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  • Writer's picturejstanion1890

One-hundred and ninety-four days

I last posted in 2023 right before I made a commitment to get involved in local politics. My world has certainly changed in the last 194 days. Actually, it was already changing. That's why I got involved in politics.

So many people have moved here. Our population has grown by some 10,000 people in just the last year and "sources" say it will grow another 50% in the near future. From 80,000 to 120,000. I have no idea where we'll put them all. I hear you city folks asking, "Now what's she complaining about?"

The picture below was taken on the morning of my last post...a crisp December day looking out my back door towards the horse pasture. I'd done my last book marketing event and knew that I wouldn't have time to do any more in the coming months. So many people had asked me to get "make a difference".

The second picture is what I see now when I go to town...not the sleepy little place where I could pick up lightbulbs, some plumbing parts, and a couple of hotdogs for lunch. Just yesterday, there was a traffic jam where that little store used to be, and the store is now a "Quick-Stop" with plenty of food for folks to eat-as-they-drive and an automated fuel tank that is always out of paper and tells me "Clerk Has Receipt."

I lost the election. That's no concern, really. I actually felt some meetings, no friendly requests for "favors". I thought I could change things by getting involved in how our county will be developed. The newspaper has called us "The Wild, Wild West" of development. No holds rules...a veritable free-for-all, houses so close together that a neighbor can borrow a cup of sugar without walking next door. Just reach through the window to share.

Investment companies send letters every day trying to buy the land. Every day, I toss them in the garbage.

But, I'm worried about the transformation of our beautiful community from rural to urban, from open and relaxed to crowded and hectic. I'm worried too many farmers will be taxed off their farms. I'm worried one of the grandboys will be hit by a car as they're following their dad with his "Gator" while he moves equipment from field to field. The speed limit is 35m.p.h down this road and there's a big yellow sign that warns folks it's a farming area. Drivers pay it no mind when they hit the quarter mile straightaway between our house and the STOP sign. It sounds like Talladega Speedway as they rush to slam on their brakes at the end of the road.

Life goes on. For now, I'll head to the barn and feed the horses and hope for a quiet Friday evening.

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