There’s something quietly noble about a group of neighbors coming together in the name of community. The Snug Harbor Civic League has, for years, represented just that—an organized effort to bring cohesion, connection, and purpose to a neighborhood that, like so many others, has weathered social shifts, generational turnover, and declining civic participation. To that effort, I say: bravo.
Their commitment is real. Their time is volunteer. Their work is thankless more often than not. Just recently, the Civic League rolled out a new list of upcoming events, and for a brief moment, it felt like things might be changing—maybe even picking up steam. A game night here, a seasonal get-together there. The calendar is alive. The intent is there.
But then reality returns.
The first game night—attended by only 11 people, most of them Civic League members themselves—felt more like a club meeting than a community event. And sadly, this is not an isolated instance. These events, however well-meaning, have become echoes in a room that fewer and fewer people are entering. The same types of gatherings. The same attendees. The same lack of broader interest.
So here’s the uncomfortable question: At what point does the effort stop being productive and start being performative?
This isn’t about assigning blame. It’s about recognizing a reality. We are not the same neighborhood we were 10, 15, or 20 years ago. People are busier. Engagement is digital. Social bonds are no longer forged in community centers and bingo nights. What once made sense might no longer serve the moment. And clinging to tradition for tradition’s sake might actually be standing in the way of progress—or at least, relevance.
And let’s not ignore the elephant in the room: The Snug Harbor Property Owners Association wouldn’t have to rely on funding from the Civic League at all if they hadn’t mismanaged the money collected through yearly assessments. That’s a hard truth, but it needs to be said. Civic League funds were never intended to fill the gaps caused by poor financial oversight. The burden of keeping the neighborhood afloat—financially or otherwise—should not fall on a small group of volunteers scrambling to host under-attended events while also being asked to bail out larger systemic problems.
So yes, let’s applaud the Snug Harbor Civic League for everything they’ve done. Let’s recognize the heart, the hours, the intentions. But let’s also be brave enough to stop pretending. The mission is worthy, but the model is outdated. If change can’t come, maybe rest should.
Sometimes, letting something fade is not failure—it’s clarity. It’s permission to reimagine new ways of connection. It’s space for a new generation to create something different, not necessarily better or worse, but simply more in tune with today’s reality.
And if something new rises in its place? Even better.
Until then, thank you, Civic League. You’ve done more than your share.
But maybe it’s time.