Being your commissioner is demanding, compelling, and incredibly wide ranging. In my first term I have worked to increase housing supply, keep healthcare accessible, and attend to our smallest communities. There is more to do, and I am asking for four more years to continue doing my best.

I studied physics in college but I don’t consider myself a scientist. I am, however, inherently curious. I am someone who goes to meetings because the problems are genuinely interesting, who reads the technical reports, and who thinks the details matter. When the conversation in the commissioner's office turns to renewable energy, wildfire risk, water rights, or health care costs, I do not reach for talking points. I reach for what I actually know. And when I don’t know enough, I listen to everyone involved and reach out to get the facts.

A Real Decision

I faced a tough decision while I was chairman of the Board of Directors at Mid-Columbia Medical Center which was then affiliated with Oregon Health Sciences University. The affiliation was supposed to bolster the resources available to MCMC and increase staffing. Instead, after a few years the financial picture was getting weaker by the month and the expected support had not materialized.

As I wrestled with the problem, I realized that I was following a practice called discernment that I had learned from the Jesuits. When wrestling with opposing choices, the basic idea of discernment is to first get one’s own desires out of the picture. Since parts of the hospital benefited from OHSU while other parts were being harmed, and large institutions are justifiably loath to change, I knew I needed to let go of any personal expectation that my decision would be popular.

The next step was to dig deeply into the details of the contract with OHSU and try to negotiate ways to resolve problems while staying affiliated. After a key provision allowing OHSU interns to deliver babies at MCMC fell through, I kept hearing from others that the problem stemmed from personality conflicts which to me sounded more like an excuse than an explanation. My curiosity into how things work extends into the structure and culture of organizations.

Fundamentally, as the agreement was written, the goals of OHSU as a research institution did no align with the goals of MCMC as a rural acute care hospital. After more failed efforts to find a workable solution, I chose to start the process to separate MCMC from OHSU even though I wished it had turned out differently. One has to put one’s personal interest aside when working for the public good.

Roots

I grew up in The Dalles, contained by the ridges of the Columbia Gorge. My parents, grandparents, cousins, school, church, and friends were all within walking or bicycle distance. I am deeply grateful that my life’s journey has brought me back to Wasco County. I have learned a lot from my travels and adventures in far away places and feel compelled to give back to the community that raised me.

My father, Minor Brady, ran Brady's Market — where Farm Stand is now. Watching him work, I learned that you treat people with care and respect, and you take responsibility for your decisions. I worked in his orchard behind Dry Hollow School, where I learned that honest labor has its own quiet reward. When he served on the school board, I saw that leadership is just another name for service. I have not found a reason to revise any of those lessons.

Education

My favorite subject from St. Mary's Academy through Gonzaga University was always science. I majored in physics because it is the most fundamental discipline — if you understand physics, you begin to understand everything else. That has turned out to be surprisingly practical as a commissioner. I can follow a technical argument about energy infrastructure or fire behavior or public health without getting lost. I ask better questions because of it.

Gonzaga, I should note, did not learn to play basketball until after I graduated.

The Jesuits

After Gonzaga I entered the Jesuit order, intending to become a Catholic priest. My mother predicted that was not going to happen. She was right. But I do not regret a day of those seven years. I worked alongside people living on skid row in Tacoma. I worked with astronomers at the Pope's summer residence in Italy. I taught at Jesuit High School in Beaverton. The Jesuits taught me to think carefully, act deliberately, and care about people who are struggling. Those habits have not left me.

Teaching eventually made clear that the priesthood was not my path. But service was. That has never changed.

Venezuela

When our daughters were two and four years old, my wife Mary Jo Commerford and I were accepted into Maryknoll, a Catholic mission organization. After a year of preparation in New York and Bolivia, we moved our young family into a poor community called Pavia, near Barquisimeto, Venezuela.

We lived among the people we were there to serve. Same dirt streets, same daily difficulties of unclean water, same mosquito borne diseases, and shared moments of accomplishments and unexpected joy. Mary Jo worked with women's groups and youth organizations. I led a confirmation group and started a local ecology project. From a values perspective, it was a seamless blend of family, faith, and service.

There was a moment, the most dramatic moment of my life, that describes how I work. Our ecology group was asked by a community high in the Andes to stop a well-connected operator from digging up a small mountain that was the water source for their farms. My approach was to learn what laws applied regarding mines and water sources and then teach how to use a GPS to plot the springs on a map during multiple treks around the mountain. The conflict came to a climax at hearing when we finally learned the precise location of the mine. Having done our homework, I used the GPS to prove the mine was too close to a critical spring of water. We later established that the mining project was based on bribery and corruption. The mountain is still there because we combined our values with the facts on the ground.

We stayed nine years. When we came home to The Dalles in 2004, I was more patient, more resourceful, and more convinced than ever that the measure of any community is how it treats the people who are most vulnerable. I was also very glad to be home.

Eighteen Years Teaching

Back in The Dalles, I spent eighteen years teaching science in the North Wasco School District — two years at the junior high, four years at the high school, and nine years in between teaching at NORCOR, our regional jail facility.

At NORCOR I taught every subject, year-round, to young people who had mostly been failed by the systems around them. My approach was straightforward: give them your full attention, respect their intelligence, and do not condescend. They could smell whether I respected them or not and I passed their test because I saw survivors in each of them. Those nine years taught me much about resilience, about what people actually need to change their lives, and about the limits and possibilities of institutions.

Community Work Before the Commission

I joined The Dalles Watershed Council because the health of our local streams is a practical problem that matters — not a poster on a wall. I have re-engaged with that work recently to support enhancements to Chenoweth Creek and to support the City of The Dalles to purchase 150 acres at the Crow Creek Dam from the Federal government.

While teaching at The Dalles High School, I had the privilege of working with Joan Silver to do something about the condition of the high school building. We organized a group, surveyed the community, and presented a study to persuade the school board to pursue a construction bond. In retrospect, the plan that was adopted was too complicated, too ambitious, and the bond did not pass. The building problem has only gotten worse, and I have not stopped thinking about it.

I started attending Northern Wasco County PUD meetings because the topics genuinely interested me — energy systems, infrastructure, the technical machinery that holds a community together. The PUD board was surprised and grateful to see anyone attend their meeting just out of interest. When I later decided to run for a board seat, I lost to Barbara Nagle, the long-time incumbent, by a decent margin. I was disappointed to lose, but proud to have run a positive campaign that did not discredit my opponent. I have never run a negative campaign and never will. I know I can keep this promise because this will be my last election.

Just a few months after the PUD election I was asked to join the Board of Directors of Mid-Columbia Medical Center. I accepted knowing it would be a steep learning curve — health care governance is genuinely complex — and it was. The board eventually asked me to serve as chairman. As I described above, I led the transition away from OHSU and began the merger process with Adventist Health. Neither of those was simple. Both required listening carefully to people with conflicting interests, understanding the technical and financial realities, and making tough decisions that I was willing to defend. I resigned from the board to run for county commissioner in 2022.

Why I Am Asking for Four More Years

Wasco County Commission is a non-partisan board which matches the practical nature of rural life. We have real problems — water, infrastructure, economic development, public safety, land use, fire protection — and we need people working on them who understand the specifics without distortions from political dogmas.

I have spent my career learning how things work and finding ways to make them work better, usually with limited resources and competing priorities. That is what a county commissioner does. I am not finished, and I am asking for the opportunity to keep going.