe a very different view of the community. I learned a lot with my head facing the ice cream bins.
I’ve been privy to devastation; a child getting a scoop of ice cream just before his parents gave him the news of his classmate passing away. “You’re lying” he said as he put down his ice cream. I can still hear him saying it. I kept scooping.
I’ve been privy to triumph; siblings running in and both ordering double scoops as they tell me about their mother’s cancer treatment, and how well it was going and the ice cream they’d bring back to her as she rested at home. Their whole family has come in ever since. I kept scooping.
I’ve been privy to pride; dozens of elementary schoolers lined the sidewalk after their concerts - the kids shouting and yelling orders as parents bravely protected their white dresses or button down shirts. Kids in basketball uniforms, soccer cleats, football pads, ballet flats, “Class of 20##” logowear; adults in softball jerseys, business suits, pajamas; police officers, firefighters, EMTs and paramedics in uniform. I kept scooping.
I kept scooping as families came in week after week, year after year. Some came in small enough to be lifted-up to see the ice cream, and left this weekend while looking me in my eyes. I’ve watched as mothers, who enjoyed their free scoops while pregnant, came in with their newborns. Just two weekends ago, a man came in without his wife, but with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen; on his phone was a photo of his beautiful newborn son, and his wife’s ice cream order that he was going to bring home as they get settled in to their new normal. Some of those newborns from our first years in business are in elementary school now - I was able to scoop them their first ice cream as an infant, and their 150th ice cream. They refer to the owners as “aunt” or “uncle”. A few came in to say “goodbye” to the store, and “see you in Fairfield” to the staff.
I kept scooping until we entered the pandemic - then everyone stopped scooping, but Chris and Lisa worked day and night to get families their Easter baskets by leaving them outside on the benches; holding together a store and a business that thrives on long lines and a packed parlor in the midst of a pandemic.
Some things were ritual - each night the entire staff shared dinner together - something that meant even more after the pandemic, some of us coming in just to share dinner even if we weren’t on the schedule to work. We got to know the Saugatuck restaurants and their staffs, like Tutti’s and Match Burger Lobster. We watched as some closed down - like Julian’s, and Parker Mansion, even Commuter Coffee where I’d enjoy breakfast before helping open the shop.
From behind the counter I met some really wonderful people - people who will remain a part of my life much longer than I would have expected any ice cream customer to be.
I’ve also met some really wonderful colleagues - colleagues who will also remain part of my life after we spent some very, very long nights scooping together. We experienced the kindness of some customers, the anger of others. We could predict the orders of people just by looking at them, we knew the orders of the local kids who arrived by bikes or kayaks just the same as the older folks who walked in with their walking canes and their own cooler bag that as ready to carry their to-go quarts home. All of those colleagues now dot the Earth - at school, at jobs, traveling or just “being.” All of them will forever be marked by the shiver they get from hearing the jingle of the bell as the door swung open, and all will forever be marked by some pretty firm forearm muscles.
On rainy days, Chris would make sure that one of us would grab the umbrella that was kept in the corner to walk customers out to their cars if they were moving a bit slower.
On hot summer days, droves of people would show up barefooted and shirtless from their boats or the beach. They’d stare into the window while we worked on their orders, bringing them outside while the salt water still dripped from their hair as the mint ice cream drops began to fall, too. Some parents just borrowed our garden hose to wash down their kids outside after particularly messy encounters with a particularly large ice cream cone on especially hot days.
One night - a group of middle schoolers came in. Customers complained about their loud voices and the space they were taking-up. They were acting like, well, middle schoolers. After a quick conversation, they turned out to be incredible - they ended up sweeping the floors as our crew worked on closing after a busy summer night; they always stopped in to say hi as they rode their bikes past the shop in the years after that.
One afternoon (one of my first ever being allowed to work alone) - a woman came in and asked if I had hot balls. Pallor took over my face and I stuttered for words. She then corrected herself, and asked if we had “Fire Balls”. I pointed to the bin of cinnamon candies, then sat myself down while trying to regain feeling in my fingers and called the owners with my story. I was laughed at, and am still laughed at, for my adolescent misunderstanding.
Another night - a woman came in and ordered a single ice cream; she usually ordered two for the several years leading up to that point. She was told that the ice cream was “on us” when she attempted to pay, and she broke down crying. She continued to come in every week after that - her single ice cream was always ready.
One afternoon - a child came in and we asked about the best and worst part of his week. He exclaimed that he had failed a math test. We took out some dry erase markers - and he, the two other ice cream scoopers, and I all practiced math problems on the ice cream case glass. He came in a few months later and was very proud of the high mark he received on his maths exam, and he continued those good grades for years afterward.
