Oliver Crane thought that moving to Alderbrook Hollow, a quiet region outside of Portland, would make his life better. There were birch trees and cattails around the calm lake. The plants in his yard whispered because of the wind. Every morning, he would go out to his small wooden pier, untie his twenty-one-foot skiff, and float across the tranquil water with a cup of coffee and a fishing rod. He liked doing it every day since that was the only time he felt at peace with the world
Oliver was by himself. He didn’t go to meetings or picnics with other homeowners. He liked being alone. But all changed on Friday afternoon when he opened his mailbox and saw a letter with the Alderbrook Estates HOA seal on it.
The letter went on to add, “Mr. Crane, your ship doesn’t follow the rules of the community.” When not in use, boats should be out of sight. If you don’t obey the rules, you will be punished.
Oliver
laughed at first. It was hard to notice his yacht because it was so well-covered and immaculate. Three days later, a woman came to his house and told him that there had been a misunderstanding about his yacht.
“Mr. Crane,” she said quickly, holding on to a clipboard. “Margaret Fields, I’m the vice president of the HOA.” People have said they don’t like your boat. It needs to be taken off the dock right away.
frowned. “Taken away? The object is on my dock and doesn’t get in the way of anyone’s view.
Margaret’s voice got rougher. “Rules are rules.” You have ten days to get everything done. If you don’t do it, the HOA will.
Oliver respectfully thanked her, closed the door, and remained there for a moment. After that, he went to his study and got a leather folder. The deed to his farm was within. He smiled as he read the news again. He owned Alderbrook Lake, which is the lake in the image. Years ago, the developer sold the land around the lake so that homes could be erected there. They never gave the lake to anyone else, though. He received the lake and the house. He owned the dock, the water, and the right to fish.
The HOA didn’t know. They had been taking modest amounts of money from the local fishing club, saying that the lake belonged to them. Oliver made the choice not to write a letter. Instead, he would go to the next meeting of the HOA.
The clubhouse was where the meeting took place. There were a lot of foldable chairs in the room, and it smelled like coffee. Margaret was toward the front, next to the other board members. People spoke about everything, from the height of the grass to the color of the mailbox. Margaret then looked up and saw Oliver sitting peacefully in the back.
“Mr. Crane,” she began, “now that you’re here, let’s talk about what you did wrong.” We need to take the dock down. The regulations for the community are easy to grasp.
Oliver got up and spoke in a calm voice. “I think there’s something wrong with the lake.”
Peter, another member of the board, halted him before he could finish. “I don’t have any doubts.” Alderbrook Estates owns the lake, hence the HOA is in charge of it.
Oliver took a piece of paper out of his folder and put it on the table. “This paper says I own the lake.” When the neighborhood was developed, the HOA didn’t get it. I got it when I bought my house. The county’s records support these.
Everyone in the room stopped talking. Margaret’s smile of assurance went disappeared. She read it immediately, and her lips went tight.
Someone in the audience said something. “Does that mean the HOA gets the money we pay for the fishing club even though they don’t own it?”
Oliver nodded. “That’s right.” I let other people use the lake freely because I wanted to be kind, but now that I’ve been instructed to relocate my boat, I might need to think about how the lake is used again.
The whispers started right away. People in the region were scared and looked at each other. Some people thought it was funny. Margaret cleared her throat and added, “We need to check this information.”
“Please do,” Oliver said. I guess you should stop threatening to tow anything you don’t own from land or water till then.
Before he left the meeting, he didn’t say anything else.
The county told the HOA two weeks later that Oliver Crane did own the lake. The board had to say they were sorry and take back their notice. The fishing club wanted their money back. Every time Margaret walked by Oliver’s house, she stopped looking at him.
At the next meeting of the community, Oliver stood in front of everyone. He said, “From now on, the HOA can’t do anything about Alderbrook Lake.” I will keep letting people use the water in a respectful way. Families can fish or kayak as much as they wish. I just want them to be quiet and clean. Don’t leave trash about, don’t make noise after 9 p.m., and don’t use gas engines.
A few of the neighbors clapped softly. A few people lowered their heads in relief. The lake seemed different after that day. It was quiet again when the HOA left it alone. Adults fished in the morning and kids smiled as they paddled little boats. The lake’s water was tranquil and clear.
One night, Oliver saw Margaret on the other side of the river. She looked at the lake and saw the sun setting. She then turned to look at him. She nodded a little to show she understood, and then she departed.
Oliver smiled. He knew he could have used his ownership to strike back at the HOA, but he didn’t want to. He only wanted things to be proper. He understood that being powerful didn’t entail being in charge. It was about understanding what is truly yours and protecting it while others forget.
The boat stayed at his dock, quiet and still, shining in the fading light like a sign of victory.
