This election season, at least in my neighborhood, is what in the Major Leagues is called 'small ball.' We're not choosing representatives or senators to either our state or nation's capital. We are choosing neighbors to be on the Board of Education and on the City Council as aldermen and/or as a Mayor.
We don't usually do much better than about 25% voter turnout (on a good day, with a stiff breeze, downhill) even though traditionally the polls open at six in the morning and don't close until eight at night. I'm always impressed by the number of folks who carp and mewl at how things get done but who don't vote because (I suspect) they don't want to get any on themselves.
And that's too bad as the easiest level to affect meaningful political change is right here and now at the local one. Find a drummer and march along and if you don't like any of the beats, march to your own, otherwise, you'll get the expected result.
I went to prep school practically around the corner from that shop and stopped by there often not that I dared purchase anything-I cannot imagine the item that would have survived the train ride home to Jersey especially in light of my Fellow Traveler, but that's not my actual point today (or any day).
We have some hard feelings, reports a newspaper, about original ownership of an idea and basically who claimed what first for Spain (in the metaphoric sense of the word). As you may have realized where you live, too, charter revision is to government what reorganization is to business-a panacea, a holy grail and a dessert topping all rolled into one.
The fellow who's reportedly perturbed at the theft of his idea also goes to great lengths to point out at every occasion that he is the only veteran seeking the office of Mayor. I'm a veteran as well (twice as much time on active duty as The Candidate) but I guess I'm not as good a veteran since I fail to see what being a veteran has to do with being the Mayor. Perhaps that's his other original idea.
It's possible I'm just jealous about ownership claims because the last time I had an original idea it died of loneliness. I was going to write a poem about that with my wife but I decided I wasn't going to simply sit here bickering. 57 varieties of not.