In the midst of a snowstorm, I drove down and opened up the shop on a whim - the parlor was pure magic in a snowstorm. A few police officers stopped in to chat and for a scoop, a few snowplow drivers enjoyed some hot coffee, and then 3 kids showed up with literal skis and snowboards after a long day shredding the gnar at the Birchwood Country Club hill. Everyone began to crowd into the shop as the Christmas lights alerted them to our being open. We ended up propping the door open as people came and went - snow swirling around the Christmas tree in the courtyard as kids slid on the iced over puddles.
On another evening, with a line out of the door - a mother approached me at the cash register. She handed me a jar of honey with her child’s name on it; it came from his own beehive. The child had passed away, the mother explained, and they wanted me to have some of his honey. The glass jar now sits on my desk at home.
Saugatuck Sweets was the epitome of small-town and locally-owned. Some of our first customers, who were just six years old when Chris and Al opened the store, became official employees this past summer - some of them asking every month for years “how old do I have to be to work here?” Their pictures lined the ceiling - each year they got taller and older - the pictures of the local kids remained a time capsule that will now head to Fairfield.
Some of our Saugatuck neighbors became our closest friends - we shared meals, laughs, and complaints as the neighborhood continued to evolve. We celebrated, we vented. We watched the world go by from one of the greatest spots in the world - the parlor was electric on a busy night, peaceful and calming on the coldest winter afternoons - the river and tides constantly giving us a rhythm by which we could work by. Scoop, after scoop, after scoop.
I was spoiled for having Saugatuck Sweets as a weekend job. After particularly long days - I knew I could stop in to the shop to vent to whichever staff members were there. I knew that during my busiest and hardest weeks, I would get a text message from Chris or Lisa that simply said “cookies just came out of the oven”, because they knew I was a sucker for a warm cookie. Everyone put up with my lack of attention-span, especially when I would hear the horn blow that announced the Cribari Bridge opening - and I’d run out to watch every. single. time. I spent hours and hours working on this website after the doors locked - I would sit outside at one of the tables or inside at the countertop and write and re-write until things looked just right, with shots of espresso in between to keep me going. Some days I’d take my small Boston Whaler to work instead of driving, always keeping a spare pair of shoes at the store in case I showed up damp from the drive over, almost always showing up on “Jaime Time” [late].
I was even spoiled for being able to mop the floor - when the world was turned upside down around us, I just scrubbed harder until the seemingly endless drips of ice cream came off of the small blue and white tiles and everything else didn’t matter as much. Back and forth, more hot water, back and forth. A therapy all its own.
Westport was spoiled by this landmark - a cornerstone of many childhoods, and many moments of growing up; a first job, a first ice cream, the first time allowed to go out with friends with a five dollar bill in-hand; a first date, a place to meet after a meeting, or before a meeting; a place to go to celebrate, or to console. Dozens of donations to countless PTAs, sports teams, schools, charities, and free scoops for being pregnant, wearing a helmet on your bike, or just being kind sometimes. It was simply “the place.” We might not have known your name, but we definitely knew your favorite flavor.
As we head into the final days of the holiday season: I urge all of you to support our local businesses. Make it a point to go out and spend some money at your favorites this week. Don’t wait until the news article comes out announcing their closure. These businesses support the community you live in - so go support your community; support the small guys. They don’t have corporations to fall back on when times get tough - they have us.
Thank you to everyone who helped “raise” me the past 8 years from behind the ice cream counter. An experience that has changed my life. I can only hope that the next generations of Westporters will have family-owned businesses to work for as they, too, grow up in our community.
In partnership,
Jaime Bairaktaris, Editor & Ice Cream Scooper
The neon lights turn off for the final time.
Pam Waesche, 76, Died; former Housing Authority steward, Avid Gardener, Beloved Mother
Pamela Vuillemenot Waesche passed away peacefully surrounded by family on December 1, 2023. Obituaries generally provide a timeline of the individual’s life and accomplishments, but Pam’s emotional contributions of love and kindness are much more indicative of the life she led.
Pam and her husband of 53 years, John, shared a love that transcended all life’s struggles and hardships. She was smart, loving, empathetic, and together, she and John raised three daughters they could not be prouder of. Her children and their families are the legacy she leaves behind.
