At first glance, the Clubhouse is not much to look at. Old wicker chairs sit in a tiny lobby, fighting for space with huge plants. There is a shelf of dusty books and even dustier games. The paint on the walls is a dingy off (way off) white hue. The dining room and common area is very clean. Small individual tables not much bigger than card tables are spaced six feet apart with one chair each.
There is a fish tank full of Mollies, black ones and gold ones. The gold ones are Balloon Mollies. The Mollies scour the gravel and fake plants, plucking invisible morsels to eat. In the years I’ve been coming here, I’ve never seen anyone changing the water, adding or removing fish, but the tank is always pristine.
I hear staff talking with members. I hear traffic outside and people walking talking on their cell phones. I want to say to them. “Hey, we’re here. We are a part of this community too. Let us tell you what we’re all about.”
