On dailyness in a time lacking precedent

 

Boston Fire Department post-fire

I was working in the office in Boston the last week of May when a noticeable number of fire engines came screaming by. A look at social media revealed that a building two blocks over was actively on fire. It was the kind of fire that has people from all directions taking photos--lots of smoke in a heavily built-up area--and so it got plenty of attention. 
It wasn't, though, until I went to get lunch, and being just as nosy as you are, walked up the blocks to see what was now extinguished, taking the above photo, that I realized that I had at no point worried about where I was or my own safety. Despite being in an old port city, now build out of bricks for a reason, we have people for this: people who show up every day, having been extensively trained and equipped, exactly so I don't have to think about what I'm to do when a building two blocks over is on fire. 

I have been thinking a lot lately about this sort of showing up we take for granted, even as so much nationally is falling apart. So much of what have been so often sneeringly dismissed as federal bureaucrats are people--surprise!--on whose work we rely. This point was so effectively made by those suing to keep the federal Department of Education that they got an injunction, but of course it is just as true in every federal department, from the IRS (yes, indeed) to National Parks to USAID and on and on.

But as above, so below: the functioning of so many things at the state level and at the local level depends on the daily work of people whose names and titles never make articles, whose functions never get discussed unless and until some clueless git eliminates them. 

Do you think about what's in your water when you turn on the tap? 

Or what happens after you take out the trash to the curb? 

Or if the bridge you drive over on your way to work is going to fall down?

Aren't you glad that somebody does?

This came up in a conversation I was having this weekend about local government and the response to national issues. Maybe it's because I tend to think of local politics first in terms of schools, and schools have always been "if it's out there, it's in here," but I don't think it is too much to expect of local government to do both: I think we can say to local leaders, "We expect to you actively respond within your purview to national issues--aka, actually do something--and be outspoken on what isn't under your purview that impacts your constituency" while at the same time expecting that they're going to pass budgets, and pick up trash, keep the roads plowed, and keep buildings from burning down around us. I expect that schools are going to consider national immigration stresses, and have the buses come on time, feed the kids lunch, and ensure they learn in a space that welcomes them. Those two things aren't in conflict; they're flip sides of the same coin, because those for whom we are ensuring have clean water and an education are also those impacted by the federal nonsense. 

Both of those things matter. Both of those are things we do for each other through government. We can and should have expectations for both. And perhaps it matters even more now that the federal government is falling to pieces around us, and when the risks being run by those who are in positions of state and local office are under threat.

This also means that those who are doing the work of what I think of as civilization--the daily work of getting kids to school, and teaching kids to read, and feeding them, and those who are picking up trash, and keeping our water clean, and ensuring our buildings don't burn down--not only have crucial work; they have work that also allows us to show up for the big national stuff, too. 

Dailyness, even non-loud, non-visible-unless-you're-closely-looking, matters.