Committe Avoidance

 My Dad was never a "joiner," as he used to call it. He never wanted to be part of organizations, other than those he HAD to be a part of, like the giftware company he worked. He had an independent streak, and his four years in the US Army were tough on him in that way -- despising having to take orders from people he knew were dumber than he was.

Mom DID like groups, and was a member of several during my childhood -- like ORT, which helped colleges in Israel. She was more social than Dad, and enjoyed the sisterhood of those groups. I guess I ended up somewhere in the middle.

I joined lots of clubs and organizations in high school and college -- government, social groups, etc. I love UM, and in the 90s my friend Ross was Dean of UM's College of Arts and Sciences. He formed a "Visiting Committee," which met and advised him about how the College could improve and do more for the community. I stayed on that committee for decades, as the Deans would come and go like the guests in "The Grand Hotel."

During my last stint, the Dean was a fellow still there -- and I didn't much care for him. The committee changed -- from regular alums, to very rich people, like the last Chair, the wife of a mutual fund company owner. I sort of drifted away, and finally about 5 years ago the Dean split the Committee -- real rich members, and a sort of poor man's sub group. I saw my chance, and fled.

Over the years, Rabbi Yossi has asked me to join groups. I was on one, when the congregation really needed money to continue. It was there that I saw first hand why Dr. Barry always complains about the countless committees his job requires he join -- people LOVE to hear themselves talk. I ended up slouching away, and when he recently asked me to be on the executive board of a new thing he was starting, I said NO! before he finished getting out his request.

Well, locally, Wifey and I are on our HOA executive board -- she is "Crime Watch Chair," and does very little on account of fortunately we have little crime here. I was nominated to be the "Welcome Chair," where I served from probably '02 to '15 or so. My job consisted of greeting new neighbors, explaining the HOA, and handing them a bottle of wine. I liked it -- getting to meet the new folks and learning their stories.

But the Executive Committee meetings were a bit onerous, and when one member suggested maybe I NOT give wine, since it may be an improper gift due to religious purposes or because people were "in recovery," I got prickly and stepped down. We don't have too many Mormons here, or Baptists, for that matter, and hey -- recovery is for quitters! Neighbor Ann happily took over -- she is a VERY aggressive realtor, and saw the Chair as a way to get future clients, when the new neighbors decided to sell. Alas, Ann moved away -- for a hilarious reason.

She was, as confirmed by pictures from her Long Island High School yearbook, a beauty back in the day. She's now past 70. One day, she was having lunch in the Grove with her husband Mark, a retired lawyer, and Mark was enjoying the local fauna -- scantily dressed. Ann decided no mas -- she wasn't going to live in a city with all these hot young women -- and they relocated to Raleigh, where there is far more frumpiness. Hey -- I admire her gumption, though I never care when I'm around hot young guys -- I figure I probably have more money than they do, and besides, I don't plan on re-entering the dating pool ever again.

So I was asked and rejoined the Committee -- and it was historically busier than ever, as the pandemic brought in a rash of new people, buying up the houses of happy sellers who HAD houses worth around $1M which they now sold in crazy Miami for $2.5 to $3.5M.

And then, we had a bit of a controversy -- our FHP part time troopers wanted more money, and we had a vote about taxing ourselves double or triple to keep them. Wifey and I voted no, as I don't think we even need the Security Patrol anymore -- it came about in the 80s wild times where Miami Dade Police, then Metro Dade, weren't too effective at combating the driveway robberies that were as common as peafowl now are. But Pinecrest incorporated, we have top notch police, and I think the Patrol is sort of an expensive relic.

Problem is, we have a lot of old timers who want to keep it, and I understand. Many are older widows who feel safer with the part time present of the black and gold cars, and the friendly troopers who will even meet said widows at local restaurants and accompany them home, if they feel scared. It's a nice amenity, and we pay about $2500 per year for it. Under the new proposals, that would double , after tripling for the first year.

Anyway, our HOA pres , after the vote came to NOT pay more, decided to form a new committee to "explore alternatives." She asked Wifey and me to be on it, as "Exec Board" representatives. In a weak moment, we agreed, to later find out that another member was a neighbor we truly can't stand -- probably a mentally ill woman who is also a sneak. But we figured we were on, and would see it through.

And then Fate came to visit! D1's nanny quit, and she needed us to help with pre school pickup and afternoon childcare. And the first session was yesterday -- in conflict with the meeting! So I emailed Sam, the new Chair, who I can tell is taking this very seriously, as he has already sent 10 dates before the end of the year he wishes us to "keep open," to say we had to miss the first meeting.

Wifey saw things more clearly -- we really ought to quit totally, since who knows when our grandparent duties would conflict again? And so we did -- resigning.

Another neighbor Evan, a long time County Attorney and staunch opponent of paying more, wanted on. But the President thwarted him -- writing that she already had a replacement -- a different Exec Board member. Evan protested that the Commitee lost TWO -- so couldn't he be one of the quitters' replacement? He could not.

As I followed this HOA drama, I told Wifey we had made the right call -- we had done our part for the 'hood -- let some of the younger, newer residents take over, if they care to.

I plan to get more like my Dad, and less like my Mom. This crochety old man knows his limitations, and listening to people drone on is something I need to avoid.