BY STEPHANIE NAKHLEH
Los Alamos
Writing a letter to the editor takes time, and that’s time you could spend not attending public hearings. To help, I’ve written one for you. Circle the options that apply, fill in the blanks, sign, and send.
Dear Editor,
It has come to my attention that [the County / a developer / a shadowy cabal of planners] intends to build [a duplex / a bench / 14 townhouses / a bike park] on [the field of ragweed I’ve walked my dog past since 1981 / a privately owned empty lot that I feel like I own even though I definitely don’t / a parking lot I once parked in].
This is the first I have heard of it. Yes, it was [published as a legal notice in this newspaper / announced on a four-foot sign on the property / discussed at three public hearings / adopted into the comprehensive plan after six years of meetings, two with cookies]. But nobody [knocked on my door / called my landline / sent me a personal letter / asked my cat].
Who decided this? I’ll tell you who: [the County Council / the planning commission / staff / consultants with spiral-bound reports], who were [elected by us / appointed by the people we elected / hired to do exactly this], meeting behind closed doors that were [open / livestreamed / archived online]. How many people were really involved? Only [a few dozen / the hundred-plus at the listening session / everyone who filled out the survey / an exuberant crowd of parents and children / anyone who bothered to show up], which is not everyone, and is therefore not enough. Everyone who stayed home agrees with me, which I know because they stayed home.
The decision was not made by the people who live here. I live here. I am The People. I did not approve this, so The People did not approve this. Yes, we elect people to make these decisions. But every decision that [costs more than $10 / changes a view / moves a chamisa plant] should go to a referendum of [the whole county / my cul-de-sac / me]. The People use this land at every waking moment. That’s a lot of people, and every one of them is me.
I’m pretty sure we were promised this would never happen. I can’t recall who promised it, when, or in what document, but I remember the feeling of being promised, and that feeling is legally binding. The promise was that this land would stay [open space / natural / pristine / untouched by human hands / exactly as it looked the afternoon I first saw it]. Promises like that have no expiration date, and they grow a little every time I retell them.
Besides, this amenity will just sit empty. Nobody used [the last one / the one in White Rock / anything built since I moved here]. At the same time that nobody is using it, everyone will use it, making traffic on [San Ildefonso / Diamond / Trinity / whatever road I’m on] worse, and that road is already jammed up by the other people, none of whom are me.
It will also bring [noise / lights / blowing dust / children], which will drive off [the wildlife / the walkers / my peace of mind]. There were always better locations, such as [the other mesa / the old one nobody used / anywhere I don’t walk my dog / outer space]. Frankly, it is too much to ask this town to keep supplying valuable space to [bike parks / community rec centers / housing], which, as everyone knows, we do [every few decades / once in the mid 80s / approximately never].
If this is housing, know that I support housing purely in theory, but just not [here / on my side of the canyon / anywhere I’d have to see it with my eyes]. I certainly don’t support housing that might result in anyone making money back on their investment, unless that person is me, whose own home has doubled in value in the past decade. Will I be selling my home below market to a needy family? Absolutely not; my own enormous housing profit is justified and necessary for reasons I can’t articulate right now. I vaguely remember someone once saying this particular housing would be 100% affordable to [a teacher / a grad student / a part-time barista], and clearly it is not. Somebody lied, and somebody is probably on the take. I have no evidence of this, which is itself suspicious.
The land should stay exactly as it was when I arrived, which is the natural state of all land. Everything that came after me is [an eyesore / about greed / harming lizards], but my own home [was never built by anyone / has always existed].
I will be at the next meeting. Please let me know when it is.
Sincerely,
[Name]
[Neighborhood]
[Exact number of years, months, and days as a resident]
The People
(Editor’s note: In case you haven’t figured it out, this is pure satire!)