Up close and personal

The letter arrived at our home a few weeks ago from the United States Department of Commerce. My family had been chosen, actually required by federal law, to complete the American Community Survey. At least it wasn't from the IRS.

About 3.5 million Americans get similar notices each year, instructed to provide to the government the kind of information that was formerly included on the Census Bureaus long form. Other than the tone, which seemed altogether governmental and a bit threatening, I was glad to be among the chosen.

The Census Bureau wanted to know whether our home had running water and flush toilets, about our computers and Internet access, the average electric bill, education, income, commute times to work, whether I had trouble climbing stairs. The responses are confidential, which is fitting considering the personal nature of the questions, but without a doubt valuable to the government and businesses that rely on data to frame decisions.

In the broadest sense, information gathered by the Census Bureau every 10 years with its nationwide survey or with its annual American Community Surveys tells us who we are, at least statistically. Its big-picture data that can be sorted into smaller snapshots — the percentage of families in Grand Ledge receiving food stamps or the average cost for water and sewer services in Meridian Township.

But whats missing and will be missed in 2082 with the release of the 2010 Census, is person-by-person, block-by-block detail about who we are. The U.S. Constitution requires a 10-year census to apportion seats in the House of Representatives. But over time the range of questions has broadened, providing a wealth of information about our ancestors. For millions of Americans this is valuable stuff.

In fact, finding out about our families has never been easier as massive databases of records are now available online. Services like Ancestery.com, Myheritage.com and Geneology.com scrape information from governments, newspapers, religious organizations and other sources, all of it available at a nominal charge.

The 1940 Census was released last year. From it I learned that my maternal grandfather was a bookkeeper at a distilling business, earned $1,800 a year, worked a 44-hour week, got 2 weeks’ vacation and received more than $50 from sources other than salary or wages. My grandmother was a “housewife,” and besides her age, there wasnt much more recorded. Both graduated from high school. Oddly, altogether missing was my mother, who was living at home.

On the other side, I discover that my paternal grandfather was an insurance broker who worked a 48-hour week. The pay was listed at zero. He and my grandmother, a housewife, had eight-grade educations. Living with them were my father, an aunt and an uncle.

In 2015 is any of this personal detail important to the nation? Not really. But the 1940 Census tells us about communities that were still struggling with the Great Depression and families that were about to be drawn into World War II. With this census and older ones we see the ethnic make-up of neighborhoods, the size and nature of families, their lineage, the range of occupations, the value of homes, whether they were owned or rented.

Not the big picture, but compelling miniatures.

Compare the answers on the 1940 Census with what will appear in 72 years on the 2010 Census forms. Future researchers — maybe, even my descendants — will find only plain vanilla information: names, ages, race or ethnicity, relationships and a telephone number (added in case the responses required clarification). Its neither interesting nor particularly informative for purposes other than congressional redistricting.

The modern census process is under attack from conservative Republicans in Congress on grounds that it invades peoples privacy. They have also cut funding for the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

In March, John Culberson, a Texas Republican who heads the Commerce, Justice, Science and Related Agencies subcommittee, complained that the American Community Survey was too long, too intrusive and shouldn't be mandatory. “Our most important right as Americans is to be left alone,” Culberson said, parroting the conservative legislative line that applies only until lawmakers seek to impose their behavioral values on others. He also said, somewhat disingenuously, that “I have a lot of constituents who are concerned about the American Community Survey.”

But asking for only voluntary responses, would degrade the statistical value of the survey, requiring the government to gather even more survey information, costing the government an additional $90 million, the Census Bureau said.

So far Democrats, with the support of the business community and the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, have deflected attempts to rein in the Census Bureau. President Obama has threatened to veto any measure targeting the survey and so it continues.

My answers have been returned to the Census Bureau. Its all done online, although I would have received a hard copy form to complete, if I didn't file electronically.

As for the future, I should take my copy of the survey, seal it in an envelope not to be opened until 2082 when the lightweight 2010 Census is finally released. At least with a copy of my American Community Survey there will be some meaningful information for any of my family who might be interested in old grandpa Mick.