I remember desperately wanting to be a member of the Kids’ Club on my block when I was about eight years old. A handful of older kids, including my sister, were members. I’m not sure what membership actually got you. I’m pretty sure it was just the right to say you were a member. They may have had a few “meetings,” which meant they hung out on the island in the middle of the street a few times, but they never went on any big adventures or anything…yet, I wanted in.
A couple older girls granted me an interview, reminding me that I was really too young. “Well, let’s see her writing.” All they meant by that was my handwriting. I carefully wrote out a sentence or two and showed them my work.” They were impressed. “Okay, you’re in. You can be the secretary.”
I don’t really remember any club events after that or any secretarial tasks to be carried out, but it still felt good to be part of something, even if only in name.
My Corner of the Village 