Do you have a burning desire to belong to clubs? Apparently, I do. I’ve been in a fraternity, several writers groups, a few service organizations and some really snazzy clubs in Atlanta that stay open until the wee hours of the morning. I join clubs — over and over — but the trouble is I always grow weary of the same old routine, the endless meetings, and the secret handshakes I can never get right. Listen, it’s not a problem with the clubs; it’s me. I’m easily bored. Well, since I have an uncontrollable desire to socialize, and I struggle to find a club that fits me perfectly, I suppose I should just start one of my own.
I could start a club for intellectuals. We could sit around and discuss advanced thermodynamics or debate the nuances of quantum mechanics. On second thought, that sounds about as lame as Disneyland opening a ride called "Pop Quiz" where you whirl around in a big, hollow number-two pencil while trying to solve quadratic equations. Of course, I could go to the other extreme and open a club for those of very limited intelligence, but I’d just end up competing with Congress for members. I’m not going to do that. I can’t afford fancy meeting places like they can, and I certainly don’t want to start a club where the members think your bank account is club property to spend as they see fit.
Before I figure out what kind of members to attract, I suppose I should come up with a reason for the club to exist. We could patrol the streets and protect people, but that’s rather dangerous, and I don’t own a working cattle prod. We could spend a ton of money and tell lies over cocktails, but I’ve already said I don’t want to duplicate Congress. We could eat cookies, drink milk, play games, and sing songs. And what if we all got coloring books and crayons? Yeah! I’ve just figured it out. My desire to join clubs isn’t because of some innate need to socialize — I just want to recreate kindergarten! I can’t think of a better club than that: A club where a snack and a good, long nap are required activities and where no one needs to own a cattle prod. I bet I could even remember a secret handshake or two, if there’s a chocolate chip cookie involved.
David McCoy, a notorious storyteller and proud Yellow Jacket, lives in Conyers, can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.