Heroes in Hiding: The Tale of a Community United and a POA Chairman’s Lament

In a stunning twist of fate, the recent hurricane that swept through our community brought about a phenomenon not seen in a while: neighbors helping each other out. Despite a history marked by petty infighting and bickering over whose lawnmower is noisier and whose dog barks louder, the storm seemed to have washed away layers of animosity.

In the days following the disaster, residents were seen sharing generators, clearing debris, and offering each other food and shelter. Neighbors cleared trees off of roads, gave each other water, obtained emergency supplies for the elderly, and pulled together as a community.

However, amid this uplifting display of unity, one voice of discontent remained steadfast: our beloved POA chairman. Instead of joining the efforts or acknowledging the community’s resilience, she took to Facebook to deliver a stirring monologue about the selfishness and greed that supposedly marred the post-hurricane efforts.

“I am saddened that before, during and after a disaster how much selfishness and self-centeredness there is in this world.” Kelle typed furiously, “I understand a little bit of ‘having to take care if self first so you can help others’. But man we are in deep shit when the ‘real disaster’ comes.”  To continue her martyrdom she added “I am just sad because of the way people are acting. I have so much more on my mind but what does it matter. The world has gone to hell in a hand basket and just getting worse. We are taking a break today to celebrate us, so I dont need to add a bigger backhoe attachment to my tractor. ”  Wow, what a leader, what an inspiration.

Her post was met with stunned silence and a few awkward reactions. After all, the evidence of community spirit was everywhere. But the chairman, undeterred by facts or reality, continued to lament the supposed moral decline of our neighborhood.

Residents couldn’t help but marvel at the chairman’s ability to overlook the obvious. “It’s almost impressive how she can ignore all the good happening around her,” commented one neighbor, who preferred to remain anonymous. “It’s like she’s living in an alternate reality.”

As her post racked up comments of support from distant relatives and Facebook friends who had no idea what was actually happening in our community, the neighbors continued their efforts. They returned to their newfound camaraderie, leaving the chairman to her solitary online lamentations. The community, it seemed, had found a new way forward—one that didn’t involve petty disputes or endless complaints.

In the end, the hurricane did more than just bring destruction; it brought a sense of unity and purpose. And while the POA chairman may continue to decry the selfishness and greed of the world from behind her keyboard, the rest of us can take pride in knowing that, at least in our little corner of it, people still know how to come together when it matters most.


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