Maquinna's Poop du Jour

A Yankee Civics Lesson

I should probably preface this by being clear up front that I'm not American, although I live in the U.S., and at this time I have no interest in becoming a citizen, although a green card would be helpful for practical reasons. I am what the INS calls a 'legal alien' - I have a particular work visa status and as long as I keep my nose clean, they're happy to have me bolster their tax coffers, provided I don't taint the place with my sometimes un-American predilections and independence of thought.

I had managed to avoid, until last night, any activities which would demonstrate an interest in my local government. My appearances in traffic court four years ago and in divorce court last year were rather more paint-by-numbers affairs, and could have taken place nearly anywhere in the western world...except maybe for the fact that the traffic court judge had a Boston accent that JFK himself would have strained to understand.

For some time now Craig has been considering options to place the acreage around our house into a land conservation trust. Most of the old farm was sold off to the state years ago, but thankfully has remained undeveloped under some kind of fish and wildlife protection, but about a tenth of if still remains under his complete control. Bless his heart, he's more interested in seeing it remain as is then selling off chunks here and there to build McMansions on. The fish and wildlife folks have made him an offer that has merit, but lately the local town established its own land trust program and was to hold its first meeting last night, so we were very curious to see how it might compare.

First thing you have to do: find the meeting. Now, this is a small New England town, and I mean *small*. As is typical in this area, the center of town is easily recognized by a grassy square (lately snow-covered) surrounded by a colonial-style town hall, library, school, a number of white-washed churches with their classic tall New England spires, and odds and ends like a 'superette' (small grocery store), a 'packy' (the liquor store), and a local coffee shop with coffee the colour of dirty dishwater and equal appeal. There aren't many options for meeting spaces, and everything is within walking distance.

Craig is fairly certain the land trust meeting is at the town hall, but as we pull up it's pretty much in darkness. There seem to be a lot of lights on and cars across the road at the library, however, so we start walking over there. Someone in a car passes by and yells out the window - "if you're looking for the water board meeting, it's at the Seniors' Center." Oh, thanks. Do you know where the land trust meeting is? "Nope."

All the churches are lit up as we walk to the library - besides being Chinese New Year (most townsfolk here would be completely unaware of that), it's Ash Wednesday, so everyone is headed to evening services. You see people today with bits of ash rubbed on their foreheads - a reminder that this place is far more religious, at least in terms of keeping religious traditions if not actual religious doctrine, than my home on the west coast of Canada.

There's a meeting at the library alright, but it's not the land trust meeting. It's a meeting about classic New England architecture put on by the historical society. We check the notice board, but no news about the land trust meeting. We decide to walk down to the Seniors' Center and see if the water board meeting and the land trust meeting are one and the same.

Busy night in town, laughs Craig.

We walk past the town hall again and down towards the Seniors' Center. An older man is standing on the corner in front of the town hall, looking lost. "I'm looking for the architecture lecture," he says. Oh - well, that's at the library. He thanks us and heads across the road. We walk down to the Seniors' Center, and notice that there are lights on and cars at the school next door. We decide to stop in there first, but of course it's nothing but some kids' gymnastics practice or somesuch.

By the time we walk next door to the Seniors' Center I have to pee so badly I'm walking like Catherine O'Hara in 'Best in Show' when she twists her ankle. I don't care where the meeting is anymore. When I have to pee, I lose all ability to think. The very thought of walking into a water board meeting only makes the situation more dire. Craig finds me a bathroom marked 'Grandmas' and I have my pants down before I even have the door fully closed. My rationale is that even if there are seniors crawling all over the place right now - highly unlikely - their cataracts and deafness will preserve my modesty.

Renewed, we peer into a room where some people are meeting about something. They tell us the water board meeting is in the next room, so we crash that meeting in mid-sentence and ask if this is also the land trust meeting. One guy takes pity on us, looks past the antennae growing out of our heads, and directs us back up to the town hall, where he says the person who is the town comptroller or something is working late, and maybe *she* knows.

So, it's back up to town hall. We knock on the door and out of the darkness comes the very nice lady who lets us in to look at the meetings listed on the bulletin board. She's never heard of the land trust group for our town. Naturally, nothing is listed on the board. Craig says to me, let's go home.

We make our way back home and Craig looks for the mailing from the land trust group. Turns out the meeting is in another town altogether, for some reason, and the address of the meeting isn't even listed. I put on my pajamas and pour myself a drink. Craig pulls out a movie from the video collection, and we watch Audrey Hepburn and her giraffe-neck in 'Wait Until Dark', then head to bed.

I think it's true what they say - most of life is about showing up. First, though, you have to know where the meeting is...

posted by Maquinna @ 9:46 a.m.