Nobody around here is denying that we are living in tough times, that things have been pretty difficult for a lot of people these last couple of years. I mean, just take a look at some of the effects of our budget cuts here in Rotunda, where the combination of decreasing tax revenue due to the affluent citizens moving out at a remarkable pace and the debt collectors knocking on the doors of the city council members on a nightly basis finally forced the city to adapt to some pretty serious changes in the role that the government plays in people's lives.
The city is no longer providing grants to the local community, arts, and recreational centers, and has ceased litter collection and garden maintenance in parks; the police no longer respond to armed robberies; the libraries have closed and the buildings have since been bought by a soft drink company and a sports mega-store; money for school upgrades, along with new textbooks, was canceled, so our 1997 books from the Texas Association for Educator Freedom Publishing Co., Inc., will continue to provide the finest in history and social studies education material. Naturally, the worst aspect, aesthetically, is that everything is falling apart. There is no money to repair anything, and everyone is hoarding their paychecks so that they can afford the massive amount of chocolate skim milk and science fiction novels that will help provide the smallest glimpse of escape from an otherwise treacherous life full of hardship. The roads and sidewalks are beginning to feel eerily reminiscent of photographs depicting towns decimated by the Great Depression. How can one possibly stay upbeat in an atmosphere of decay, chaos, and the manifestation of even greater amounts of greed and selfishness?
It goes without saying that all of these cost-cutting measures run contrary to the trusted economic conventional wisdom, which dictates that we should be investing in social services and stimulating the economy through generous spending more than ever. In this environment where everyone is looking out solely for their own interests, it is fascinating to see which markets are proving to be lucrative (other than obvious mainstays such as firearms, fast food, pharmaceuticals, illicit drugs, and other perpetual generators of wealth). Meanwhile, the city board is reduced to bake sales, car washes, and tearful solicitations outside places of worship. The feeling of derision that accompanies such fund raising is one that is unpleasant to revisit, and I cannot help but sink lower and lower into a state of depression with each subsequent Sunday morning.
Integral to any serious effort to maintain some semblance of mental stability in such dire conditions is to focus on life's simple pleasures (advice which is reiterated elsewhere in such noted studies as The Little Book of Calm, edited by John Wilkes Booth). A refreshing glass of lemonade in the afternoon sun can do more to repair one's emotional health than most things, and an aimless walk around the suburbs on a lazy weekend morning never hurt anyone. To be honest with you, I don't really have a choice: if I stay inside and blast the air conditioning all day long, I won't be able to afford food and I will have to resort to eating my own liver. We've got economic problems out the wazoo around here, so don't give me any condescending sob stories about your own troubles, mmkay?
