If you can name it, you can govern it: The Mysteries of Blogsburg, pt. 3

We have a really "interesting" and totally puzzling system of local government in the Commonwealth--the township and borough system. Every person, every building, every everything in the state, whether incorporated or unincorporated, belongs to either a borough or a township, not to mention a county.

I doubt I'll be explain this particular mystery to any level of comprehension. It's much like when my friend Smidgen tries to explain the Canadian electoral system to me ("riding? like in horseback riding?")--and gosh knows our friends the Canadians have given that system a work-out over the last year or so. Suffice it to say, Wikipedia does it better.

As with most things, no matter how odd it seems, there are some plusses and minuses to the system.

On the good side--everyone, regardless of location, has a local government, and a generally responsive one to boot. I regularly get mail--newsletters and announcements and the like--from my borough council, and there is real encouragement to participate in borough government, whether it's serving on the town architectural board, attending a town hall meeting, volunteering to help out at the local museum or library, or enjoying year-round recreational opportunities in the region or farther afield (my borough's parks and rec department runs trips to New York for shopping and plays all the time--who knew?). I would be surprised if every township or borough had these resources, but in the Harrisburg area, I do see other townships advertising meetings, public events, recreational opportunities, et al.

Now for the down side(s) . . .

Because there is more local government, your chances of a) running afoul of a traffic cop and b) being taxed for the privilege of a local government that funds all those police cruisers are far more likely. I've managed to evade and avoid the former so far, despite the strategic placement of that sneaky Upper Allen Township patrol car just beyond the PA 114 northern and southern entrances to U.S. 15.

Another down side . . . I can rarely follow the local news reports on TV or in the paper as they often reference obscure township names. Sometimes these names are unique; for example, the township of Paxtang, somewhere in Dauphin County. Paxtang, you say? What is that--a peace sealed by a toast made with the astronauts' favorite powdered beverage? I can hear Dubya in 2026, now a former president and elder statesman: "Today, we can all be grateful for the Pax Tang 'cause it brought an end to the not-civil war in Iraq. I am happy to have been a part of the solution, not the problem, to this, uh, problem."

At other times, the township names are not so unique. For example, there must be a squillion Hanover townships statewide, as well as at least one Borough of Hanover in York County. Odin bless our forevaders und foremutters, Herman and Heidi the Germans, for finding a name they liked and sticking with it.

Still, it could be worse. We could have been settled primarily by the Welsh. Limit one vowel per customer, please.

Recently, while celebrating my ninth month of living in the Commonwealth and my twentieth month of working here, I realized I had finally arrived when someone at my work place mentioned to me that they had been in a restaurant "in my neighborhood." They told me the name, I recognized it and recalled its location, and thought to myself, "No, actually, that's in Hampden Township, not in my borough." Brrrrr. Imagine the chilling effect that has on your psyche, that you actually have almost solved the latest Hardy Boys-meets-the Planning-Commission's latest tome, The Case of the Puzzling Pennsylvania Local Governance Structure.

Paxtang is only the tip of the orange-flavored iceberg, though. Here, you can't escape the conundrum of odd nomenclature, for we live on the verge of Amish Country with its famed communities of Blue Ball, Bird-in-Hand, Virginville, and, of course, Intercourse. I must admit, before I moved to Pennsy, I would get ever so confused when I would occasionally see a bumpersticker on a car that read, "I LOVE INTERCOURSE PA." I couldn't help but wonder why anyone would announce this to the world (isn't it kind of a given for most of us?), and in particular, to their father . . . .

The town names themselves, well, there's no mystery there, other than a "what were they thinking?" head-scratching kind. I'm sure the original settlers had their reasons. Instead, I think we should all just count our lucky stars that the Pennsylvania Dutch didn't get more specific when naming our communities. Otherwise, we'd all now be living in Missionarypositionville or Coitusinterruptusburg.