Should I be fighting any new battles at this age?

The powers-that-be in county government want to close our pools. All of them.

So what, you may say. That’s life, right? No one has any money to run the civic necessities, let alone your pools. Would you rather see budget cuts elsewhere? How about you lose police protection, fight your own fires, supply your own clean running water or haul your own trash?

No, no, no and no. But that does not mean I won’t take on yet another job: crabby civic activist. Heck, my mother thinks I’m one anyway. Every time she sees hears me spout about the unfairness or idiocy of something, she has this mental picture of her eldest child hauling out the old soapbox and climbing aboard.

Thing is, I was not much of a protester back in the good old 1970s, when I was young and should have been idealistic. I was too busy being a grade geek, so I could go to college, make the family proud and move out and on with life. College was a blur of work and books and a little dating (there was insufficient money for four years, so I had a very rushed and compacted three years to get my degree). My early work years were not much better: trying to find myself plus remaining financially solvent equalled not much time for social activism.

Now that I’m older, I should be mellower, more easygoing. Nope, never happened. If anything, I get more mad about injustice and unfairness, but I am also more willing to act on it. The good news: I have my skills in speaking and writing, and I can cook. I’ve put the writing skills to work by contacting the county commissioners, in snail mail and email, about the pools and why we need to save them. The cooking? That may come into play later, when we need to raise money for the pools’ operating costs.

Is this fair, to be contributing to something my taxes already pay for? Is it fair to sit by and allow part of  a community’s cultural and leisure lifestyle to get the budget ax? I have two jobs, a website and this blog, along with a house to deal and my usual volunteer gig with the local AIDS group; do I need another project?

Mom just called. She knew I was on the soapbox and told me to get down and go to bed.

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