Like A Sore Thumb

Last night, Henry and I attended our first Neighborhood Association meeting. We have lived in this neighborhood for over a year and half, but this was the first meeting that we have ever made it to. I went to voice my support of the proposed skate park across the street from our house. Henry went because he’s only two years old and I won’t let him stay home by himself yet. I was expecting a room full of people, squished together in rows of benches, or perhaps piled high on stadium seating in a giant gymnasium. There would be another few people standing at podiums, or sitting behind desks at the front of the room, the one in the center banging a gavel shouting “QUIET!”. It would be just like the city council meetings on public TV. The people would be voting “yay” or “nay”, on the issues of the day. Irate citizens would be yelling and shaking their fists, demanding action on their issue. We would blend into the crowd and eat teddy grahams. No one will notice us.

Cut to reality.

We walk into a classroom no larger than a one car garage. The room contains a bunch of smallish folding tables that have been pushed together to mimic one large conference room table. There are some old computers on student sized desks pushed and against one wall and some battered book shelves stocked with knitting supplies on the opposite wall. No one is there. We are the first to arrive. We seat ourselves at the far end of the table. Slowly, a few people enter. By the time the meeting begins, five people plus the two of us have shown up. No one is under the age of 55, except us. Everyone there except us, and one other person, are on the board of the Neighborhood Association. They greeted us warmly. They are happy to have someone show interest in what they are doing. Then, the only other person who is not actually on the board, launches into a 40 minute diatribe about the business across the street from his house and how they don’t take care of their property. It is determined that the property in question is actually located in the next county over, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants the mayor to get involved. Why should he have to look at this everyday? More threats, more insults, ten years he’s been complaining. BOOORRRRRIIINGGG. If Henry wasn’t making so much noise, I think I would have fallen asleep. Actually, Henry was pretty good, considering his age. And, I never could have fallen asleep in there because, as the new people in the room, all eyes were on us. They smiled politely as Henry repeatedly kicked the table and blurted out words like “MAMA” and “CANDY”.

It turns out that I was a bit misled. This meeting was not really to debate the building of a skate park in our neighborhood. In the last meeting, Dominic, a fifteen year old kid from the neighborhood, had proposed the idea of building a skate park to the board. They humored him by putting it on the agenda and agreed with him that it was a good idea. But considering they have no real power to put up any structures on city property nor do they have any money to fund the project, it is all just a grand idea that will probably never happen anyway. I stated my case for the skate park anyway. Mind you, I had to do it on my knees from under the table where I was chasing Henry, but I made a good argument nonetheless. They begged me to come back the next time. “It’s so nice to see a young person who cares” they said. I promised I would come back. I always wanted to be one of those people who joins a cause and gets involved. Maybe next time I can bring a gavel.....

A shout out to my hot hubby for filling up my shuffle with new tunes. I'm really enjoying them. I'm especially loving the Paul Simon and the Hall & Oates.