Minutes to Memories

My parents always rented. I, on the other hand, have become a homeowner on four different occasions since becoming an adult. People say that’s the American dream, but having someone else fix a leaky roof sounds a little dreamy to me sometimes. With the combination of Hurricane Katrina and the grace of God however, we truly believe the fourth time’s the charm for us. We absolutely love our house, and we absolutely love our neighborhood.

Tonight was neighborhood meeting night. Until tonight, I have never attended a meeting of homeowners. It was interesting, to say the least.

Around sixty people met at a local restaurant, representing approximately forty of the one hundred and three homes in our subdivision. I knew Jennifer, who initiated tonight’s meeting, and she did an admirable job considering where all it went. We do not have a homeowner’s association; in fact, forming one seemed to have been the purpose of tonight’s meeting. Instead, it turned out to be an opportunity for lots of griping, along with the occasional soapbox.

I sat with Al and Marie, new neighbors who have recently relocated from New Orleans. Neither of us had received the neighborhood covenant, though we picked up a copy tonight. I really enjoyed the opportunity to get to visit with them and get to know them a little better. After the meeting, we had the chance to visit with Dennis, a mutual neighbor, which was nice, too. Dennis has been in the neighborhood a long time, and he was very helpful in answering a bunch of questions from us new kids on the block.

In spite of the complaint session, it seems we’re going to start a neighborhood association anyway, and from its inauspicious start tonight, it ought to be an interesting (and volatile) organization. I plan to jump in with both feet (I live for controversy!). Seriously, I look forward to whatever it takes to bring people together, especially my very own neighborhood.

I guess I’m an old fogy in certain ways, and longing for days gone by where neighbors knew each other by name, shared the occasional cup of sugar, and was the first on the scene to cry over tragedy and rejoice over triumphs seems beautiful to me. I’d love to see it happen on my street. In fact, my wife and I have this great idea we’re going to try at Christmastime. We plan to host a little drop-in street party for the eleven houses on our street, complete with Christmas cookies and Christmas music and all that holiday cheer!

But refereeing fights in a homeowner’s association might work, too.

Christmas cookies taste better, but whatever works…