A great neighbor
Georgie Rasco for nearly 15 years has worked with more than 450 neighborhood associations in OKC to ensure citizens’ voices are heard at city hall meetings and more.
Residents of an Oklahoma City neighborhood recently learned their beloved postman was retiring after 27 years, and planned a surprise party — with balloons and cake — for him as he rounded the final corner of his route on his last day.
It’s the kind of story that Georgie Rasco relishes.
“It's all about community, and grounds adults and children, and makes everyone realize that postal carriers are every bit as important as firefighters, preachers and anyone else,” she said.
As executive director of the 40-year-old Neighborhood Alliance of Central Oklahoma, Rasco for nearly 15 years has worked with more than 450 neighborhood associations in greater Oklahoma City to ensure citizens’ voices are heard at city hall budget meetings and more.
Every year, she addresses some 100 of those associations, and manages a staff of six and an annual budget of $560,000.
“We offer a lot of education and training,” Rasco said, “from how to maintain private roads, establish legal homeowners associations, run effective meetings, plan strategically and deal with disgruntled people. The skills sets translate to other areas of residents’ lives, including church, PTA and work.”
The alliance's training and connections allow neighborhood leaders to work alongside police, fire, school administrators, city officials, corporations, and other nonprofits and foundations to improve their neighborhoods, Rasco said.
From her offices at 1236 NW 36 — an old Oklahoma City fire station — Rasco recently sat down with The Oklahoman to talk about her life and career. This is an edited transcript: Q: Tell us about your roots. A: My mom is from Czechoslovakia, and immigrated here with her parents. The story goes that her father, my grandfather, landed in New York and said, “Here’s all the money I have. How far can I get with it?” He traveled by train to Abilene, Texas, and settled in nearby Stamford.
My parents knew each other since the first grade. He remembered her as the little girl whose parents didn’t speak English. My dad went on to serve in the Army, and proposed to my mom when he, in uniform, came home and visited her at Hardin-Simmons University. From there, they moved to Pampa, Texas, and on to Enid, where he worked briefly in the oil field before building a career with Union Equity Grain Exchange.
I have an older brother, who works in the energy industry in Enid, and younger sister, who’s a computer programmer in Denver. We lost our dad at Christmas, but our mom still lives on her own and is doing fabulously.
Q: Were you exposed to your mom’s Czechoslovakian heritage?
A: Yes. Every Easter and Christmas, my mom’s kitchen became a bakery. She made fabulous kolaches. She announced a few years ago that she was done making them. We suffered through one Christmas without them. But I subsequently spent a weekend with my mom to learn how to make them, and am now in charge of baking the 12 to 14 dozen for family gatherings. The best compliment I had from my dad before he died was “Your kolaches are as good as your mom’s.”
Q: What defined your childhood
in Enid?
A: From age 15 and for five summers, I was color guard captain and in charge of the rifles and flags on Enid’s Valiant Knights Drum and Bugle Corps. Starting two days after school let out, we traveled nationwide and competed. It was almost like a Broadway show on a football field with lots of dance and music, including trumpets and brass instruments. The experience shaped me and my leadership skills. I was part of the staff, who were mostly in their early 20s, and we had evening meetings every other weekend. Invariably, my dad would call at 11 p.m. “Georgie,” they’d say, “It’s your dad. He said it’s time to go home.” My younger sister, who was a soprano player, and I traveled together with the corps for two summers.
Q: Where’d you work before the Neighborhood Alliance?
A: I started out as a patient liaison at the former Willow View mental health hospital. Then I directed the YWCA Rape Crisis Center and the Oklahoma Coalition Against Domestic Violence and Sexual Abuse. I worked a few years for the Texas Council on Family Violence and learned, among other things, that it’s really tough to pass legislation there, with the legislature in session for only six months every other year. Just prior to coming here, I
served two years as director of the Oklahoma Literacy Coalition.
Q: You didn’t come out as an openly gay woman until you were in your late 30s. Why?
A: My therapist knew I was gay before I did. I’d gone to see her for depression issues. I knew I wanted love in my life, and I didn’t know how to get it. I wasn’t attracted to men, but I didn’t yet know I was gay. Then I worried about how I would tell my parents I was gay. My therapist explained a big revelation wasn’t necessary; only to show them I was happy with my life, that I had a relationship with a fabulous woman whom I’d bring around them, and they’d figure it out. Two years after my wife Sally — my first and only love — and I met, we bought our first house. That’s when we realized my parents got it. My dad turned to Sally and said, “You take care of her.”
Q: What’s been your biggest life challenge?
A: I’m used to being in charge and in control. But four years ago, I had emergency triple bypass surgery followed by four months of recovery. Both of my parents had heart problems, so I should’ve known I was destined to. But it sneaked up on me. I started having chest pain and got a stent in November. But the blood thinner, which was supposed to help the blood run through the stent, didn’t work for me. That January, I met with my staff to start planning for my surgery, and subsequent absence, two weeks out. But the very next morning, I was in the ER, admitted to ICU, and had surgery five days later. Funny.
The day after my surgery, Mayor Mick Cornett, looking all dapper, popped in for a visit. My sister-in-law didn’t know him and protectively, and somewhat rudely, asked, “May I help you?” I was out of breath and could barely talk, but was trying to tell her that he was the mayor. It was very sweet. Meanwhile, the director of the St. Anthony Hospital Foundation, who had been on our board, sent me a basket of goodies. The ICU nurses, thinking I was some sort of celebrity, timidly asked, “We should probably know who you are, but who are you?” I explained that I was really nobody, but I get to work with fabulous people.
Q: What’s the No. 1 deterrent to neighborhood crimes?
A: Social neighborhoods. Sidewalks help create that social network, because they allow for more people walking. Consequently, more neighbors meet, visit and watch out for each other.