They happen on the final Thursday of each month.
I don’t always attend.
Between two children, part-time work from home, and everything else, I go only when I can.
But that October evening happened to be free.
So I went.
Anyone who has attended neighborhood meetings knows the pattern.
Streetlights.
Stop signs.
Holiday decorations.
Parking complaints.
Then comes the portion where residents can raise concerns.
Marguerite lifted her hand.
Before she even spoke, I noticed how composed she looked.
She had clearly thought about what she was going to say.
She began explaining that some children in the neighborhood were extremely loud while playing outside and that their noise interfered with her morning yoga.
Then she said,
“Certain people should learn responsibility before they have children. If you can’t be responsible for what you’ve tamed, you shouldn’t take it on.”
And she looked directly at me.
Several neighbors followed her gaze.
My face burned.
For about four seconds, I considered every response available.
I could expose her.
Tell everyone that the woman lecturing others about responsibility had spent six months leaving her dog’s mess on my lawn.
I could politely raise the issue.
I could make a sarcastic joke.