Tuesday was town meeting day in Vermont. The first Tuesday of March is set aside for direct democracy. Citizens gather to conduct the town’s annual business, vote on school budgets and choose members for a selectboard which deals with mundane matters arising between now and the next town meeting. Issues decided at town meeting are as prosaic as zoning and whether this is the year to buy a new dump truck for the highway department, or as philosophical as whether our town should go on record as supporting nuclear disarmament. This year, many towns are voting on whether to urge the legislature to raise the state’s minimum wage.
Many places of business close for town meeting day; it’s a state holiday, like Bennington Battle Day in August. The Battle of Bennington was actually fought in New York state, but that’s another story. Town meetings start early and often become contentious. There are factions and voting blocs in every town and many Vermonters have admitted that if they can’t decide how to vote on an issue, they look at who’s for it and who’s against it, and let that guide their ballots. Town meetings are an exemplar of participatory democracy and free speech, but if you’ve lived in town for less than ten years, it’s best to keep your mouth shut.
Meetings take a long break for lunch – either potluck or catered by a church or Elks lodge – and regardless of how heated the morning’s debate may have been, it’s considered bad form to let rancor spill over into the time reserved for carrot salad and cheddar cheese.
Cities in Vermont don’t have town meeting per se, we just show up and vote, same as we do in November. With 40,000 citizens in the megalopolis of Burlington, it would be difficult to find a hall to fit us all and most of us wouldn’t get a chance to speak anyhow. Tuesday we elected a mayor, city councilors, school commissioners – although the school budget didn’t pass – and we endorsed the concept of a “livable wage.”
That’s the news, now the weather. Oh, my God. Monday and Tuesday, newscasters kept talking about the “storm that didn’t happen.” Ha, ha, ha. Well, it sure as hell happened here. It snowed for 30 hours and two feet accumulated before it was over. Twenty-six Vermont towns postponed their meetings until next week or next month. My big activity on town meeting day was shoveling the driveway, all the time wondering A)”Where can I throw this shovelful of snow so it won’t roll back off the six-foot snowbank?” and B)”When will I have my Dick Cheney chest pain experience?”
I finally put down my shovel and walked to the polling place. It was snowing and windy, but it was a holiday – a snow day and town meeting day. People were out with shovels, children built snow forts, neighbors pushed cars out of drifts. Leaning on shovels, people talked about the election. “Hey, I’m going to vote,” one man yelled to those still digging. “You want me to vote for you?” It was an obvious joke, but it got a laugh anyway.
There were more cross-country skis than cars at the polling station. I moved last December and this was my first time voting in my new ward. I recognized Robert, who tends the reference desk at Fletcher Free Library; he was wearing a bright orange snow suit. An election inspector told me I had icicles hanging from my beard. Unlike my old polling station, there were no baked goods on sale Tuesday, which was a bit of a disappointment. I enjoy an after-vote brownie.
They say people get the government they deserve. Ours is quirky, friendly and informal. In Afghanistan and New York City, political leaders blast away at art that offends their religious sensibilities, except in Afghanistan, they use real explosives and in New York, the mayor also pulls on fishnet stockings and dances with the Rockettes.
Town Meeting
Tuesday was town meeting day in Vermont. The first Tuesday of March is set aside for direct democracy. Citizens gather to conduct the town’s annual business, vote on school budgets and choose members for a selectboard which deals with mundane matters arising between now and the next town meeting. Issues decided at town meeting are as prosaic as zoning and whether this is the year to buy a new dump truck for the highway department, or as philosophical as whether our town should go on record as supporting nuclear disarmament. This year, many towns are voting on whether to urge the legislature to raise the state’s minimum wage.
Many places of business close for town meeting day; it’s a state holiday, like Bennington Battle Day in August. The Battle of Bennington was actually fought in New York state, but that’s another story. Town meetings start early and often become contentious. There are factions and voting blocs in every town and many Vermonters have admitted that if they can’t decide how to vote on an issue, they look at who’s for it and who’s against it, and let that guide their ballots. Town meetings are an exemplar of participatory democracy and free speech, but if you’ve lived in town for less than ten years, it’s best to keep your mouth shut.
Meetings take a long break for lunch – either potluck or catered by a church or Elks lodge – and regardless of how heated the morning’s debate may have been, it’s considered bad form to let rancor spill over into the time reserved for carrot salad and cheddar cheese.
Cities in Vermont don’t have town meeting per se, we just show up and vote, same as we do in November. With 40,000 citizens in the megalopolis of Burlington, it would be difficult to find a hall to fit us all and most of us wouldn’t get a chance to speak anyhow. Tuesday we elected a mayor, city councilors, school commissioners – although the school budget didn’t pass – and we endorsed the concept of a “livable wage.”
That’s the news, now the weather. Oh, my God. Monday and Tuesday, newscasters kept talking about the “storm that didn’t happen.” Ha, ha, ha. Well, it sure as hell happened here. It snowed for 30 hours and two feet accumulated before it was over. Twenty-six Vermont towns postponed their meetings until next week or next month. My big activity on town meeting day was shoveling the driveway, all the time wondering A)”Where can I throw this shovelful of snow so it won’t roll back off the six-foot snowbank?” and B)”When will I have my Dick Cheney chest pain experience?”
I finally put down my shovel and walked to the polling place. It was snowing and windy, but it was a holiday – a snow day and town meeting day. People were out with shovels, children built snow forts, neighbors pushed cars out of drifts. Leaning on shovels, people talked about the election. “Hey, I’m going to vote,” one man yelled to those still digging. “You want me to vote for you?” It was an obvious joke, but it got a laugh anyway.
There were more cross-country skis than cars at the polling station. I moved last December and this was my first time voting in my new ward. I recognized Robert, who tends the reference desk at Fletcher Free Library; he was wearing a bright orange snow suit. An election inspector told me I had icicles hanging from my beard. Unlike my old polling station, there were no baked goods on sale Tuesday, which was a bit of a disappointment. I enjoy an after-vote brownie.
They say people get the government they deserve. Ours is quirky, friendly and informal. In Afghanistan and New York City, political leaders blast away at art that offends their religious sensibilities, except in Afghanistan, they use real explosives and in New York, the mayor also pulls on fishnet stockings and dances with the Rockettes.
What did New York do to deserve that?