“If you want my advice” … is a dangerous way to start a sentence. People rarely want it, although not everyone flees when your personal wisdom dispenser is activated.

The best counsel I’ve heard about advice is to offer it only when requested. That will open up months or years of free time while you wait.

It’s not exactly true that people never want advice, but what they really want is a tip about a good, honest mechanic, or the best sushi within 10 miles. Hardly ever do they seek sage thoughts about how to live their lives.

My grown children tighten their faces and commence rolling their eyes when I can’t stop myself from blurting out truisms like “Save for retirement!” or “Never buy extended warranties!” I have to say it fast because they quickly interrupt, “I know, I know. You said it before.”

It might go:

Me: “Save for …”

Them: “retirement.”

I prefer to finish my own sentences. But like all parents, I know that truth bears repeating. As I grow older, so do worn jokes and long stories. After reading a book about the Battle of Dunkirk I may have shared the details of that fateful moment one too many times. Why this became a family joke is beyond me and I honestly believe we have more to discuss about the curious decision to attempt to finish off the British Expeditionary Force with the Luftwaffe. (Perhaps at the next holiday gathering.)

I have learned a fair amount in seven or so decades on this Earth, but I have doubted myself at crucial moments or I might be rich and famous. (Unlikely.) It is easier to dispense advice than to follow your own. All the roads not taken add up, and so we are where we are and it is what it is, if you follow my drift.

All that said, I have had some thoughts lately that seem to come close to crossing the line into advice.

The first, I think, comes in the form of wondering. What would happen, I’ve thought, if the Hartford School Board simply apologized for its handling of events that led to paying two superintendent salaries in a very bad budget year. Being on a school board is community service, often unrewarded. But that does not shield its members from criticism.

What if they admitted that “mistakes were made” or “we blew it” and explained that contractually, there is no way out now. I suspect that is true.

Defensive non-responses to outraged residents aren’t getting anyone anywhere. They are being second-guessed. And third-guessed, and so on.

In decades of watching school boards, I’ve seen several such standoffs. The board digs in. Residents stew. Lawyers are paid. Time takes care of it, but only after a long period of bad feelings.

I wonder if an apology — sincere — would let the healing begin.

I am not a Hartford resident, but I am a longtime taxpayer in Lebanon, where city officials have projected that the municipal portion of property taxes could rise about 12% annually for the next four years. To summarize my reaction as succinctly as possible: Yikes!

Don’t do that, I advise. I may offer specifics later. But I’m surprised there hasn’t been a run on pitchforks and flaming torches at the Outraged Citizens Supply Store (it’s behind the old JCPenney — you can’t miss it).

Also in Lebanon, a developer is proposing to build nearly 500 apartments in the old Densmore brickyard near Lebanon High School and Hanover Street School. Again, succinctly: Gulp!

The only unasked-for advice I can offer is for residents to make their voices heard. No, really. Posting on Facebook or Listservs is not a substitute for the hard work of civic engagement. Attending public meetings is not for the faint of heart. Rules and regulations and legal talk are clear as mud. Or fine print written in mud.

As a young reporter I attended meetings at which I could feel my life force bleeding out as my pen scribbled notes on a legal pad. But a project that could bring 1,000-plus new residents here deserves attention. I know the Upper Valley needs more homes, but so many? In that location? Will we need flying buses to get kids to school?

We shall see what happens. Meantime, on this very day I may be going to the Tunbridge World’s Fair, where I admire the skills and labors of many people who do not need any bit of my advice in any fashion. There I will observe blue-ribbon people among massive pumpkins, radiant pigs and sunflowers that reach toward the sky. All I can say is well done and carry on!

Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.