Everything is Alive

I went to a town hall meeting with state legislators Ellen Anderson, Alice Hausman (a big heroine of mine!), and John Lesch to hear more talk about the budget crisis and throw in my two cents because I seem to have officially become the library harpy who pops up at every opportunity and shrieks about the library.

I heard stories from so many heartbroken people dealing with problems that seem much more pressing than my desire to keep being able to walk to my neighborhood library.  I heard people who work with the severely disabled and people who volunteer with families who've lost loved ones to murder and people who work to try to prevent child abuse and spousal abuse.  I heard a woman weeping about how changes in "deadbeat dad" laws are basically ruining her and her children's lives.  I heard a man advocate that we should legalize marijuana so the state can legally tax growers and sellers of cannabis, thereby solving the budget problem.  I heard a man who was angry at all the people in the room advocating for higher taxes on the rich because he was afraid it would drive away businesses and jeopardize his daughter's future.  I heard about Iron Range residents who worry about the environmental impact of new mining up there but are afraid to speak up about it because people need the mining jobs so badly.  I heard a lesbian woman speak of living as a second-class citizen.  I heard about the evil and irresponsible ways our governor has played accounting tricks with state funds to hide the fact that he's been steadily selling out our future just so he can make the claim he's never raised our taxes.

Everything seems so fragile right now, so fraught with peril.  I still want the library to stay open, and I'm still going to fight for it, because I think there are a lot of people who need the library and because for me it will truly feel as if the heart's been torn out of the neighborhood if it closes.  I am just trying hard to remember something I heard Alice Hausman say years ago when I was with a small group of parents speaking up for early childhood education funding.  "You have to try very hard not to pit one small interest against each other," she said, "to say that my cause is more important than your cause.  What we have to try to do is figure out a way to lift everyone up, together." 

I am also trying very hard to remember to spend time with the kids.  I played Monopoly with my son this evening and really enjoyed that, read to my daughter, made homemade pizzas with them, scratched both their warm, soft backs before they fell asleep.  I have been neglecting them so much.  But when I look at that list, I don't feel quite so bad.

"You know why I move things around so much, Mom?" my son asked me the other day.  "Like, if I pass a big chunk of ice, I can't just let it sit, I have to pick it up and throw it?"

"Yes," I said.  "Why?"

"Because I think everything is alive, and I want to help it move around," he said.

Of course.  Everything is alive, and it wants to move around.  And we are all just getting moved around, tossed this way and that, landing new places, crashing into each other, figuring it out as we go.