There is something uniquely American about the way a town governs itself. A local budget is numbers on a page; and it is a statement of priorities, a reflection of community values. It is an agreement—between those who lead and those who are led, between those who serve and those who benefit from that service. It is the practical work of democracy, and it happens here, in town halls and public meetings, among neighbors.
The budget process in Greenwich is thorough, detailed, and shaped by people who understand that good governance requires time, effort, and discipline. Some who labor over it are volunteers, giving their nights to long meetings, their weekends to spreadsheets, their inboxes to questions and concerns. Others—our Board of Selectmen, our department heads, our Superintendent of Schools—do this work as their profession. They work hard to balance want with restraint, to ensure the town’s present stability and its future success.
Whether volunteer or professional, what unites them is an understanding that this work matters. It is not about the next fiscal year but the one after that, and the one after that.
The budget process is designed to be deliberative, to take months, to allow for input and analysis. It moves from the Board of Selectmen to the Board of Estimate and Taxation to the Representative Town Meeting, each layer adding scrutiny, each step ensuring that the final product is as responsible as it can be.
Yet, a curious thing happens. The process is open—the meetings are posted, the documents are available, the hearings are scheduled. But often, public engagement comes too late.
A decision is made, a number is finalized, and only then does the outcry begin. People say they were blindsided, that they didn’t know, that they weren’t consulted. But they were. The meetings were held, the emails went out, the opportunities existed.
It is not enough to pay attention once the decision is made. A town governs itself best when its people engage early, when they speak up while there is still time to shape an outcome. A concern raised in February can be addressed thoughtfully. A complaint made when the final vote is days away, can only become an argument, a grievance, a missed opportunity.
John Adams wrote that “liberty cannot be preserved without a general knowledge among the people.” A government of the people requires something of the people: their attention.
Local government is the purest form of democracy. It is government at its most accountable, most accessible, and most responsive. The people making decisions are not distant figures—they are neighbors, fellow parents at school pickup, the person in front of you at the grocery store, the familiar face at your place of worship. They sit next to you at coffee shops, attend the same community events, and live with the outcomes of their decisions just as you do.
There is a beauty in running into your local representative at Whole Foods, or stopping them for a moment after church, synagogue, or a Little League game. These casual conversations, unfiltered by official proceedings, shape policy in a way no formal meeting can. A quick exchange in the parking lot, a passing comment at the library, a shared concern over breakfast—these moments are democracy at its best. They are priceless.
Greenwich is full of smart, capable, engaged residents, generous with their time, their expertise, and their energy. They coach teams, serve on nonprofit boards, and show up for each other. This is the strength of the town—it is personal. And yet, when it comes to the budget, too many wait until after the fact to ask questions, to voice concerns, to care.
The men and women shaping the budget—whether elected, appointed, or hired—are making decisions that affect your taxes, your schools, your roads, and your safety. They are deciding what is funded and what is not. They are choosing, on your behalf, what Greenwich will prioritize in the coming year. And they are doing it in the open.
If you have thoughts, now is the time.
