This is the story of a significant change in my attitude towards humans and the feeling I have for “friends”. I had felt it coming most of my life, but it was this one incident that really made things plain to me and really clarified what I had been thinking for so long.
Sometime in the turmoil of my life I decided to have a party, a birthday party for myself. I began to plan this thing about two months before it occurred. I have a summer birthday and summer birthday person has a hard time mustering a quorum for a shindig, at least it always did seem that way growing up. School gets out, everyone goes on vacation or to camp, and there is no one around for the birthday party. Birthday parties attended by more relatives than friends, with relatives being five times the age or better than the birthday boy, were common in my growing up years. I always realized that the circumstances of the timing were important to the attendance at the party, but it also caused me some problems mentally when only a couple of kids would come to my childhood party and I would be surrounded by my aunts, grandparents and my mom instead of friends. Friends always had things to do, places to be, and people to see on the birthday party day.
Well, it was going to be the summer of my 26th year of life and I thought that since I had been ready to party for a year and a half, or more, this would a great time to celebrate my liberation and my birthday. I talked about the festive occasion at work, and while I didn’t pass out invitations, I did mention the date, the party, the food, the booze, the , the... to my friends at work, in the lab and at the plant. I tried to mention it to the wives and girlfriends of the friends as well. I talked it up about two months in advance, so my friends would put it in the mill maybe mark it on a calendar and plan around it. There was positive response from all the people at the first mention. They checked calendars and looked down the road and gave it a firm thumbs up with nothing looming on the horizon during the months of planning and talking about it. I went on to mention this birthday blowout to the people whom I had known since childhood and since high school, who were still around the area. I mentioned it several times to as many of these people as I could find. I invited one and all personally to the party on June 24th , which was a Saturday, a perfect day for a party: there was time for recovery from the night before and time to recover after prior to work on Monday. This was part of my conversations with everyone I talked with for those two months and everyone seemed excited about the big party. My lady invited her circle of friends from the college and they were all thinking of having the blast of the century at the party. Outside friends from college and other activities were all invited: several times invited. Asked if they could make it; asked if they planned to attend so I could get a sense of how many to plan for: I had all affirmatives from one and all. I started in April planning for a June 24th party, inviting and talking about the party with my friends, associates, perceived friends and friends of friends. This was going to be great. Once every seven years, or so, does the birthday arrive on a Saturday and this was it, my 26th birthday, and I was on top of it with the party.
I lived in a house out in the country on Kiernan Rd and Bangs in a walnut orchard, outside the town about three miles, where things could get wild and loud if that was the inclination of those who came to party. People knew that for the most part: a party house. I knew the potential for the party and lay in supplies of the leafy herb, the brew of the hops, and wine by case. I started to accumulate the ribs for the barbeque while they were on sale and put them in the freezer wedging the meat in as best I could. I began to figure out the menu and the things needed for the party. My guest list was 28 people whom I invited directly and repeatedly and tried to get assurances from and had heard a positive verbally response. There were about 15 to 20 others indirectly invited because of association or because of the once only invitation. I figured that I would count on 25 solid people, be prepared for 30 and be ready for more with run to the store. I was providing all food and drink, so it would be simple to attend. I lay in all the supplies for entertaining 30 to 50 people easily before the party was even two weeks away.
On the day of the party, my birthday, I got up early to begin, or continue, the prep. I had prepared the won tons and falafels ahead of time for warming in the oven. The dipping sauces for won tons, falafels, chips and other munchies, I prepared that early morning, sweet and sour,
I cleaned the house a bit and got out a couple of records for the party by early morning. I also called some of the partygoers to see if they could bring their records of choice and make sure they were still in the mood and coming. My cake had been baked, by me, the night before and so I frosted it and decorated it with “Happy Birthday” using a rolled up dishtowel and a metal straw as my decorating tools. It came out pretty good and I got to lick out the frosting bowl myself.
While I prepped the food in the early morning, a friend called up and said that he had got his boat together and he and his wife were heading for the reservoir for the trial run. He might call a couple of other friends, also invited to the party, to go and maybe get another one of the boat owners to get his boat out on the lake for the first time this summer. They would be back to rock the night for the party... He wanted to know if I might need something when they came back in from the reservoir and to tell me there might be a couple of other people with them. While removing the ribs later in the morning from slow cooking in the oven another friend called and said that the alarm had gone off at the plant and he would be late getting to the party and to save him some stuff if the problem was bad. His lady would come when he did. I worked on.
