Loopy little people in improbably bright clothes twirl through a painted sky of floating hearts and plants, and one even sports the unlikely shade of eggplant-purple hair that was my early-1990s trademark.

Blazed across the rainbow sky are golden letters that read, "Stay in your heart and tell the truth."

It's a quote I've been thinking about a lot lately.

In our short year-and-a-half in office, we've had to face a multitude of unpleasant truths, ranging from back-breaking budget gaps to on-going criminal investigations to the advanced deterioration of our beachfront treasures.

But even when the news is controversial or distressing, these are sometimes the most straightforward situations to analyze and report.

Not that the answers are easy, immediate or popular. A reporter recently told me that he was going to write an editorial criticizing one of our city departments.

"That's fine," I snapped, a bit harder than I should have. "Pick anything in Asbury Park and I'll write five critical editorials describing why it needs more money, more equipment, better processes, or more personnel. We're moving as fast as we can!"

But, as a first-time elected official, I've found that learning to deal with the squishier "untruths" around you is the hardest part of the job. What do you do with the selected crusaders who plead publicly for "mom and pop" issues, when their behind-the-scene actions convince you that their real agenda is a lot less benevolent?

How do you deal with the lies in a newspaper ad placed by a concerned citizen who is most likely neither? What about the comments at the microphone designed solely to disrupt a meeting or to sow fear or distrust among neighbors?

Do you publicly challenge them (as the perpetrators fervently hope you will) and risk initiating a media cat fight, or do you ignore them and pray that people will see through it all?

Some of the claims I've heard in recent months definitely border on National Enquirer material: According to the rumor mill, I've apparently had an affair with everyone but a space alien, as has almost everyone we've hired. (Obviously, the perpetrators of these particular lies need to take a 360-degree look at my sweetheart of a husband.)

Then there's the even more insidious lies, which seem to be gathering momentum in recent months.

For example, residents have recently been told that I've vowed to drive minority businesses out of town, that I refused to sign a proclamation honoring a retiring city teacher, or that I recently announced at a public meeting that I was going to "Run all you [bleeps] out of town." (Substitute the most offensive racial epithet you can think of here, and you'll get the idea.)

What is the point of this game-playing? Simply to divide us as a community - and keep us divided - at a time when we are finally coming together.

How do we deal with it? If there's one truth I've learned from life in general and from Asbury Park in particular, it's that if we don't give the bullies power over us, then they will have none.

Because the bullies may be loud in voice, but they are reassuringly few in numbers. And responding to them will only divert our attention (and the attention of the larger community watching us) from the very real challenges that we need to address as a family.

Which brings me to the real reason why I wanted to write this column, even though I've been struggling for days to find the appropriate words.

Over the past year, I've been distressed to see a handful of bullies successfully intimidate some residents out of participating in public meetings.

For example, one 60-something woman I know went to a city council meeting with her friends last year. They wound up sitting next to another woman who repeatedly referred to me under her breath (obviously for my friend's benefit) as "just another white witch." (They actually used a stronger word than "witch.")

The result? My friend told me that they felt too threatened to return to another meeting.

The same situation has occurred when black members of the community heard other black residents derided as "Uncle Toms" (or worse) because they spoke in favor of some city program at the microphone.

And it doesn't matter whether these residents withdraw in fear or frustration. The result is the same. And the result is no longer acceptable.

Our council's new meeting decorum rules (drawn from those in other towns) have done a lot to inhibit the most blatant forms of harassment at public meetings, but these subtler forms - coupled with the malicious "tall tales" being planted in our community - are a real cause of concern to many Asbury Park residents.

And with good reason, as anyone who has been following the reports of increased, often bias-related confrontations among our schoolchildren can attest.

Just last week, a 13-year-old Asbury Park student had his face severely beaten in by a group of older children who ambushed him on his way home from school. He spent several days in the hospital and still has not returned to class.

This is the legacy that lies and hate have brought us for far too long in Asbury Park, and it's one that we as a community - no matter what our differences - can no longer accept.