We got a notice a week or so ago from our homeowners association about a couple upcoming meetings. It seems that there’s some hubbub about people wanting to either incorporate our subdivision into Roswell, the nearby township, or annex it into a new one (thus far imaginatively dubbed “Newtown”). I sent fosteronfilm to the meetings to gather intelligence because I was eyeball deep in “Beauty’s Folly” at the time this came up. Now that I’m catching up on everything I backburnered last week, I’ve had some time to absorb the import of this furor.
It comes down to a political play of the local governments to keep the affluent north of Atlanta from benefiting the more needy south Atlanta areas with their tax dollars. As far as I can tell, that’s the sum of it. The parcel of land which includes a handful of neighborhoods (including our subdivision) is currently unincorporated. Thus, our taxes go to the big Fulton County money pool, which includes all of Atlanta. The overwhelmingly-Republican denizens of this area are aghast that their money is going to other neighborhoods to help improve the lot of those less affluent, so want to either incorporate or annex us. Apparently they’ve wanted to do this for a while, but have been unable to until the recent elections gave the conservatives the upper hand in the local legislature. Hence, they want to push this through before the government weights and balances tilt back to the Democrats, and so we can expect this to play out sometime next year. fosteronfilm and I shall have very little say in the matter, except perhaps to express whether we would prefer to be Roswellians or Newtownians.
For us, personally, it means little. Our address will remain the same (my first concern since I conduct so much business through the mail) regardless of the outcome. Our property taxes may or may not go up (but alas, certainly not down)–both the annex and incorporation sides are frothing to reassure us how superior their taxation situation will be over the other’s–and we may or may not get a sidewalk or two, or a softball field or something equally frivolous (softball’s all good and well, but I don’t play it, and therefore I don’t see why I should want to pay to have a new softball field installed when there’s perfectly serviceable ones within close driving distance) in the nearby park. Meanwhile, the tax money we don’t particularly need to maintain this prosperous north Atlanta bit of land and which those in south Atlanta could use to improve schools and other essentials, will be denied them.
All hail the greed and selfishness of Republican politics.
And my assertion that homeowners associations are the work of the Devil remains irrefutable.
Writing Stuff
After spending the weekend downstairs with skunk and husband, I’m back in the library. I did a pair of passes on the funny little story, now titled “The Devil and Mrs. Comstock’s Snickerdoodles” and after some debate, have decided not to send it through
Critters. I may, undoubtedly, come to regret this brash recklessness, but I can always offer it up for critique if it gets utterly panned by the first few editors I send it to.
But the thing is, I like this story; I’m happy with it, and it says what I want it to say. It’s meant to be light and quirky and I could so easily see it being ruined by subjecting it to too many rewrites. I think it’s ready to see the world. Going to give it another pass on paper because without the extra sets of critical eyes, I’m concerned about those typos that I always seem to miss. Then I’m sending it out.
I think the tone and tale might appeal to teenage sensibilities (although I also wonder if it would appeal to an even younger audience, given how sophisticated today’s children are), so I’m sending it to Cicada. So mote it be.
Next up: nose to grindstone on “Rue and Ruin.”
Club 100 For Writers
41
