An ode to the citizens of Pawnee

"Except for Turnip! Except for Turnip!"

I’ve been rewatching Parks and Recreation as of late. It’s one of my favorites, a show that automatically puts me in a good mood no matter what the season brings. I could probably write a dissertation on how Mike Schur offers brilliant insights on friendship, politics, and local legacy, but if tells you anything about my personal fandom, I interned at a Parks and Rec department one summer. For the city of Shawnee, if you can believe that.

Anyway, I’ve recently become re-enchanted with the show: the plot lines, the laughs, and the ridiculous range of characters. But none capture my attention quite like the citizens of Pawnee.

If you’re familiar with Parks and Rec, you know these citizens offer a brand of crazy that’s hard to look away from. They’re characterized by absurd questions, cooky complaints, and many many (un)carefully crafted opinions.

“I found a sandwich in one of your parks, and I wanna know why it didn’t have mayonnaise.”

“If sugar’s so bad, why did Jesus make it taste so good?”

“Why should the Bill of Rights be in the official time capsule, but this painting of my dog is in time capsule seven?”

If you’re ever worked with The Public, you know these shows are less of a comedy and more of a documentary. They often make you wonder “Huh, how did you keep yourself alive this long?” or “Wow, that was the thought you decided to say out loud?” They bring a level of insanity to shared spaces that keep drawing me back in to public parks and libraries, and in many ways, they’re the crown jewel of a town like Pawnee.

I’ve worked enough jobs at the intersection between organization and individual to know these comedic reliefs are not far off from reality. From work in the government to non-profits, HR to the Happiest Place on Earth, the following questions have been asked to me (or someone I know) in my real life:

“Where can I get a pool pass?” Probably at the pool.

“Why is this apple brown?” Probably because you told me to cut it an hour ago and you haven’t eaten it yet.

“I don’t recall the name of this class, but can you tell me how much it is?” No, ma’am. I cannot.

“What time is the 3 o’clock parade?” You’re never gonna believe this, but your question is already answered.

These interactions are not far from any line you’ll see in a sitcom, but you know what? I have to hand it to them. I tend to bring a certain "Don’t Make a Scene” attitude to any space I inhabit, but I could stand to learn a thing or two from these citizens. They’re crazy, but they care. I’ve got to respect the hustle.

On a somewhat related note, I recently made a list of (for my own entertainment) called “Unhinged TV Characters I Admire” consisting of fictional people like Lucille Bluth of Arrested Development or real(ish) people like Vivi-Anne from Dance Moms who are typically embodied by their unhinged, unbothered, and ultimately aspirational behavior.

As a rather hinged, reserved, and bothered person myself, I have a thing or two to learn from these people. I wish I had it in me to rant about a “disturbing lack of benches in Ramset Park” or my express my distaste in the “terrible” pottery I made in someone else’s art class. I wish I could make a city forum all about my themed park idea, or find someone to listen to me monologue about why the Hunger Games or Twilight should go into the town’s time capsule.

Now trust me, I believe there’s a time and place for most things. You should treat your governing officials with respect. You should (generally) filter out some things flying out of your mouth. But the thru-line in all these crazy characters I admire is the unashamed, unwavering ability to say the crazy, insane thing out loud. And like I said, I respect it.

Maybe unhinged, unrepressed characters have a thing or two to teach me about advocacy. Sure, we could curb the tact and texture of these questions, but I want their ability to speak up. Give me that charisma and chutzpah to care about things no living person has ever cared about before.

Sure, citizens like these cause town meetings will run longer. And service workers have to field a few more questions. But there’s a beautiful beauty to uncensored lament that these citizens actually “get.” They hold an unbothered ability to let the world wield to you with a refreshing recitation of fears and feelings, big and small.

You know, maybe I could stand to ask more stupid questions. Maybe I could call out a few more of my complaints. Maybe I could practice voicing problems I see in life, without the fear of relationship or retaliation at stake.

I’m not saying they’re doing all of it right. In fact, if I had to give it a percentage, they’re getting a failing grade.

But nonetheless, I love you, citizens of Pawnee. May your advocacy and agency leave a lasting mark on Pawnee, Shawnee, and all our citizens beyond.