Friday, October 26, 2007

Boro, Township, Village...Where Do I Live?

When we looked at homes last spring our agent tried to explain the whole concept of boro/village/township. My over-stimulated brain remembers something about "the tax base" and "municipality" and then I remember a lot of "yada yada yada, blah, blah, blah." I should have paid more attention.

Township--a small fiefdom within a county. Citizens are given certain powers, like maintaining their roads and overseeing land use issues.

Boro--an ancient word referring to either an administrative division of a city (such as New York's five boroughs), or a self-governing incorporated town.

Village--a really cute town. Sorry, just being a smart aleck. But really, what's the difference between a village and a boro? Is a village sometimes unincorporated? Is it a question of size?

We live practically on top of the line between Hunterdon and Mercer counties. I get counties and now know that officially we're in Mercer County. And I know that we are ALSO in Hopewell Township. But our street address is in Lambertville, which is not only NOT in Hopewell Township, it's in another county! This leads to interesting problems, such as registering to vote and programming directions on our GPS. When I tried to register to vote at the nearest DMV (which is in Flemington), my application was rejected because it was from the wrong county.

The biggest insult--at the Lambertville Free Library, we were asked to pay $30 for a library card. "But I have a Lambertville address," I objected.

"Yes, but you do not live in the VILLAGE of Lambertville," the lady replied.

You can't catch a municipal break around here.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

My Civic Duty

I have 14 days until the next election and not only did I nearly forget to register, I am unclear--that is, I have no clue--who is running and who's in office. My friend Kathleen back in Sacramento is gritting her teeth if she is reading this. She is always on top of the political scene, from U.S. Senate to City Council, and I've always admired her for that. So what better time to get my gubernatorial and other-natorial act together than now? I can claim the ignorance of a newcomer for only so long.

Spent 1/2 an hour last week getting my printer to work right, then downloaded and printed two copies of the New Jersey Voter Registration Form on Mercer County's Office of the Attorney General site. We'll see if they let us vote. Of course it would be nice to know what we're voting for. But that's up to me.

Did you know there's a way for NJ candidates to run clean campaigns? A pilot program called The New Jersey Fair and Clean Elections Project? offers financial aid to candidates in Districts 14, 24 and 37 if the candidate can get 400 to 800 donations from supporters in the district...in $10 increments. He or she must refuse big donations. Then the campaign is eligible for public funding. I guess the idea is that lots of small donations is cleaner and fairer than one or two big ones. This is Soprano country after all. I'll keep an eye on this but first I need to figure out which district I live in.

More on this later, as I ponder the next question: Boro, Township, Village--Where Do I Live?

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Getting Lost...in a Maze

Lots of people west of.....Pennsylvania, let's say, don't have a clue about New Jersey's vast countryside and farmlands. It's really a gorgeous place once you get past Meadowlands (sounds pastoral, but ugh) and Newark. Heck, even Elizabeth has some really neat old buildings in its downtown; I can see them from the train. I'm going to stop there sometime and check it out for myself.
The point is, don't judge a book by its cover, or in this case, don't judge New Jersey by the view from the Turnpike. Here in the Delaware Valley the countryside is drop-dead gorgeous especially as the leaves start to fall.
As Halloween approaches we are treating ourselves and our children to some fun fall events...like the Howell Living History Farm's amazing Corn Maze.
This is not your average pumpkin patch kiddy activity. These guys are serious--4 acres of an intricate horseshoe mirror pattern that the guides promise we'll get out of in oh, about an hour and a half if we're good. Tim and I looked at each other, gazed up at the hot October sky, quickly assessed how long we'd survive without sunblock and bottled water, then plunked down $30 for the privilege of getting lost.
Amidst the rows of tall, dry corn are 8 mailboxes. Each mailbox holds a piece of the map. Once you find all 8 pieces of the map you can find your way out. We quickly got into the spirit of things and pressed on, each of us sure that our way was the right way.
We stared at tall, rustling corn stalks for a very long time. Mazes do mess with your mind--you feel sure you've discovered a different path, then you see that the mailbox was one you had already opened 3 rounds back. Four acres is a lot of corn.
In about 1/2 hour, the kids got pretty hot and thirsty. We began to notice that there were tiny crawlthroughs on some of the paths, the unsanctioned shortcuts to key trails and mailbox cul-de-sacs. Nope, that would be cheating. Can't do it. At least not when the other participants were looking.
Other tired parents were starting to break. The entire moral code of the group, like a page out of Lord of the Flies, began to fray and soon we were able to rationalize our cheating as tactical scouting. By mailbox #8 we were all in collusion to finish our maps and walk triumphantly over the bridge. Free at last!
We walked back to the little gift shop that had taken our money in the beginning. "How did you like it?" said the lady in charge. We said very much, only next year we'll come prepared with provisions.
My daughter Caroline picked up a postcard showing an aerial view of the maze and said, "Hey mom, why didn't we just buy this map before we started?"
She's so smart.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

All the leaves are falling!

Just as we let go of one preoccupation--that would be summer humidity--another one obligingly steps in to take its place. I always wondered what the point was of raking leaves. Why not just leave them lying around? Now I know. The first layer looks a little picturesque (at least to this unjaded resident), the second layer makes you look a little harder for that nice green lawn. By the third and fourth layers you're avoiding the neighbors and their immaculate yards, wondering if you should just put out four wood block. set a broken-down tractor on top and admit you're a leaf-slacker.

We had lots of falling leaves in California--oak, maple, birch--but nothing like the prodigious shedding of a sycamore (or more precisely, a London Plane). Even the bark sheds. Our nice neighbor Hank has been tantalizing us with the offer to borrow the leaf vacuum attachment on his tractor. Not as romantic as old wooden-handled rakes and laughing children dressed in corduroy jumping on piles of leaves...does that ever happen around here? I think I read too many L.L. Bean catalogs.