By Rep. Marjorie Porter, D-Hillsborough
Let me tell you a story of Little Ville, a charming small town right here in New Hampshire, that boasted of having several lovely lakes and ponds within its bounds.
Years ago, the townspeople decided a spot on one of them would be the perfect place for a town beach, open and free for all its citizens to use. Everyone thought that was a great idea, except for old Mr. Garumph, who nobody listened to anyway, and were happy for a share of their taxes go to taking care of the place. They named it Smithton Park, after a town father, and got to work.
They put sand on the beach, put up a bead line and a small dock, built some picnic tables, and plumbed in some restrooms to keep the place sanitary. They hired a part-time recreation director and a few high school kids to be lifeguards and offered free swimming lessons in the mornings and arts and crafts in the afternoon June, July and August.
It was not a fancy place, but the water was nice and there’s was such a lovely view. When times were good, they freshened the paint and added a pavilion with more tables and sent busses around to pick up the kids for lessons. When times were tight, they put less new sand on the beach, cut back the director’s hours, and made do.
Many people used and enjoyed the place, especially the kids. All seemed fine, until…
The Joneses moved to town. When they brought their kids down for swimming lessons, they heard some of the teenagers goofing around, using language they didn’t like. And there was kissing!
The sand on the beach was kind of rocky, and it hurt the five-year old’s feet. They thought the lessons were too short and the teacher didn’t spend enough time teaching floating. And to top it all off, one of the toilets was clogged. Yuck.
The Joneses decided they could do a better job teaching their kids to swim, and decided they’d just put in a pool at home, where the grass was soft, proper language was used, the kissing was only on the cheek, and the toilet never clogged. Also, they could make sure the kids floated before every lesson.
Soon after, the Potters moved in. When summer came, they too tried the park. They looked around. They heard the frolicking teens. They saw the rocky sand. They asked when the waterskiing lessons started, and where the tennis court was. Their children, you see, already knew how to swim, were precocious artists, and needed more challenge than intermediate lessons and arts and crafts would give. And then, there was that toilet problem …
The Potters, who wanted more, decided the country club over in Middleton was what they were really looking for. Waterskiing, rock-climbing, and GOLF! Frolicking teens were not allowed to become members. Clean bathrooms! with bidets! Perfect!
Exactly what was needed to meet their kids’ needs. They joined.
Now lots of people had swimming pools at home, and some other people from town joined that country club, but Little Ville kept Smithton Park open, supporting it with everyone’s taxes, and providing swimming lessons and summer fun to everyone who lived there.
But a few years ago, some bigwigs in the private recreation business realized there may be a pot of gold just waiting to be tapped. Wouldn’t it be great, Big Rec said, if families had a choice of recreational offerings, paid for with their taxes? The public beaches didn’t meet everyone’s needs. We could do a better job. After all, businesses are much better than government at running things, aren’t they?
The Commissioner of Recreation, whose children all learned to swim at home, and some state legislators, who went to conferences sponsored by Big Rec and did not like government beaches one bit, began to stir up the pot. Community parks and recreation programs were nice, they said, but parents really should be able to decide what kind of lessons their children get. Parents know their kids best.
Families have a right to Recreational Choice!
Things began to heat up. Supporters of Recreational Choice started wearing yellow swimsuits and giving speeches. The governor got behind it and made it one of his priorities.
The Joneses and the Potters joined the movement. “We’re paying taxes for recreation we are not using!” they said. “We only want what’s fair!”
And before long, it came to pass, a law was passed that granted Recreational Freedom Accounts to any family who wanted or already had a swimming pool or a country club membership. Money to fill those accounts would come from property taxes via the parks and recreation budget. The money would follow the kids, wherever they went to swim.
The formula was simple: Total recreational dollars spent ÷ number of children served = RFA grant per child.
The Joneses and the Potters were first in line. In Little Ville, the budget amount was small, and so was the amount of the RFA grant—around $75/kid. The Joneses, with two kids, got $150 a year. Because the Potter’s grant of $225 was not quite enough, they decided to move to Middleton. The budget was bigger there, and so was the RFA grant. The new $600 a year payment really helped with their country club fees.
But that is not the end of the story. Some more Little Ville folks, who knew a good deal when they saw it, started home-pooling their kids and a few more joined country clubs, all collecting RFAs. The trickle of money from the recreation budget soon became a small stream, and before long…
The stream took its toll on the town’s recreation budget. At Smithton Park, they had to cut back on swimming lessons, from five days a week to three. Arts and crafts were cut to one afternoon a week. Concerned about safety, they kept all the lifeguards, but closed the beach on Mondays and Tuesdays. Beach maintenance and painting stopped. And they closed the restroom with the constantly clogging toilet altogether.
Smithton Park is still open, but it looks a little shabby now, and it’s not quite as much fun. People complain of stones on the beach, slivers from the picnic tables, and not enough toilets to meet the need.
It’s still open to all though, and on a hot summer day, you might even see the Joneses, and their visiting friends the Potters, there, taking a dip. The water IS nice, and the view is lovely.
And why not? It’s there for everyone.