Somehow, I have become a person of power in my neighborhood. When I volunteered to be the secretary of our neighborhood association, I had no idea that this would make me one of the “trustees”Â of said association.
When I think of a “trustee”Â I think of a sixty-something older person who has lived here for 30 or more years, with an intricate knowledge of county politics, topography and planning and zoning. That, or Jimmy Carter. I, however, am 28; I’ve lived here for a little over two years; I’ve never lived here before; I couldn’t care less about county politics. I don’t think that I could even pick Buzz Westfall (our county executive) out of a lineup.
Not that I really have all that much power as a trustee. I get to send out letters letting everyone know about our annual meeting that no one ever goes to. I get to say “OK”Â when the treasurer tells me that our insurance went up $33 this year.
Anyway, this is all very boring and I’m sorry that I even mentioned it. I thought it was going to be funny, but it wasn’t. Hey, no one promised you Letterman, all right?