Blade Mouth-Runner

My blogging idol, Julia Jackson McCready, wrote this past week of a community tussle regarding an overgrown patch of grass at a rather visible and prominent spot in Columbia.

It seems the patch of land’s ownership is in question, and none of the three parties involved seemed willing to cut the grass fast enough to satisfy the chief complainant, who made her gripes public on Facebook.

I watched the conversation go back and forth and then giggled as I sent Julia a private message telling her about the major differences between her town and mine (the little peninsular community of Edgemere).

I told Julia that in less time than it would have taken to read all of the back and forth about the Columbia grass tragedy, a crew of Edgemere residents would have organized, loaded some mowers into the beds of a few pickup trucks, reported to the overgrown spot and mowed the area in question. For good measure, the group would probably edge, trim and rake and bag the thigh-high grass so the end result was beautiful.

I told her about a recent example of someone complaining about the condition of a local playground. The individual was quick to complain that the Baltimore County Department of Recreation and Parks was neglecting the park and to voice concerns about the possibility of children being injured on the deteriorating equipment.

A civil conversation ensued in which other neighbors, more informed than the original complainant, told her the park in question was privately owned by a community association, the members of which are aging and unable to physically or financially keep up with park maintenance.

The online conversation ended with a group of people ready to inspect the equipment's condition, assess its needs and buy the materials necessary to fix and beautify the area. Plans were made and carried out, and soon, before and after pictures were posted online as well.

There is no way, I told Julia, that my community would waste much energy arguing or complaining about the height of the grass and whose responsibility it was to cut it. My neighbors would join forces, cut the grass and then go out for a beer afterward.

And then, as if on cue, this appeared on Facebook:

I just smiled and whispered softly to myself, “I rest my case.”