OutTakes: Who Wants a Predictable
Town Meeting Anyway?
Commentary by Edd Merritt
March 10, 2011, page 16.....

Well, if I had my way tomorrow or today
Babe, I’d run circles all around
I’d jump up in the wind, do a somersault and spin
I’d even dance a jig on the ground. . .
Bob Dylan, “All Over You”

Dick Preston and his band, The Unpredictables, should head the docket on Town Meeting Day. Its name fits the event perfectly.
Each year there appears to be a wicket wired to an agenda item. This year the item was tax-exemption for the Freemason’s Lodge. The croquet ball of discussion spun every which way – not to mention a few “roquets” heading it toward the tall grass of indecision – before John Rosenthal malleted it back on track.
It had to do with the town’s exemption for the lodge located on Church Hill Road across from Mutton Hill. (There must be a joke in here about old lamb, but it escapes me.)
Moderator Jerry Schwarz observed that this meeting had to hold the record for a “discussion of why a Masonic Lodge should receive an exemption.”
Well, yes, Jerry, it probably did.
By the same token, it brought back memories. As a kid in Minnesota I must admit my Masonic connection had nothing whatsoever to do with organizational tenets and everything to do with an attractive young woman who happened to be a Job’s Daughter. I had two close friends – Bob and Wally – who also were awash with testosterone, and the three of us decided that the best way to relieve the itch was to take over DeMolay. We descended on it like Jesse James on the Northfield Bank.
Wally was the hottest drummer in southwest Rochester. He and I banged out tunes with our band, the White Sport Coats. We wowed the girls with music. Bob was a juggler and gymnast. In high school he and another friend became the first male members of the cheerleading squad – pumping up the football crowd with cartwheels, flips, handstands – you name the move, they were willing to try it. This was the late 1950s, well before Title 9 and equal gender opportunity in sports. To make cheerleading a “sport for guys” was pretty gutsy.
Bob, by the way, was also an inventive sort. After high school, he earned an architecture degree at the University of California, a five-year program that he managed to expand into seven. He avoided the draft by staying enrolled but taking every other semester off and heading to the Baja Peninsula for beach ball and brew. I, on the other hand, sat off the coast of Vietnam like Mr. Roberts, writing him nasty notes, trying desperately to hide my envy.
But back to Demolay – I never cleared step one with the Job’s Daughter of my dreams. She married Wally instead. The experience did, however, teach me something about the importance of developing a “relationship,” not just an attraction, which was very helpful when my own marriage loomed on the horizon.
This year’s Town Meeting also helped me reflect on how we ought to evaluate public practices.
Several people argued emphatically that we should not exempt an organization that excludes people on the basis of gender or other qualities by choice. And they’re right. We have a public responsibility that may differ from our personal beliefs and desires.
It was certainly personal desires that drew me to the Masons. I also learned the value of ritual. I could put up with it in order to fulfill those desires. I discovered that ritual allowed the Masons to control the Order, and order added meaning to the ritual. However, that same Order could become exclusionary without me being fully aware of it.
And, oh yes, my parents probably saw it as a safe haven from the wiles of youthful debauchery. We couldn’t have stolen a kiss if we’d wanted, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” hanging poised over our heads.
For my adolescent psyche, though, it was like panning for gold or anticipating the first puff on a weed. It was desire heightened every time I came in range of the target. Decades later, a friend from Rutland had an all-purpose phrase for things that provoked such feeling. Speaking in a strict monotone, he’d say, “Edd, it’s good but it’ll kill ya.”
So, call the question. Should we exempt the Masons from town tax?
I don’t happen to think so. Given the state of the economy and the world order today, it’s time to bite the bullet and lay out a clean slate of our responsibility for handling public money. Just because we’ve waffled in the past doesn’t mean we should continue the practice.
Was it a healthy discussion that could easily have been missed by a glance at the agenda? You bet it was.
Am I looking forward to what will trigger next year’s extended debate? You bet I am.
Be prepared for what you might find, and be careful what you say. If you don’t, it’ll kill ya.