I belong to a neighborhood parents’ association here in Atlanta, which has an e-blast — and it lives up to its name.

I get between 20 to 50 emails a day, on an absurdly wide range of topics. Some are helpful: they offer babysitting/nanny contacts, housing listings, and contractor suggestions.

Others sell items, from outgrown kiddie clothes to furniture to dirt — yes, dirt — extra top soil that the emailer said would work great in a garden.

Lots include rants. People complain about vandalism (irritating, yes, but nothing compared to London); drivers who speed (the emailers love to name and shame — and report offenders to the police); package thefts; salaries of police officers (according to one email, pay was cut recently, much to the author’s dismay); noise levels; and all sorts of others.

They fascinate me. I’ve never been a part of a community before that likes to share its personal issues with hundreds of neighbors and strangers.

A man looking to sell an extra single bed mentioned in the email that he had bought it for his mother-in-law’s visit — then went on to make a jab about her.

A mother wanted to share that her young child cried a lot during “Marley & Me.” She didn’t want other children to be similarly traumatized.

A noble concern. But I marvel at how much time these parents, who must be very busy, take to give hints to people they’ve never met.

The unsolicited advice isn’t always helpful — but it’s sometimes amusing — so it’s always worth a read. Plus, it makes me feel popular to have up to 50 emails a day.

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