At noon my roommate, my love, my lady of my life, said she would be back about 2:00. She had to go to the campus nursery and deal with the plants. So she left leaving me alone to finish the chores of preparing for my party which I had well in hand. I prepared the corn and got the ribs ready before for the grill. The ribs were done slow cooking in the oven and were stacked in mounds on the drain board under sheets of plastic wrap. The bread, a French twist, which has an egg base and lots of saffron making it brightly yellow and rich, was ready for baking so that got popped into the oven. The cake sat on a plate proudly in the dinning room. The home made salsa was in the covered bowls ready for early arrivals expected around 3:00, the chips mounded in bowls surrounding the Mexican sauces. The house was clean, the lawn mowed, and the barbecue ready to light with an extra bag of briquettes standing by just incase. I pushed my pickup truck into the garage to give extra parking space. The truck had been broken down for six months and I thought that the room would be needed for the partygoers to park their cars that actually ran. I then hosed down the rock driveway so the dust would be cut down and not get on the food being cooked outside. I set a sprinkler in the front, under the huge 75 year old walnut tree, to cool the lawn freshly mowed. Then I spray water into the tree branches and leaves to aid with evaporative cooling, giving the front shaded area of the house a very green cool respite for party goers who arrived while the sun was high. I got the vegetables from the garden for the salad and for munching. I tore up the lettuces and set the newly picked tomatoes in the frig to cool. The summer squash were washed and the French-fried potatoe water was changed to remove the starchy taste and let the sugar continue converting. The dishes, which were a heavy paper plate, were set out, as were the napkins and the plastic forks. All of the kitchen utensil and dishes that had been used so far were cleaned up.
One of the party goers called about 1:00 while I was in the midst of this preparation and said, he an his bro had got a pair of tickets for a concert in the city and they were sorry to miss the bash, but they were heading for San Fran and would toke a load for me at the concert. Another friend called shortly after that and said that he was just waking up and wanted to know when the party started. Their party Friday night was a killer and everyone was still plastered or recovering, but he was sure that they would be out, but probably later not earlier.
O.K. things were shaping up. The food was in place, the house set up, the entertainment procured, the guest list looking good. I was a bit worried because I had formally invited so many people and informally invited many more and it could have gotten out of hand. My grandmother always said when entertaining more is better. Plan for the maximum number of people as if they were all very hungry and then add some. Well, I thought that 25 -30 was a good number, but it could go higher so I planned for about 40 hungry people with plans to make a run to the store if it got bigger. Beer was moved from the refirg in the basement to the main frig and to an ice chest, the red wine was set out with the cork extractor, the white wine was chilled in the frig. By 2:00 I was getting the mental list in my head of what was needed and when it needed to be done. I also started to sample the wine about then and maybe just a taste from the baggy.
People were asked to arrive any time after 3:00, but that I would plan to have food ready to serve about 5:00. Since barbecue is a production piece, a form of entertainment as well as sustenance, it needs to be experience to be appreciated by the party goers who could hear the sizzle, smell the ribs and corn and pick off the small pieces right from the grill. The barbeque should be fired up after some of the guest arrived so they could experience the whole ritual from fire starting to the many aspects of the manly art of cooking outside and experience the whole male food making ceremony. I began the second loaf of bread in the oven about 2:30 since I would need the oven for the corn and to heat the won tons, and the bean dip later after things got going. While the bread baked, filling the house with that warmth not needed in the heat of summer (but the smell of bread warms the soul), I took some of the fresh picked Boysenberries and washed them, dried half the batch for fresh boysenberries for eating and added the rest to the boysenberry sauce for the ice cream giving this syrup some actual fresh berries. I also cut up the Fay Alberta Freestone peaches I had just picked that morning in the orchard across the street and sprinkled a bit of sugar over them to bring out the juices and make a sauce for the ice cream or the cake if people weren’t into the berries.
By 3:00 there was a frenzy to my preparation. As the host, I needed to prep as much as I could so that I could keep the flow of food coming and not appear like just the hired help at the party. I took the Ice cream from the freezer and took out the ice for the cranker. Five quarts of ice cream would never set up in three hours, but it sure cools it down to be in the freezer and makes the hand cranking very quick. I turned the ice cream maker while I went over, in my mind, the food, the order of cooking and of serving, the presentation of each dish, and the timing needed to release the finished product to the guests. About 3:30 I was expecting some of the guest to arrive and to help with a few of the tasks; early arrivals are usually nervous and need something to connect them to the party and to the host. The ice cream got done very quickly so I pour off the salt water and packed the hand freezer with lots of salt and fresh ice to keep it cold. That is when I got the call from my wonderful lady. The work at the nursery had gone well and she had gone over to the Mexican restaurant near the college and hoisted a few brew with some friends. One of the Whalers, the group of about 12 college friends of my lady that were coming to the party, got a bit too much and had to be driven home. All the whalers were part of the invited. (Whalers were the followers of Mr. Whaley a forestry teacher). I was peeking, on wine, and excitement. They would be just a while longer, did I need anything when they came over?
Well, 3:45 came and went and I hosed down the driveway again to prevent the dust from happening on the food. The salad was put together without the dressing and the corn was put into the oven to prepare for the cooking on the grill. The bread had been removed and painted with the egg whites that give it the crust and the glisten brown shiny color. My won tons were placed in the oven to heat and the sauces for the ice cream were removed to the refrig. Chocolate sauce was prepared, but not heated and finished.
