Maplewood has an epidemic flu that no vaccine has been invented to cure: property taxes. Mention that phrase anywhere in New Jersey and specifically in Essex County and you have pressed on a kind of primal scream button.

When I first moved from Brooklyn three years ago, I knew the numbers were outrageous—I just didn't know they would continue to fly into the stratosphere. Everywhere I turned, even the most even-tempered Maplewoodian flew into a rage when the subject was property taxes.

All of us have had or soon will have the reval people enter our homes. Ostensibly this is to reset the taxes so everyone pays their fair share. Fear and trembling have set loose in this pastoral community causing sleepless nights, finger pointing, nerves on edge, and people facing down that there is a huge hole being torn into the fabric of this great community.

Three years ago all the real estate agents used the word community and I thought it was a mere selling tool to finalize a deal. Used especially to convert urbanites to the virtues of small town life.

Well, it didn't take long for me to see community in action.

In my first year I was running late from New York to pick up my daughter at pre-school. I called a neighbor in a panic. This woman assured me that it was no problem to pick up my girls and they could play with her kids until I got home. As this unlucky day kept rolling along my train out of Hoboken was 25 minutes late. When I finally arrived at my neighbor's house I was extremely apologetic. She said non-chalantly that she was enjoying playing with all the kids in the back yard.

Another story: last winter when one of the blizzards came roaring through this town, I heard the sounds of a motor in my driveway. It was my next-door neighbor snow plowing our property. When I flagged him down to thank him he responded, "It was fun putting the motor back together. I wasn't sure it was going to work."

Story three: Just last week I was at the town pool when my five and a half year olds sped into the women's' room to change into their street clothes. In the few odd minutes I waited for them, three separate women asked me if I needed any help.

Community—how else to explain such selfless behavior.

The tax reval has put a damper on this idea as many families are at their wits end and can't afford to pay the township another dime.

Our elected leaders at the town, school district and county seem to be like out-of-control teenagers with a credit card. More, more, more. There's no political will to stop this. The left blames the governor's tax cuts; the right blames the teachers union. Each side is so imbued with the rightness of their opinions that nothing gets done about the problem.

Meanwhile the sands of time are running out for the homeowners. We are like the Oakies in Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath" in that an impersonal entity has come to repossess our land. With the taxes, it feels that, in fact, we never owned these properties but merely leased them from the township. And like "The Grapes of Wrath," no one knows whom to blame:  Is it the banks? The state? The township? The reval company? The governor? The teachers union? What about the firemen and police? Newark? The national economy? The local economy? The fact that summer has followed spring?

It all spins a woeful tale animated by fear, greed, and terribly inept political management without any political will.

Lyndon Johnson said, upon signing the 1965 Medicare law into effect, that he aimed to use the might of the presidency to give "a measure of serenity to the fearful." One could do a lot worse things with political muscle.

Is there a person with the political will and clout to offer this measure to the taxpayers of Maplewood?

Brian Mecca is a facility supervisor at NYU's Department of Athletics. He has lived in Maplewood for three years.