Legislature rules our lives in ways that may surprise
Aaron J. Latham, The Arizona Daily Star
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``There's too much
government,'' says Robert Nogales, right, riding with son Benjamin
on an errand.
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By Rhonda Bodfield Sander
The Arizona Daily Star
Rosemary Nogales, a 44-year-old teaching assistant, doesn't
spend time mulling what her taxes pay for, although she has a
general feeling they're high.
Like most people, she thinks about government only when the
need for protection hits close to home - when her kids leave for
school, or when a drive-by shot rang out behind her house a few
years ago.
Unless lawmakers do something really outrageous, she'll ignore
the legislative session that begins tomorrow in Phoenix.
But with its $6 billion annual budget and 35,000 employees, state
government plays a round-the-clock role in her family's life.
It's just before 6 a.m. on a weekday in the Nogales family's
red brick home with wrought-iron accents. They live in the working-class
Elvira Neighborhood, sandwiched between the carniceria
meat shops and zapateria shoe stores along South 12th Avenue
and a mobile home park on Los Reales Road.
The gas heater that cuts the chill in the 1,200-square-foot
home is powered by Southwest Gas, a public utility whose rates
and performance are monitored by the Arizona Corporation Commission's
utilities division. Last year, lawmakers appropriated $18.9 million
to the agency, which also makes sure the gas pipelines are secure.
The five family members begin their morning rituals.
Robert Nogales flips on the stove and fries up an egg for breakfast.
Tucson Electric Power, also overseen by the Arizona Corporation
Commission, juices the stove.
Rosemary's sweetheart since high school, Robert is a 43-year-old sheet-metal worker and the family's one consistent voter.
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Rosemary Nogales,
fixing breakfast at home, thinks about government when her family
needs its protection.
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Rosemary laughs easily and enjoys a low-maintenance routine, as
she wears little makeup and casual dress. But TEP also powers
an indispensable part of her morning ritual, the dryer she uses
on her short, only slightly graying dark hair.
Thanks to an agreement between TEP and the Arizona Corporation
Commission, the Nogales family can be assured their rates won't
go up for the next four years.
Rosemary brushes her teeth compliments of Tucson Water. The
state requires water companies to test for 82 substances, from
cancer-causing trichloroethylene to nitrates and fluoride. The
wastewater flows to the county's treatment plant, which meets
water quality standards set by the United States and enforced
by the state Department of Environmental Quality.
The family doesn't drink the water that flows through the tap,
preferring bottled water. But when Tucson Water sends a blend
of well water and Central Arizona Project water to all customers
in 2001, it will be with the blessing of the Arizona Department
of Water Resources, which issues permits.
The state water department helped Tucson Water set a target
for water use of 158 gallons per person, a day. The Nogales family
fills a small pool but saves water on a desert landscape with
roses added.
After breakfast, the family scatters: Robert to Raytheon, 18-year-old
Benjamin to the university, 16-year-old Matthew to Desert View
High School, 14-year-old Nicholas to Challenger Middle School,
Rosemary to her shift at Elvira Elementary.
Robert drives south on Old Nogales Highway to the Raytheon
missile plant, crossing railroad tracks on the way. The Arizona
Corporation Commission's administration department enforces railroad
safety and keeps track of collisions at crossings.
The Department of Environmental Quality makes sure the blue
1980 Monte Carlo he drives to work meets emissions standards.
For an individual cost of $10 and the time of the test, Tucsonans
breathe air with 23 percent less carbon monoxide, said Nancy Wrona,
who runs the air quality division.
And the state Occupational Safety and Health Administration
makes sure working conditions are safe at Raytheon, where Robert
crafts specialty projects out of metal.
Benjamin, the University of Arizona freshman, hops a city bus
at 12th Avenue and Inez Street, making one of Sun Tran's 14.9
million passenger trips a year.
Compressed natural gas fuels the bus, under a state Department
of Commerce energy program requiring public transit systems to
do their part to clean up the air.
Tucson kicks in $15 million a year for the system, but the
state general fund adds $1.4 million a year and the state lottery
provides nearly $3 million. The Nogales family stockings included
lottery tickets at Christmastime - yielding $6 to the state.
Benjamin is one of 6,323 UA students on an academic scholarship,
at a cost of about $15 million a year - $4.1 million from the
university, the rest from private sources. The state appropriated
$319.6 million to run the UA and its College of Medicine this
year.
Matthew, a Desert View sophomore, rides a school bus. School districts
aren't required to provide transportation, but if they do, the
state Department of Education pays $101 per student.
Matthew just got his driver's permit. He squeaked in before a
new state law Jan. 1, which requires teens to drive 25 hours with
their parents if they don't take a driver's education course.
Rosemary still cajoles Matthew to drive with her, but so far,
nothing doing.
Rosemary drops 14-year-old Nicholas off at Challenger Middle School,
then hustles to her part-time job at Elvira Elementary.
The Department of Education sends the Sunnyside Unified School
District $5,985 each to educate Matthew and Nicholas. The department
also provides $7 million statewide for school resource officers
- which both schools have to improve safety. ``It makes me feel
better that they're there,'' Rosemary says.
