The Center Cannot Hold

By Sarah

Well, it's over. Just a little over 235 years of democracy, a grand experiment placing power truly in the hands of the people, and we're through. Pack your bags. Turn off the lights. Start padding your caves. Pretty soon, it's gonna be each tribe out for itself.

What gets me is that it wasn't the more earth shaking principles that brought us down - slavery, emancipation, civil rights, trust busting and unions or, heck, suffrage. It was 24 hour news. 

Also, and this can't be stated firmly enough, incivility. 

In my little Vermont town, we get together the first Tuesday of every March to pass a budget. It's called Town Meeting and it's a New England tradition and while it might sound cute and folksy, it's really not, especially these days. Sure, there are the church ladies with their bean supper and homemade apple crisp. But there's also business to be done.

The town report comes in the mail a few weeks ahead of time. It includes the proposed budget along with reports by entities such as the road crew (to explain why they needed more salt than usual), births, deaths, the number of dogs licensed and who didn't pay their property taxes. (Everyone's favorite section.) We take it to Town Meeting and slowly work our way through the agenda following Roberts Rules of Order and the guidance of a town moderator who is half auctioneer/half comedian. 

We are Republicans, Democrats, Independents, Progressives, Socialists, Libertarians and nothing. A lot of us are old - they have the most to lose with each penny increase in taxes. Many are teachers. Too many stay home.

But lined up on folding chairs in the elementary school gym under basketball nets and first-grade murals of early Vermont life, we are all Middlesex residents who want the best for our kids and elderly. We're also broke. I don't know anyone, frankly, who's thriving in this piss poor economy. No one in my town is building a huge house or driving a big fancy car. Success is paying your fuel bill.

Each year gets tougher. Last year, out of mercy, the town split the tax bill in two so you could pay half in September, half in February. This alone merited over an hour of discussion.

Conservative old-time Vermonter Leroy Brett gets up and nitpicks the $55 increase in gas for the road crew. The question of whether or not to send $5,000 as a town to the Montpelier library is always heated. (We're all pissed at Berlin for chipping in nothing.)

Everyone's privately adding up the numbers and as the articles pass and an upgrade is approved here or there, people start shifting in their seats. 

But we keep it civil.

Just the concept of Town Meeting is a hard pill for many here to swallow. The meeting starts at 4 p.m. and while schools and state workers have the day off, most people don't. So that raises the class issue of whether this is some precious tradition that's being maintained by "flatlanders" - those from away who moved here to soak up atmosphere and, by the way, the best property.

Ouch.

The closest we got to nastiness was a "Take Back Vermont" movement, the implication being that flatlanders were swooping in with their Volvo stationwagons and trust funds and imposing on our state progressive ideas that the working family couldn't handle. Like health care. You cannot be denied health insurance in Vermont even with a preexisting condition. And a family of four earning $67,000 or less qualifies for discounted health care through Dr. Dynasaur. (Thank you, Gov. Dean.)

Despite the grumblings, so far, this state has kept it together. Being a population of only 600,000 helps. Those second home owners and their outrageous property tax revenue helps, too. 

But there's another reason. When that Town Meeting ends, we have to push back our chairs, stand up and face each other. We know that we'll meet again in the grocery story or on the high school fields where our kids play sports. (No fancy private school here.) We might have to give one of our cars a push out of the snow. Or ask for help when we slide off the road. (Cell reception's spotty.)

We can't afford to lash out with the vitriol that spews from our TV sets or radios. We can't hide behind anonymous monikers on web sites.

We need each other and because of that recognize and honor our neighbor's value. Leroy Brett and I don't see eye to eye on much. But I love that he keeps the Baptist church at the bottom of our road neat and tidy. I love his farm. He's a good hardworking man and, boy, you gotta respect that.

So the question is, if we bumbling, flawed average citizens in a tiny Vermont town can pass a budget every year, stick within our means, politely argue and, in the end, always compromise, why the hell can't the U.S. Congress?

Signed,

Disgusted in VT