To the Editor:

On the whole, I like your advice, Mr. Seinberg (“Staying sane: The impossible dream?”, March 16, 2017). It’s a comfortable fit for me, having lived a largely apolitical life all these many years. To be sure, I’ve always voted. But most of the time I couldn’t identify my local representatives.

I worked in public service my entire career for the “good” programs, the ones unlikely to be very much affected by which party was in office because they are — were — unassailable. I spent too many hours working, I suppose, but I compensated by not being much of a citizen otherwise. No town halls, no lively debates at the diner over the zoning laws, no particular attention to laws not relevant to the job at hand. In effect, I gave at the office.

I have enjoyed myself though, appreciating my good fortune, living in Altamont, and having my basic needs met, as you say. It’s been a long, lovely nap — from citizenship. Then, in November, I was awakened by a bucket of cold water. Not a pleasant way to wake up, but effective to becoming instantly alert.

A first, I pulled the covers over my head. Other people would take care of me — as always. I would get by as best I could, recycling, donating to the Humane Society, watching my granddaughter grow. But, then I couldn’t.

You’ve seen the bad times come and go as I have, Mr. Seinberg, but these are not ordinary bad times. The programs I worked for all those years are on the budget chopping block now. The streams are burbling and the birds are singing, but what of these will be left for my granddaughter to enjoy when the environment is decimated?

I’m marching when I can now, along with other women who are new to this business of democracy. No one is quite sure what to do at the gatherings. It’s strangely quiet in the midst of such numbers. It feels more about being there than making noise.

My husband and I drove to a Unitarian meeting hall one Sunday afternoon for a discussion on social justice. I thanked the young woman leading the discussion for her leadership. She said she wasn’t a leader.

When she found herself in front of that mass of people back in January, her husband was afraid for her. The police presence seemed so small. Leadership is being thrust upon her; she isn’t anxious for it.

I attended my first-ever Albany County legislative meeting last week. I was prepared to speak about expanding the Styrofoam ban to other food services located in the county, beyond the chains already covered. There were too many speakers ahead of me — luckily, as I am not an expert; nor an especially good speaker.

I expected the meeting to be quite dull, but it wasn’t. I took the opportunity to introduce myself to as many legislators as I could. They were genial, as were the visitors. Genial and quiet, even after the ban was voted down.

I noted that all of the anti-ban speakers came from outside the county, mostly industry representatives, and were not the small local businesses I expected to hear from. The pro-ban people were from Albany; most were environmentalists.

Two outcomes for me from that meeting: I can now identify more of my representatives and it is more clear to me how seriously local policies can affect our quality of life. The next day I told my granddaughter she will have to notice what kind of cups she gets at food places. She said her mother already told her about that. At 6, she is learning about self-protective choices.

Altamont is a good place to live; I’m glad. But in our neighboring communities, kids are being sent home from daycare frightened because of the bomb threats, and, because of proposed budget cuts, our elderly may lose the home-delivered meals that help them remain in their homes.

It’s really not a good time to turn off the news. I’m late in coming to this role of participation, but the issues are urgent and consequential in a historic way. I send letters and sign petitions. This is how I stay sane.

Fran Porter

Altamont