Eve of Destruction: Step Outside, maybe you’ll meet a candidate (3/2000)

After reading yesterday’s newspaper from first page to last I went back and re-read the answers the residents gave on the street (Page three, March 20,2000) as to who they were going to vote for in the city council elections.  I was somewhat surprised that hardly any had made any concrete decisions.  In fact, most seemed unsure.

I had to wonder if they were Signal readers.

Before I started reading The Signal I’d have to admit to being somewhat clueless about local politics myself.  Being a Signal subscriber changed all that.

When The Signal starting running my columns, albeit apolitical ditties about my life, I had the opportunity to meet some of our current council members as well as some of the running members.  I now know each of our current council members by sight, and, thanks to The Signal, their political views.

I have now formed educated opinions on our local politics.  It’s my job/duty to inform my husband, my employer, my best friend and my neighbors on what I just read in our newspaper.  I like to market good businesses; so, you may call me The Missionary of The Signal.  Or as The Signal calls me on their website, “community columnist”.  I love that.

I know who Marlee Lauffer is (Myrna, you were supposed to go with us to lunch!).  I know what infrastructure means.  I know what high opinions Cameron Smythe has about his hometown.  I know what parks and recreations department has to offer.  I’m even considering getting dusty and taking the bus to The Cowboy Poetry festival.  And not because I’m into cowboy or poetry, yet.  I just like my neighborhood and all it has to offer.

I know if it’s a good time to put my house back on the market. I know if my last column bombed in the printed tell its.
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  I can keep up with Vasquez, Mayo, Hart and Mulholland through John Boston’s time warp travels.  I can see they bevy of debs my daughter will have to compete with someday.  I can ignore Dr. Laura and re-read Pauline Harte to learn a better way of parenting, dog neutering or avoiding mixed cement trucks barreling down the 14 freeway.

I know what to dress Samantha in each morning so she’s not too cold or hot.  I know if I should leave my own particular domain if all Aries’ born are destined for debilitating bad vibes.  And, if I want to I can read a comic strip like I did with my mom every Sunday morning when I was a wee one.

I know which businesses just opened or who’s running a special.  (Can’t wait to take advantage of the close Jan Heidt metrolink station so Sam and I can visit the hubby at his spot downtown.)  I know what Samantha’s future elementary school did in past test scores.  (I don’t know if by then they’ll have sorted out whether or not I pay an arm and a leg for school uniforms or Barbie decorated bell-bottoms.)

I don’t know what might have happened in my own development if I hadn’t started reading our daily newspaper.  I might still be driving over the hill for meals, movies and shopping.  Or, even worse, not voting.