What do you do to be involved in the community?

Most people hear “community involvement” and immediately picture volunteer luncheons, matching T-shirts, somebody aggressively clapping at a fundraiser while a local insurance agent wins a crockpot in a raffle. That whole small-town pageant of forced cheerfulness. I’m not built for it. Never was.

Truth is, I don’t do as much as I probably should. Or could. I work for Senior Services of Belmont County driving a nutrition truck. Meals on Wheels, basically. I load up food every morning, drive all over the county, and hand meals to people who actually need them. Some days I’m the only person they’ll see. That part sticks with you whether you admit it or not.

And honestly? That counts. More than people realize.

We’ve somehow turned “being involved in the community” into a performance. Everybody posting selfies at charity events like they’re running for mayor of a town with three stoplights and a vape shop. Meanwhile there are old people sitting alone waiting for someone to knock on the door with lunch and five minutes of conversation. That’s real life. That matters more than another Facebook frame saying “Support Local.”

I keep to myself outside of work. I’m not in clubs. I’m not organizing pancake breakfasts at the fire hall. I’m not standing in a church basement arguing over raffle baskets wrapped in cellophane like civilization depends on a Longaberger basket full of microwave popcorn. Human beings somehow made community service feel like mandatory corporate team building. Incredible achievement there.

But driving that truck every day does something to your perspective. You see people who worked their whole lives ending up alone. You see veterans. Widows. Guys who probably spent forty years in steel mills and now move slower than the clock in a DMV waiting room. They’re grateful for a hot meal and somebody remembering they exist. That hits harder than most motivational speeches people repost online while ignoring their own neighbors.

I like my job. Not every second of it, because I’m still employed on Earth and not floating peacefully through space avoiding paperwork. But it feels useful. There’s value in doing something practical. No hashtags needed. No audience. Just showing up consistently. Most people underestimate how rare that actually is.

Could I do more? Probably. Everybody probably could. But I think there’s something honest about admitting you’re not trying to become the “pillar of the community.” Some of us are just trying to do one decent thing every day without turning it into a personality brand.

And maybe that’s enough.