At the invitation of its student leadership, on Wednesday, April 23, 2025, I strode onto the auditorium stage of my beloved alma mater to address the newly-minted inductees of Clayton A.
I’m flashing the Bat-Signal to assemble this ragtag outfit of swashbuckling scallywags, rakish rogues, and notorious ne’er-do-wells — or at the very least a few municipal bureaucrats — to right our ship and pilot Albany through the choppy waters of destiny. Go A-Team.
As goes the city, so goes the county. And both will be irreversibly injured if Albany sleepwalks into the misapplication of nearly half-a-billion once-in-a-generation dollars.
Farmers’ markets and other such vendor popups are where the community comes to keep the money inside itself. It’s where “neighbors” become a “neighborhood.” It’s how we make a living that makes life worth living.
Love will persist throughout your journeys despite the inevitable losses you’ll endure, amidst the trials you’ll undergo, and even in your darkest hours.
It’s our job as Albany residents, journalists, pundits, personalities, and politicians to make Jeff Buell be the hero we seek — not by following him blindly, but by testing his sense of direction.
