One of my favorite authors dedicated a book to the students of my grad school by noting that they had more dollars than sense. They also had pizzaz and hosted some of the best parties you could imagine. One might think that hosting dinners would have been all the rage being an Ivy League school. But not in my generation; they were all dance-crazed types who couldn’t keep it penned in and were interested in raising a ruckus. The food was snacky stuff and not too good a quality. The rule was lots of beer and crazed dancing intermixed with intense conversations. Parties could last almost till dawn, and people were known to sink into inebriation, get sober during hours of dance, and fall back into intoxication by four AM.
By contrast, a young woman with aspirations introduced me to the world of aperitifs, hors d’oeuvres, and seating arrangements. I learned a bit about the correct wines and proper stemware to use. The other day I found a pair of small, handblown glass snifters. All that was left of the pretensions of that bygone time, when I left grad school and emerged into a new poverty, she became uncertain. And when I retreated to trade employment, I became unsuitable. I reverted to sailing with folks who held their coffee in their whole hand, eschewed the use of cup handles, and to whom seating placement meant who could get a good seat at the table first.
My wife and I are thinking of hosting a get-together this fall. we’ll invite some of the newer interesting neighbors, old friends, and dojo mates from our martial arts days. But it won’t be a sit-down dinner. It’ll be the pop-up pavilion in the yard, both fire pits raging and lots of easy food on the dining room table. Nothing newfangled or gimmicky, no crystal, and no quick and easy invitations to drunkenness; if it gets chilly, we’ll move in to sit by the wood stove, play guitar and tell stories. Being older, I doubt the get-together will last later than eleven, which will be fine.
No howling at the full moon.
Sounds wonderful! And I suspect there will be at least one moon-howl after the party is over, just for old times’ sake.👍
Maybe…I just can’t rule that out!
😉👍
get a giant boiler pot, fill it with cheap beer and an entire flat of mushrooms… steam them over the fire… throw boxes of toothpicks on the picnic table and have at em… to die for…
You are right, simple beat over thought all the time…but that may just be the people we hang out with.
I asked my friends here what were the odds of my hosting a sit-down dinner. One of them said, “51 to 1” which I thought was a really interesting number.
One does wonder how they came up with 51. Just for fun I checked and it is nit a prime number, so what gives with the 51? Evidently, 51 is a special number in Angelic numerology which symbolizes change…so perhaps they are trying to tell you something. What gives, Martha?
I don’t think so, knowing them. I think my friend Bob was afraid to go with 50/50. But if you’re right, they probably want to come over for dinner. They’ve had me over for Christmas and Thanksgiving more than once.
I’ve been thinking about what you wrote about Long Covid and rediscovering yourself along with discovering who you are now (if I got that right). That really struck a chord with me.
Oh my goodness, the days of partying until dawn! I still want to party, just not until dawn. I want to start at around 4pm and be in bed by 11pm. 🤣🤣🤣
Sigh…don’t we all…the old days are gone.