An exercise in Democracy

I am blessed to live in a wonderful neighborhood. I actually like my neighbors. We see each other in our yards and wave and say hello. I know the names of their dogs, and where their kids go to school. I buy popcorn and wrapping paper and Girl Scout cookies when kids come to my front door.

There are neighborhood Bunco groups, and a group of women who get together to play cards. Every Christmas we have a neighborhood progressive party, where we start at someone's house for appetizers, and move on to another home for dessert. There's a hayride associated with Halloween and pumpkin carving before the big day. There's even a Welcoming Committee to provide families moving a few goodies but most importantly, a sense of neighborhood.

Which is why attending the annual neighborhood association meeting is so perplexing. After a particularly loud outburst one of my neighbor's leaned over and said, "We're not in Pleasantville anymore!"

There's something about the structure of an all-volunteer group of people telling another group of people how to behave that just rubs people the wrong way. The concept is a good one -- and it's tested, tried and true. I mean, where would we be without the Ten Commandments or the Bill of Rights? Even the name "Covenants" conjures up a code with which we all must abide. At some point, we have to write down a common set of principles on how to behave or I guess we'd just rip each other to shreds.

But the power struggle is always fascinating to watch. I am as equally perplexed by the naysayers who argue every change and point fingers of disdain as I am the people who volunteer to lead us. What do they get out of this service? Our neighborhood will continue on, no matter who leads us, of that I'm sure. And these are NOT life and death issues. But the passion is real and the fervor is intense.

It is an exercise in Democracy, and in the end, we all vote. And tomorrow, we all wave and smile and stop to chat and pet the dogs. We all return to Pleasantville.