Census Tests Good Citizenship

Everyone should take responsibility for being a good citizen. Part of living in a free society (ok, we can discuss the accuracy of that description later) is that everyone must do their part to keep things working. And for Americans, in many cases, we do it voluntarily. I love those signs along the highway, for example, that announce which civic and business organizations are keeping that stretch clean: The Kiwanis, First United Methodist Women, Al’s Plumbing and Heating, The American Nazi Party … Ok, maybe not all of the groups are nice ones, but they are doing an important service by picking up the trash along the road.

It concerns me that with Social Studies increasingly cut out of the curriculum, our children learn less and less about citizenship in school. Even the word itself seems old-fashioned. The most visible example of Americans “participating in our democracy” are those annoying “Tea Party” people who not only make demands purely in their own self interest, but don’t seem to understand even the basics of how our government works.

I take pride in my good citizenship. I recycle (most of the time). I vote in every election. I obey traffic laws (well maybe not always speed limits, but I have a very full schedule… ). My cats are spayed and neutered. And I drive a hybrid car which is a never ending source of self-righteousness.

Unlike many complainers in the United States, I have no problem with the census. It is, for one thing, constitutionally mandated. The data is helpful to government and businesses in countless ways. So if I can, I would like to help.

Except for one thing - I think I threw away my census form.

See, it’s because of junk mail. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even go to the mailbox unless I’m expecting a Netflix DVD. It’s a pain to stand over the trash can and carefully sort out the bills and rare personal correspondence from the newsprint, pizza coupons, and catalogs of companies I haven’t ordered from in years (this is a time when I should recycle …). It’s not hard to imagine a piece of business class post, mass mailed from some obscure federal office, getting lost among the junk. I must have tossed it without a thought.

This is surely a blot on my citizenship. I would be embarrassed to have a census worker come to my door. It’s not like I’m too ignorant to know it’s a census year. I’m not going to answer the door holding a shotgun, proclaiming that I don’t want to be counted because I don’t trust the “govermint.” I would probably apologize for making them come to my house because I was so careless with the mail.

Apparently I’m not the only one who, for whatever reason, almost didn’t participate. As I tried to enter King Soopers the other day without being accosted by the usual folks asking for something (you know, the Shriners, pollsters, girl scouts), a woman intercepted me and asked if I’d been counted.

Before I could snarl that all I wanted was some milk and cereal, and couldn’t I just enter the store one time without being harangued, I realized she was giving out census forms. I stopped in my tracks, took an envelope and thanked her.

The next day, my stats were on their way to the feds, my model citizenship restored for one more day.