At 4:00 I got a call from a relative that will remain unnamed who said that he had forgotten and that he was trying to get it together to get there. I said cool that no one was there yet, but the fire was about to be started and the food cooked so get here. I felt compelled to light the fire so I did. I added a bunch more briquettes for the longer cooking time. I went in and started heating the oil for the fries. When it was hot I started the French fry’s batch after batch, keeping them warm in the oven that was heating the corn on the cob so it was nearly cooked and could be finished in a minute on the grill to give it a smoky taste.
At 4:45 I decided to put on the first grill of ribs and a few of the corns.
By 5:30 the first bath of ribs were done and the next was going on with much of the corn. The smell was party like and I was now very excited. Many of my guests worked until 4:30 or 5:00 so they would be arriving about now. The people from the lake would be showing up shortly and the crowd would begin to be out of control.
By 6:30 the barbeque had died out pretty much and the corn was smoked and done, the ribs were perfect, the fries getting dry, the salad wilting and I found a fly in the salsa (which I just picked out and left the bowl for the late comers to experience as a punishment). I wasn’t doing real well because I had worked like a slave for the last three hours and was now beginning to relax. It was tough to relax when so many were expected and they were minutes away from arriving now all at once it seemed.
At 7:30 the guy who worked at the plant call called to say it would be late if at all when he got there. I think I still said great, see you when you get here, there is plenty of food and we’ll save you some. I changed the music, had another glass of wine and puttered around.
About 8:30 the shadows of the orchard had spread across the yard and now it was twilight on a summer evening. One of the boaters swung by to say that the day was the best and his friends, my friends and invited guest, had had skiing. He said the others, his wife, kids, and the other couples who went with them, (and were invited guests), were at his house getting ready to clean up the boats, and then come on by later. Maybe I could swing by his house later if they didn’t make it to my party. The boats would be there being cleaned and they had picked up some cases of beer to help loosen the dirt.
My lady called right after the boater left and said that when the crew brought the whalers home, someone had bought a case of beer and called some friends. There was a party going on there and they wanted to know if one of the parties could be moved, along with the food and drink, preferably to their house since they were too drunk to drive. The whalers were partying down with drunken friends. I didn’t think I could bring food for 30 on my bicycle since my truck was not working and there was no other transportation at the house.
Around 9:00 PM when the sun was setting for real and I had eaten enough ribs for a platoon of soldiers, had consumed tankard of wine, toked a load of herb, I felt it must be time for dessert. I took the cake, cut a piece from the middle and poured in some of the homemade ice cream in the hole and ate it with my fingers. Who was there to reprimand me? I was alone.
This was a truly surprise party. No one showed up. At one point I thought about the surprise party idea and thought that there was some party that I would get to and everyone would jump out and say, “Surprise!” I thought everyone would drive up together and yell , “Surprise!” I thought they might come out of the orchard and yell, “Surprise!”... But the surprise was, no one came. Not a scant turn out: NO ONE. Not a light turnout: NO ONE. Nobody, not a soul, no friend, no relative, no enemy, no body.
There was a party at the boat owner’s house, about 25 people there. There was a party at the Whalers, about 20 people. There was a party at my bros. house with about 20 people. There were people at a concert, and people at work. There were people who forgot and people who had reasons for not coming to the party. Bottom line is that, surprise! I gave a party and nobody came. A party for myself, a party for my friends, a party for the season, a party to celebrate freedom. Free at last, free at last. Free to be me because that was all there was: alone with myself.
About 10:30 or so I figured out that friendship was something I didn’t understand. I also devised the plan that I would begin to seek living where
What are the odds that the world would conspire to cause a person to have a party that no one attended? Has that happened before? I guess if the person is an oaf, a bore, a dweeb, a real out-there kind of a person with bad hygiene or something then people might shy away, but they might say something up front and indicate that they are not intending to come. Does a person bring this on themselves? Does a person drive all the other people away? I always considered myself a kind of normal sort of person, caring and considerate of others, but this kind of thing seems to happen more often than just this once. Two people or a small group of people showing up can commiserate on the problem of a low turn out at a party, but when there is one, it is not easy to share the pain. I was not hurt. I was crucified, dead and buried mentally. But I rose from the dead eventually and I decided that if I put myself in a position to be crucified, then there was the distinct possibility that I would be crucified. My life changed that night alone eating food for 30 and not even lighting the candles on my own birthday cake that I made for myself. Twenty-six years of living and working in the same town all my life and I couldn’t even get one person to come to a party for me, my own party, my birthday party. In the days after my party I don’t think anyone even asked me about my birthday party so I never really told anyone the story of what happened. The gods showed me that there is only me and me alone, all alone.
Ever give a party and are afraid that no one will show up? Be afraid!
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