Engaged versus Enraged

I'm so sore I can barely type (KIDDING!). I helped out yesterday as a bunch of neighbors, for Earth Day, took a crack (pun intended) at one of the Gateway's to Norwich for a blitz cleaning campaign. About three dozen folks toted the barge and lifted the bale as countless others across the country were doing and maybe if we're fortunate Tami P will have persuaded Z & W (the root beer folks? Not exactly) to add some of her pictures of the goings-on to the Z4 website, so I (and others) can just ache all over again thinking about it.

As I mentioned, we weren't alone on the clean and green frontier and that, for me, was part of the appeal of getting out and pitching in to pick up (and there was a lot of stuff to pick up!). I worry sometimes that too many of us see where we live as someplace we store our stuff and sleep when we're not working. And these days, in this economic environment, defining yourself by what you do for a living can be a setup for heartache when the image I'm making is not the image I see when the Man in the Mirror is talking to me.

I'm smiling as I remember how many folks showed up to pick up discarded coffee cups and other detritus on the human highway, because I think it was more than usually turn out for City Council meetings (certainly more than were in Norwich Tech Monday night for the first of the budget hearings) and that's more than too bad for both the elected and the electorate.

Somewhere, as we built this nation of ours, with its high tech heartbeat and speed of light soulessness, we may have lost our way. Maybe it's just where I live, where in the last municipal elections, registered voter turnout was less than 28% and, this past November, despite the historical portent and intent of the choices, no records were set for voter participation. But I suspect not. It's a good thing we fought for and won our independence when we did, maybe, because perhaps we'd feel differently now. 'Across the Delaware in that, General Georgie? Gotta tell ya, dude, don't like your chances all that much. What's so fricking great about South Central Jersey in the dead of winter anyway? Paramus is at least two hours north and the Turnpike doesn't get built for another 140 years!'

And on the other hand, as I watched and learned last week, when people of all political stripes and beliefs decide they've had enough, sometimes other folks question their right to express themselves. We had three (I think) in Connecticut--Tax Day protests/rallies it had a lot of names--and one of them was in Norwich (I had physical therapy, though a lot of good that did me yesterday), while another was in Hartford. (I don't know where the third one was). There were close to a thousand as I understand it, across the country, and aside from a lot of folks who live next door to each other standing shoulder to shoulder to shout about how they'd like a little more regard paid to them by what they perceive as 'those guys in the government.'

The Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights were empowered by the authority they received from 'we the people', all of us for all time, but we've now gone for decades where government has been something done to us, not for us and every debate and discussion has to have an inside and an outside, an 'us' and a 'them'.

From what I'd read about the Tax Day rally in Norwich, and had seen on a variety of news channel, political leaders from across the spectrum were involved. It wasn't just This Party against That Party and most of those involved think of themselves as private citizens, husbands, wives, taxpayers, neighbors well before they slap a political affiliation on themselves. And yet, in the days that have followed the rallies, I've heard more and more of what sounds like the Star-Belly Sneetches against the Plain Belly Sneetches with media pundits serving as Sylvester McMonkey McBean.

We've spent years labelling what were once The Loyal Opposition, Spawn of Satan and worse and we have commentators with enough news networks cheer lead 24/7 for every pig-headed ideology under the heavens so that we never need to consider someone else's perspective or point of view--much less if it could have any merit. I'm not real smart, but I'm smart enough to know we can't keep on keeping on like this where we shout down on another for sport. We've gotten ourselves into some tight places where we need all the hands on the oars on both sides of the boat, and all rowing in the same direction.

"Changing their stars every minute or two. They kept paying money. They kept running through until the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew Whether this one was that one or that one was this one. Or which one Was what one or what one was who. Then, when every last cent of their money was spent, The Fix-It-Up Chappie packed up. And he went. And he laughed as he drove In his car up the beach, 'They never will learn. No. You can’t Teach a Sneetch!'
-bill kenny