Pam was born September 30, 1947, the daughter of Robert and Leontine Vuillemenot. She attended Oradell public schools in New Jersey where she met John at a 6th grade square dance and is where he first fell in love with her. She graduated from Skidmore College in 1969 with a BA in American Studies. Pam held professional positions at the Guggenheim Museum, Time Life, and The Library of Congress, but her greatest achievement and focus was always on the care and support of her family and others. In Westport, CT, where she and John raised their family, she worked with Au Pair in America and the Westport Housing Authority helping those in need find a home, spent her summer mornings tending and harvesting vegetables for local soup kitchens as a member of the Greens Farms Garden Club, and cared for any animal in distress.
She is survived by her husband, John Waesche, of Westport, CT, her daughters, sons-in laws and nine beloved grandchildren: Wendy, David, Kate, Lucy and Matthew Lavallee of Southport, CT; Dana, Jamey, Jackson, Toby, and Kiley Gifford of Hillsborough, CA; and Erin, George, John, Charlie, and Lily DiGuido of Fairfield, CT. And, a multitude of cherished friends who all provided constant camaraderie, love, and support. They will all miss her presence, laughter, and guidance in their lives. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that a donation to a charity of your choice be made in her name.
Police: Missing Westport Teen is Found
Westport Police Press Release
The Westport Police Detective Bureau worked this case throughout the day on Sunday, following numerous tips that lead to New York City. Through the use of Law Enforcement sharing and social media platforms, The Westport Police Department was able to track Maxwell [redacted] to a New York City Library in the vicinity of Grand Central Station. Our Detectives ultimately reunited Maxwell with his family at approximately 5:00 PM. Westport Police want to thank the Public, our Law Enforcement Partners and the Media in assisting us to reunite this family.
UPDATE: LOCATED - Westport Searches for Missing Teenage Boy; Call Police with Any Info
Westport Police Department Press Release: On November 18, 2023, at approximately 3:30pm Westport Police responded to a report of a missing 15-year-old juvenile from the Newman’s Preservatory Trail off 307-309 Bayberry Lane. [personal information redacted]
Maxwell is a Caucasian male, approximately 5’7” tall, 125 pounds, with long brown surfer style haircut. Last seen wearing navy blue shorts and a navy-blue sweatshirt
Maxwell has been entered as a Missing Person.
Anyone with information that can help locate Maxwell is urged to call the Westport Police Department at 203-341-6000.
A photograph of Maxwell is attached
Westport Police: Two Boaters Missing in Sound after Cockenoe Incident
Westport Police Department:On October 22, 2023 at approximately 4:09 PM Westport Police were alerted to a boating incident with the possibility of two missing people. At approximately 4:00 PM, a boater traveling in the area of Cockenoe Island found a male standing on Nun #2 (a navigational buoy). A second male and female were also rescued from the water. All three individuals were transported into a Norwalk Marina and subsequently to the hospital for evaluation. A translator was requested and once responding officers were able to speak with the involved parties, it was learned that there were a total of five individuals on a small boat that sank causing all parties to enter the water.
Westport Police Marine Division, with the assistance of the US Coast Guard, Norwalk Police Marine Division, Fairfield Police Marine Division, and Suffolk County Air Unit are actively searching the waters in an attempt to locate the vessel that these individuals were on and the two missing parties.
Any boaters who were in the area of Cockenoe Island between the hours of 9:30 AM and 4:00 PM on October 22, 2023 are asked to contact the Westport Police Department at (203)341-6000.
Note from the Editor: Westport | A War of Words
My phone whined as I walked Main Street this morning. Outlook. Gmail. Facebook. iMessage. New York Times. iMessage. Outlook. New York Times. Facebook. SMS. Messenger. Raindrops hit my cheek. Outlook. Gmail. Facebook. iMessage. SMS. Outlook. SnapChat. Messenger. Another drop exploded on my jacket’s hood with the shallow pop echoing in my ear.
I took out my Airpod. I pulled off my hood. I kept walking. Water streaked down my nose. My phone screamed for my attention. Another drop shocked the warm nape of my now-exposed neck. The notifications kept coming. The rain kept falling. I kept walking.
The emails, the calls, texts, social media posts - the emails. The news alerts. The words. So many words. Images, posters - so many posters. Rain. So much rain. Our garden. Our neighbors. Our homes. Our Westport. Our World. Our community. A war.
Raindrops, emails, texts, Facebook posts, news updates all wailing for attention. Bawling for help.
Help. What can we do to help?
Our community needs us right now. We need to reset. We need to step back. We need to regroup.
We need to continue to be a we. Not us. Not them.
We need to be kinder.
I’m watching as anger, hatred, fear, frustration, sadness, and anxiety erodes our own community as swells of emotion lap Westport’s shores; as words shoot out of our mouths and phones and explode on impact for those within their crosshairs.
