A Tale of Two Meetings

Purpose of meeting:	Homeowners association
Scheduled starting time:	7:00 p.m.
Actual time meeting started:	7:02 p.m.
Agenda:	Speeches and speeches, updates and updates. Councilman presentation on how the neighborhood successfully blocked a developer from McMansioning a yay-size property Fire marshal presentation: don’t let children near fire Update on the upcoming neighborhood social (decision made to have a kosher stand). Congressperson made a pit stop. Shook hands—a bit too firmly-- smiled staidly and… very proud to represent us in congress. (Elegantly frazzled staffer subtly distributed campaign buttons made in China.)
Most interesting person there:	Elderly woman in a Chanel suit and flip-flops knitting a… tablemat? sweater? large bib? who seemed totally disinteresting in everything except the issue of people parking on the street. Police spokesperson gently reminded her that… um, parking is allowed on city streets. She was not happy. Not happy at all. Police spokesperson shriveled when she narrowed her eyes and poked her ball of wool with two army-size needles. I love her. It seems perfectly normal now not to want people parking their stupid automobiles on the street.
Most uncomfortable moment:	Spotted PTA-Nazi housewife who dresses her daughters like Future Republican Security Moms looking at me with her trademark “Oh, you are one of those mothers who work?” glare dripping from her fluttering eyelashes. Time to pretend to check the Blackberry. Don’t let me find her parked on the street.
Best line of the evening:	HOA chairman says how great it was that the neighborhood was diversifying, “y’know, ethnically.” Cool. 1 black person, 2 Asians and several people of middle eastern background. Maybe, chairman said flashing a “I love you people” smile, “maybe it’s time for some kind of ‘international day’ celebration.” I like. TrE siga being carved from a whole bull hung on hooks at the Ethiopian section. Or… chairman didn’t mean an all out “ethnic rally day” a la Senator Macacawitz, did he?
Times I checked my watch:	More than 15
# of decisions made and voted on:	10. Everything on the agenda.
Scheduled end time:	8: 30 p.m.
Actual time meeting ended:	8:33 p.m.
Next meeting:	Quick check of calendar- date set
How we knew the meeting was over:	Several personal electronic devices beeped.
What happened after the meeting:	Now that business was done with… everyone was politely priming to rush to get away from each other. I had to remind myself these were my neighbors and this was a community meeting… so I decided to, whatdoyoucallit, commune. How are you… how are you… how are you? Pretty obvious no one knew no one’s name. Oh, hey… we should go running together. Call me. No one touched the punch and cookies. (What?! Carbs?! Heresy.) Very skillfully, we were all edging towards the door. Don’t know if it was paranoia but had a feeling PTA-Nazi was trying to corner me. I love her shoes. My daughter had barfed on mine that morning. It was drizzling, cold and dark outside. I didn’t have an umbrella coz that’s how I roll. People muttered tart goodnights and pretended they didn’t see me putting up my collar. They opened their small, tiny, one-person umbrellas and melted into the night. I hunkered beneath my briefcase and ran to my car. I stepped into a puddle. Ah. One way to wash off barf off of footwear.

And then four days later:

Purpose of meeting:	An Ethiopian community/grassroots philanthropic/outreach… something
Scheduled starting time:	6:30 p.m-ish
Actual time meeting started:	7:28 p.m.
Agenda:	Agenda?
Most interesting person there:	Elderly, supremely elegant man who kept referring to the young people present as “tikuss hyloch”… and not in that sarcastic, demeaning way either.
Most uncomfortable moment:	A know-it-all (yeah? we have those?) 50-ish ex-EPRP type kept lamenting how people in Addis were being forced out of their houses to live in “condoms.” Ahhh, really? Because of the AIDS? Ohhh. It… was… not… meant… in… an… allegorical, art-as-truth kinda way.
Best line of the evening:	“Fqr yeTemawun hzb fqr magat mechal alebn.” (No way to translate that so it makes sense… loosely, “we have the responsibility of feeding love to a people parched for love.”) I tried picturing scenarios in which I force-feed my love to a reluctant ET. Maybe not so much.
Times I checked my watch:	More than 15.
# of decisions made and voted on:	I think…one. We decided to decide on the name of the organization at the next meeting.
Scheduled end time:	“Eskemiyasschilen.” (“Until we can bear it.”)
Actual time meeting ended:	9:47 p.m.
How we knew the meeting was over:	We could not think of anymore broad, over-reaching, magnificent declarations. Once you have declared your mission to be feeding love, people, there ain’t nowhere to go but down.
What happened after the meeting:	I had let my brother drop me off, and like all people in their 20s who have a warped sense of punctuality, he was nowhere to be seen when the meeting finally broke. It was dark. I resigned myself to wait in the lobby but the security guard was shutting the building. As we all headed outside the group noticed I did not have a ride. Immediately, five people offered to drop me off even though it was out of their way. I thanked everyone, but, I insisted, slacker brother will be here any moment. It was decided (without a word being uttered) everyone would wait with me. (Time honored Ethiopian concept of “maTabeq”) No. really. It was getting late. I’ll be fine... really… Nothing doing. My weak mutters of protest were shushed. An impromptu circle formed. The conversation veered to who knew whom from where. How’s your mother? How’s your father? How’s Abba so-and-so. “Ye kebere selamta… innEm.” So there we were, 10 strangers who were not strangers at all. I lost track of how late my brother was. It was a cold night, but in so many ways it was warm. And I needed warmth.