The lake association newsletter arrives in your mailbox once a season, printed on paper that smells faintly of a church basement. It is written with love, edited with a red pen, and read with the concentration usually saved for an obituary.
The annual meeting
The annual meeting happens on a Saturday morning in a community hall with folding chairs. There is coffee. There are bars. There is one man who has a question, and he will ask it in three parts.
Attendance is voluntary but strongly noted. If you do not show up, you will be assigned to a committee.
The committees that hold the lake together
Every association runs on committees, and every committee has a chair who takes the work more seriously than anyone in the county. A short field list:
- Aquatic weeds committee: monitors the weeds, discusses the weeds, and reports that the weeds are a concern.
- Water quality committee: takes samples, holds them up to the light, and nods.
- Loon watch: counts loons, names them, and is emotionally invested in the results.
- Social committee: makes the bars. Do not underestimate the social committee.
The dock permit debate
Nothing moves a lake like a dock. How long. How wide. How close to the neighbor. Whether the lights are too bright. The debate is affectionate, ancient, and unresolved.
When in doubt, check the posted rules and the Wisconsin DNR, then bring a casserole.
The fireworks email thread
Every summer, one message about fireworks is sent to the entire lake. By evening it has forty replies, three reply-alls, and a person who wants to be removed from the list. It is the closest thing the lake has to a town square.
The Poontoon agenda item
Every year, item 9 on the agenda reads "Old business: the Poontoon." Nobody knows who put it there. Nobody has ever removed it. The discussion lasts eleven minutes and ends with a motion to table it.
We take this as a compliment. The lake has never voted against us. The lake has never voted for us. The lake has asked us to please be quieter after nine.
The newsletter itself closes the same way every issue: a reminder to check your septic, a photo of a loon nobody can identify, and a thank-you to the volunteers who did all of it. Read it cover to cover. Somewhere on page three, your name is probably mentioned in a way you will not enjoy.