Member-only story
Family Rules— The Boston Globe
We met monthly and very officially, as members of an imaginary civic organization. We were barely a quorum, and I was barely 10. The other members, with the exception of my father, were my three siblings, who were also children. But we were very serious about our club. We had proper roles, and when we assembled, we were formally in session.
We adhered to Robert’s Rules of Order and called our meetings to order with the mallet from a toy xylophone. We usually dressed up, as one should for an important meeting, and sometimes we wore hats. Occasionally, pajamas were permitted, but only because the meeting might run late.
We took attendance. We paid dues. We had an agenda. We reviewed minutes from our last meeting, and voted to accept them. Since only two of us kids could read, this took some time. I was secretary because I thought taking notes was good practice to be the writer I was intent on becoming. One of my sisters served as treasurer just to count money, and my brother was a lax vice president. My youngest sister, barely a toddler, was simply required to attend as a voting member. My father was president.
Once we had our meeting structure down, he suggested we have an election. My father nominated each of us to run for president, and said he would serve in another capacity. We wrote and delivered campaign speeches.
