I’ve never been to Lowell Bog. But, according to the map, I share a state House district with it and any voters it might contain. (Legislative candidate: “Thanks for your time, Mr. Swamp Thing. I hope you’ll decide I’m the best person to represent you, because of my support for wetlands protection.”)

The district I live in stretches from Franklin County’s Coplin Plantation, near the south branch of the Dead River (“I appreciate your talking to me, Ms. Zombie, and I hope you’ll back my efforts to reduce the estate tax”), across sparsely populated terrain in central Somerset County, to the Piscataquis County town of Wellington (“You’re right, Duke, this country has got to maintain a strong national defense in case we’re threatened with an invasion by the emperor of France”). As the crow flies, it’s over 50 miles from one end to the other. As the roads – many of them unpaved – meander, it’s probably more than twice that.

I’ve never met my state representative. I doubt most people in my town could tell you his name. (“It’s not still that Swamp Thing guy, is it?”)

The state Senate district that covers this area is even more immense. In fact, it’s bigger than Rhode Island. Only with more trees and somewhat less corruption.

My senator (whomever it is) represents a territory with an international flavor. It starts on the Canadian border – enveloping Madrid, Belgrade and Vienna (“Of course I take campaign contributions in Euros”), as well as 32 other towns and unorganized territories in three counties – and ends within mortar range of the state capital.

When I hear well-meaning folks – by which I mean idiots – suggest we reduce the size of the Maine Legislature, I have visions of being swept up in an even more enormous political subdivision that’s represented by somebody in Bangor. Or Bangkok.

Cutting the number of legislators is a perennial favorite theme of clunkheads, who have no idea how government works. They’re convinced such a move would save money and reduce the number of stupid laws that get passed. After all, that idea has worked well in other places. Such as North Korea, where the ruling body is just one guy – who’s bankrupted the country and issued an edict requiring all men to wear the same strange haircut he sports.

Nevertheless, the view that eliminating a few senators and representatives would improve the situation persists. Just this past June, a constitutional amendment to dump 19 members from the House and two from the Senate was defeated by lopsided votes in (sound the irony alarm) the House and Senate. If it had passed, every state representative would have added an extra 1,250 constituents and each state senator would have picked up more than 2,000. The chances of any given voter getting lost in the crowd would have grown just a little bit greater.

There’s another reason why smaller isn’t better. The more sizable a legislative district, the less its residents have in common. That’s already a problem across much of the northern two-thirds of the state, where tiny agricultural hamlets are lumped in with mill towns, and villages that depend on outdoor recreation for their livelihood are bound up with industrial centers that can’t afford to spare a sparrow or a spruce.

It’s hard to figure how one person could adequately represent the post-secondary educational interests of both Princeton and Columbia (state Senate District 29), the one-upmanship of Summit and Topsfield (House District 11) or the competing global expansionist intentions of Rome and Carthage (state Senate District 18).

Throwing even more diverse constituencies into even more immense districts would make it even more difficult for any candidate who expressed anything remotely like a strong opinion to win an election. With too many tiny collections of interests clamoring for attention, the only way for a politician to attract a majority of the vote would be to espouse positions so bland they’d play in both Brighton Plantation and Misery Township (state Senate District 26).

We already have a governor that does that. Do we really want an entire Legislature just like him?

Democracy is a messy process. It works best when there’s vigorous debate by committed advocates across a rainbow of opinion. Brownville should have a clear voice at the capital, as should Greenville, Blue Hill, Red Rock Corner, Whitefield and even Gray. There’s no reason to lump Richville’s sentiments in with those of Poors Corner. If the people of Iceboro are hot on an idea, that doesn’t mean the populace in Sunshine can’t be cool to it. We’d all be better off if Upper Gloucester and Lower Beddington settled their differences in public.

We don’t need a smaller Legislature expressing fewer viewpoints. If anything, we could use something more encompassing, maybe a body twice the size it is now.

That way, nobody would get my concerns up mixed up with those of normal people.

E-mails, large and small, may be sent to me at aldiamon@herniahill.net.