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This, I know, won’t please some folks, maybe a lot of folks. I think Bruce Kimball should get his driver’s license back.

This is the Bruce Kimball who, in the summer of 1988, sped down a Brandon road and plowed through a group of college and high school students. He was drunk, and two students died. He was convicted of two counts of driving under the influence manslaughter and three counts of DUI causing serious bodily injury.

The former Olympic diver served nearly five years in jail and completed an intensive drug and alcohol treatment program. He also had his driver’s license revoked for life.

Now he’s married, has a son and works as a diving coach at a suburban Chicago high school. He has petitioned for the reinstatement of his license. An Illinois judge recently said the determination on Kimball’s request should be made by the Illinois secretary of state’s administrative court. In effect, the judge said, it must be proven that he would be a risk today behind the wheel.

Understandably, some who were close to the victims are aghast at the possibility that Kimball might drive again. But there’s a broader issue, one that can’t be decided — or unduly influenced — by those most touched and traumatized by Kimball’s actions 15 years ago. Retribution and justice are not synonyms.

By all accounts, Kimball was a model prisoner who made something of himself when he got out. That, in itself, is rare. And, yes, as a recovering alcoholic, he’s still taking it “one day at a time.”

But if Bruce Kimball is the poster boy for what horrific things can happen when a drunk gets behind the wheel, he’s also poster material for legitimate rehabilitation. Otherwise, he’s being treated as a garden variety ex-con who is likely to prey again. Arguably, he isn’t. To the degree that any price can ever be exacted for having caused a loss of life, Kimball has paid what was asked.

He can never escape what he did — in or out of jail, on or off probation. Just as he can never undo what he did. But now an Illinois judge says that absent actual proof he might be more of a risk than the average motorist, it makes no sense to continue to punish him by withholding driving privileges. Indeed, a driver’s license would reinforce the rehab. He is, demonstrably, not the same out-of-control person he was in 1988.

If Kimball regains his driver’s license, it is no disrespect to his victims. No one is forgetting what Kimball did 15 years ago, and no one is forgetting those whose lives ended prematurely and tragically because of him.

If anything, a restoration of Kimball’s driving privileges would mean that we haven’t forgotten the composite parts that comprise the “criminal justice” system.

Would that he hadn’t been so prescient.

Pam Iorio’s run to City Hall was the perfect campaign storm — starting with her perfectly timed re-entry into the race. More than four months into her administration, timing — as in sooner really means sooner — remains an Iorio forte.

Out of the blocks, she brought in Fred Karl. He, in turn, brought a wealth of experience and instant credibility to the fledgling administration. Later she fired the city’s solid waste director, Tony McBride, signaling to all that business as usual — if it even hinted at impropriety — was no way to do business. And somebody in officialdom finally had to say it: “Poe (Garage) must go.”

*The most recent example of propitious timing: proposing higher fees for parking, sewer service and garbage collection plus a new stormwater tax. The case can be made for their need; it’s a matter of exactly how much and exactly when. The initiative adheres to a time-honored rule of thumb: if you need to do something with some political down side, do it as soon as possible in a new regime, when good will is at a peak. Over time, no one will remember what the rates were before the summer of ’03, but they will hold the mayor accountable for any erosion in public services or a dip in the city’s credit rating.

Over time, the overriding questions are more likely to be about the new police chief, “Operation Commitment,” downtown’s cultural arts’ catalyst and stuff not yet on anyone’s immediate radar.

*And speaking of the arts, the mayor’s stand on fund-raising and construction of the new Tampa Museum of Art is a function of timing as much as financial prudence. Iorio says ground will stay unbroken until the museum’s backers raise the rest of the money — $17 million. This does a couple of things.

Right off, it sends all the right stewardship signals to taxpayers. They won’t have to ante up in a worst-case scenario.

It also says to all those on Jerry Divers’ hit list that NOW is the time to come to the aid of their museum’s capital campaign chairman. Although not everyone is in love with the museum’s Rafael Vinoly design, most folks agree that it has to happen. Really soon. But nothing comes out of the ground until all the money is accounted for, the mayor maintains.

Iorio, of course, isn’t precluded from ultimately saying at a certain, strategic point: “The response to the museum’s campaign has been extremely positive. Overwhelming, in fact. People obviously understand how critically important this is to our efforts in making Tampa a more livable city. And from a personal standpoint, I’ve been extremely gratified at how the community has responded to what certain pundits have been dubbing the ‘Pam & Paul’ show. Well, I can assure you that, while it’s been fun, it hasn’t been some political song and dance. It’s also been work — but very satisfying work.

“As a result, I’m now confident that we can give the go-ahead on construction, secure in the confidence that the remaining dollars will be forthcoming when everyone gets even more energized at the sight of the museum coming out of the ground. It also means that we dodge the bullet of increased construction costs with any further delay.”

The mayor, of course, might not change her mind. But if she does, the timing won’t be happenstance.

It’s no secret that Paul Wilborn, the city’s “creative industries manager,” has lots of folks in his eclectic corner wishing him well — and hoping for the best. These can be daunting times for the arts.

In a better position than most to know exactly how formidable is the Wilborn task is Kurt Loft of the Tampa Tribune. No one locally, certainly not in the media, approaches him as a “Renaissance man.” The veteran reporter’s writings range from anything in the sciences to anything on stage. He also knows his way around fine dining, as his restaurant reviews attest.

“I’m curious to see if this is going to work,” says Loft. “The city is financially strapped. Paul’s a pioneer in this role. I think we’re all waiting to see how well he works it and nurtures it. The guy has a lot of talent. If anyone can, he can.”

Loft laments certain trends in the arts that underscore Wilborn’s challenge.

“When you look at the (raiding of) trust funds, the orchestra in debt, it can get discouraging,” notes Loft. “And isn’t it a sad state of affairs that sports gets 200 pages a week in the newspaper to report on (Bucs’) wind sprints and the arts gets one or two?

“The arts are increasingly isolationist,” adds Loft. “You can buy a CD instead of attending a live performance. And that isolationist idea of the arts is here to stay. Selling a vibrant arts community is one tough nut to crack.”

Wilborn, says Loft, will have “his fingers in a lot of pots. He has to stay focused and not be distracted. I think he can manage it.

“I’m all for what the mayor is doing,” stresses Loft. “The arts aren’t frivolous. They are a reflection of the quality of life. The reason people live here is primarily the quality of life.”

This year’s fulltime enrollment at the University of Tampa is approximately 3,700. It’s another record fall class for Tampa’s private, “medium-sized comprehensive” university. The growth is as obvious as four new residence halls in five years, 30 new fulltime faculty on board this year and a notable — and noticeable — hike in foreign students, especially from Europe, the Middle East and the Caribbean.

The growth, however, needs context. As recently as 1994, fulltime enrollment was only 1,420. Speculation was rife that the small school with the iconic minarets might not make it. Scenarios of UT becoming the downtown campus of the University of South Florida were not far-fetched.

“Ten years ago we were a school of second choice,” explains Grant Donaldson, UT’s director of public information. “Now we’re increasingly becoming a school of first choice. When students visit, they are impressed. This is now a highly technologically advanced campus.”