When the boys set foot in class, they're taught by Department
of Education-certified teachers, who have been fingerprinted to
make sure they have clean histories. The department also approved
their curriculum and provided money to build their classrooms.
Rosemary pays $10 for a week of school lunches for each son. The
Department of Education's nutrition unit ensures that the food
meets dietary guidelines. The boys aren't fond of the district's
tortilla soup, but today it's chicken nuggets, so the pressure's
off Mom to make sure after-school snacks are immediately available.
Rosemary works a three-hour shift at Elvira.
The couple makes about $42,000 a year and contributes about $700
to the state in income taxes. ``More than I want to pay, I'll
tell you that,'' Robert grumbles.
It's Rosemary's last day at the school, after 10 years helping
to teach kindergartners. She's looking for a job with higher pay
and more hours, maybe in shipping and receiving. Today she splits
her time between two kindergarten classes, with 25 to 30 pupils
each.
``That's a lot of kids. And for teachers, it's a big class,''
says Rosemary. The school doesn't get enough money from the state
to hire full-time aides, so teachers do most of the one-on-one
academic work in the morning when the aides are there to help
with colors, shapes and reading.
Four times this year alone the kindergarten classes couldn't find
substitute teachers, so the pupils had to be farmed out to other
already-full classrooms.
After work, Rosemary drives to her 73-year-old mother's home near
10th Avenue and Ajo Way for their weekly jaunt to buy groceries.
For the past 20 years, Rosemary drove the Monte Carlo. Last year,
she told her husband it was time for a new car. Now she tools
around in a slate-blue 2000 Buick Le Sabre. The vehicle license
tax on the new car alone cost the couple $499 last year, even
after lawmakers cut the tax two years in a row.
The state collected $594 million from the tax last year. Half
is spent to improve state highways and city and county streets.
State, city and county governments spend the rest as they like.
On the way to the store, Rosemary slows to a crawl as city workers
widen South 12th Avenue, just north of Valencia Road. The project
won't be done until November.
``The roads are always under construction in this town,'' she
laments, although she's happy to see the heavily used road fixed.
Maneuvering through construction zones is another time she thinks
about her tax money.
This $3.5 million city project is from 1994 transportation bonds
that are being repaid from the vehicle license tax and the 18-cent-a-gallon
gas tax that the state collects. In 1998, the city received $41
million in such funds; the county got $28 million.
Rosemary picks up pork chops and a roast, lettuce and onions for
the night's tacos at the Fry's on 16th Avenue and Ajo Way. ``These
boys eat all the time and stay so skinny. I think it all goes
to their feet,'' she says, sighing.
The Department of Health pays for promotional materials in the
grocery store encouraging people to eat five servings of fruits
and vegetables a day to cut the risk of stroke and cancer.
The state Department of Agriculture spot-checks shipments of fruits
and vegetables to make sure they meet a certain quality, size
and sugar content.
The department inspects slaughterhouses to make sure the animals
are healthy and treated humanely. Inspectors also test milk at
the pasteurization process and make sure the fat percentages on
the labels are correct.
Rosemary doesn't pay a tax on her food purchases. Unlike some
cities around the state, Tucson doesn't impose a food tax, although
some city officials are worried a state move to standardize tax
rates might take away that flexibility.
Afterward, she fills her mother's blood pressure prescription.
Intergroup, a private HMO, helps defray the cost of the medicine.
The state Department of Insurance examines the market conduct
of the 10 active HMOs in the state, making sure they don't misrepresent
their services to costumers. The department also tries to resolve
customer complaints and mediates disputes over denied services
or claims.
At home later, Rosemary calls a former Elvira kindergarten teacher
now living in Phoenix. The Arizona Corporation Commission monitors
U S West and her long-distance carrier, AT&T, for in-state
long-distance calls. It also staffs a consumer question line,
answering questions about charges on bills.
As evening draws near, the Nogales family chows down on Rosemary's
tacos and watches the Atlanta Falcons stomp the San Francisco
49ers.
This is a rare night: The family doesn't see the smelly-puking-habit
TV commercials that the Department of Health pays for to discourage
teen smoking.
Dinner finished, the last chore of the night is to throw away
the remnants.
It was trash collection day. The city hauls the waste to nearby
Los Reales landfill, where the state enforces a host of health
and safety requirements, from covering the garbage with 6 inches
of soil to keep rodents and roaches away, to watching for ground
water pollution around the unlined facility.
Rosemary says she's surprised by how many of her daily activities
can be traced back to the state.
Robert is less impressed. He's a little cynical about government
anyway, passing that along to son Benjamin, who's just now old
enough to vote. ``What would any of them do for you?'' the teen
says of presidential candidates.
Robert tends to follow recommendations of his machinists union
in voting, and thinks the Legislature favors Phoenix.
Ultimately, all the news does is confirm his long-held suspicion.
``There's too much government. I guess it's one form of employment,
but every time someone goes and gets a job with the government,
there goes my taxes.''
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