I walked Imperial Avenue and I listened to an interview of someone who lives in Israel. I looked ahead at the Ruth Steinkraus Cohen Bridge, with the Levitt Pavilion in my foreground, with his shaky voice in my ear. His story pulled me away from the politics of Westport. My mind raced.
What does a bomb even sound like? What would it look like? What would I do? What could I do? I’ve avoided these thoughts - I’ve enjoyed the comfort of the “Westport Bubble.”
Another raindrop exploded on my jacket. I shivered. I walked faster. I listened to the man talking in my ear about his family and neighborhood that were both destroyed. His phone connection cut in and out as I followed each of his words before the interview cut off completely.
I’m watching as we are fighting each other in Westport with emails and social media. We’re fighting our neighbors, fellow PTA parents, sports team coaches, carpool families, high school buddies, volunteer leaders, friends.
I’m watching as our foundation of kindness, respect, civility are eroded into the deep waters of local politics.
In a time when videos of bombings are published to social media, posters of missing people are taped to walls and fences, and progeny are deleted faster than any email sent - I want us to rise up and be there for one another. It’s the least we can do. It’s what we need to do.
We need to step back and reset. We need to stop eroding our own shores and weaponizing our own words. We need to stop finding reasons to hate a neighbor and we need to start finding perspective - especially as we stand together against hate - and use that same yearning for peace abroad to foster peace at home. In your home. In my home. In our neighbors’ homes.
We need to stop sabotaging ourselves by looking for our local leaders to fall before they’ve even stood up.
Should they fall: help them up. They are us. We are them. This is our community.
Stand your ground if you feel wronged or disagree with a decision - speak your piece - but keep the peace. If a bomb fell tomorrow; if Westport changed overnight: what was the last thing you said to your neighbor? What was the last email you sent? What would your legacy be?
It’s time to reset, to step back and see what’s happening around us. It’s also time to step forward and stand tall - shoulder to shoulder - alongside your neighbors, both here and abroad.
We are blessed with safety and comfort here at home while others will never feel those blessings again, yet still the onslaught of words continues from our own shores.
If we have the ability to stop the attacks hitting Westport: why wouldn’t we?
Bombs and raindrops. Notifications and sirens. Emails and guns.
With so much happening in our world - with so many things calling for our attention - we must stand together here at home. We cannot let words be the weapon that tears our community apart while other communities are literally torn apart. We cannot let words be the reason why members of our community stop raising their hands to lead, stop caring for their own neighbors, stop being a part of this community. Words. So many words.
We must appreciate our blessings and be the example of peace that we fight for - that we want the next generation of Westporters to remember and to continue. We need to choose our words wisely.
Step back. Reset. Stand together. Fight for peace in a war of words.
Kindness. Empathy. Grace. Civility. Conversation.
Pick your weapon.
In partnership,
Jaime B.
PS:
I’ve been noticeably absent these past several months. JC has been keeping things moving along as I quietly work in the background on my dayjob and other adventures and goals. Last February, an event made me take a pause and take stock of my life and how I spent my days. Some days I was reading upwards of 30 press releases, 25 arrest reports, dozens of obituaries, and trying to publish all of it while remaining neutral. I was reading over one hundred emails a day. I was inundated with news and the “happenings” of our community. I stepped back and realized I needed a break - there were other things I wanted to strengthen and work on, and so I did. For some time, I nearly completely blocked off all news except for some NPR in the morning. I was able to reset and find my way.
I felt I needed to write the above letter as I have never seen such anger amongst our community as I have these past few weeks, and I’ve never seen such anger amongst our community while another community actively fights a war. My opinion is just that: an opinion. I give it with no authority. I can only hope it might bring peace to those who read it just as it did to me as I wrote down my thoughts on the current state of affairs in Westport.
Take stock of your own life. Find the joy in walking in the rain, in getting stuck in traffic, in sitting in a town meeting without the sound of air raid sirens drowning out the argument at-hand.
Thanks for sticking with us. I’ll be back soon.
Westport Democrats seek Replacement on Board of Finance
Press Release
The Westport DTC is seeking a candidate to fill a vacancy on the Board of Finance to replace Nancie Dupier, who is stepping down. Nancie has served the town with great distinction, and we very much appreciate her service!
Registered Democrats may apply by submitting a statement of interest and bio/resume to Michael Gordon at mgordon906<at>gmail.com
The deadline for submissions is Friday, July 21, at 5:00pm.
Candidate interviews with the Nominating Committee will likely be held on Monday, July 24th.
Interested candidates should be prepared to serve the remaining few months of Nancie’s current term and campaign this fall for a four-year term on the BoF and stand for election in November.
Contact:
Michael Gordon
203 255 2244