The Joy of a Party without Obligation
I have 20 first cousins. Growing up, it felt like there was a birthday party at an aunt’s house every weekend. From these frequent gatherings came laughs and family legends, like the infamous “slow down” story, which could only be remembered because we were constantly at family parties where it happened so often.
A brief recap: At any party, the Donatelli boys could be found by the snacks. It wasn’t a family get-together for me and my brothers until we were inhaling Doritos and M&Ms and my dad gritted his teeth and said, “Slow. Down.” My brothers and I still say this to each other where snacks are present. Oh, are those good? Are you enjoying that? SLOW. DOWN.
When we moved back to Cleveland a couple years ago, I figured we’d be invited to lots of family parties. Except, we weren’t. And the reason we weren’t is because my cousins are like 54 years old now, and normal people don’t throw parties when they turn 54. The Birthday Party Every Weekend Era of our family was long over. I don’t know what I was expecting. There have been parties – for Christmas, and graduations, for example – and they were nice. What I did not anticipate happening was that instead of parties the cold hand of time would introduce another social gathering to the mix – funerals. Over the last few years, there were some relatives I mainly saw because someone died.
There is a feeling that comes when someone you love passes away. I’m not talking about the despair of being reminded we all stand on a conveyor belt that ends with us tumbling into the grave. I’m talking about the restless energy that comes with knowing you still have days left and the feeling of, “How can I not waste this?”
It was at a funeral that I decided to throw a big family party.
My dad’s side of the family used to have a giant Labor Day Weekend party – “The Antonelli Picnic.” There was pasta and meatballs and sausage and bocce and old men arguing with each other in broken English and kids playing volleyball and a large plot of land with a vineyard that you needed a golf cart to navigate – but only the older cousins could drive the golf cart (unless no one was looking). They were good childhood memories with cousins and aunts and uncles and older relatives who could still speak-a The Italian.
I cannot recreate that. Our family is now mainly adults, most of whom have proper elocution. I don’t own land so vast that it requires a small, motorized vehicle to traverse. It will never be what it was. But it could be … something.
With the help of my wife Jen (who should be sainted for marrying me and supporting my schemes), we planned what turned out to be a 70-person potluck gathering at a lakeside park near our home.
This is the part where my inner Erma Bombeck is dying to tell you about all the things that stressed me out. I could dwell on the guests who showed up way before the party’s scheduled start time while I looked like Pigpen from The Peanuts (you could see my stink lines), and how the place where I got the pans of chicken acted like they’d never met a live customer before, and how I spent so much money on drinks and supplies at Costco that the manager of the store saw me and personally assisted me at the checkout, or that it rained at the end of the party. But I won’t dwell on those things because the truth is all the stuff that goes sideways with a party is also what makes it kind of great. The early guests were super helpful. I showered away the stink lines. The chicken was great. The rain was courteous enough to wait until most guests had left.
For several hours on a beautiful Sunday in July, we had my favorite kind of party, which is a party for the sake of having a party – a party without obligation. I love a party without obligation. Where you don’t have to buy a card. You don’t have to get a gift. You don’t have to dress up. You don’t have to say a few words to someone because that person is why you’re there. You don’t have to listen to anyone make a speech. Yes, the potluck was a small obligation, but it was optional, and I knew everyone in our family would offer to bring something anyway, so the nature of the party pre-answered the inevitable question I knew we’d get and made everyone feel useful. (See how I spun asking other people to do stuff for me as a gift I gave to them? In an alternate universe, I work in PR.)
Back when I lived in Los Angeles, I lucked into making a great friend (hi, Mike) who had a house in the hills and invited me to live there. We were single and in our 30s, and we threw many parties for no reason at all other than to hang out with our friends while drinking light domestic beverages and liquors with pirate logos. There was music, and food, and bocce (again with the bocce – can you tell I’m Italian?), and jokes, and actors, writers, musicians and comedians, impromptu roasts, dogs running about, and lots of laughs. One party ended around 6 AM with us rolling pumpkins down the street. In January. It’s hard to explain now, but at that time we just felt like it was the right thing to do. They are treasured memories, and they only happened because Mike and I activated “Let’s throw a party for the heck of it” mode at his house.
A party without obligation (PWO), I believe, sets the table for the possibility of more memorable moments than a party of obligation (POO). A POO sort of has a set template. You’ve done it before. A PWO cracks the door open for moments. You’re free of expectation. You determine the course of the party. It’s yours to shape. A lampshade is also a hat. A pumpkin is an object that by its very nature demands to be rolled.
Our potluck didn’t have big moments, but it had moments that would not have happened had we not gathered for no reason at all. I’m thinking now of my young cousin who saved our bacon when she showed up early and volunteered to do everything my wife and I were too busy to do (we later sent her home with as much pizza and beer as she could carry), the conversations I had with my family members who are super inappropriate and make me laugh, my dad and his sisters getting a “funeral board photo” (their joke, not mine, but I respect it), the unreasonably large cassata cake it took two of us to carry in, singing happy birthday to all the summer birthdays (among them my 75-year-old parents) and telling anyone born in May to stay away from the cake because SUMMER BIRTHDAYS ONLY, seeing my 8-year-old son playing bocce with one of my older cousins who was a “cool” older cousin when I was little and is still a cool guy, and other little moments that nourish the soul.
You know it’s a good time when you look at your watch, grit your teeth and say, SLOW DOWN.
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We used to have such parties, or “reunions”, in my dad’s family over 4th of July weekend when there was an extra day off so our MI cousins could make the trip. It was a “reunion”, originally, of my Grandmother and her 6 siblings and all their kids. By the time we were going and building memories it was close to 100 people who pretty much all made an appearance, and was held on my Uncle’s property in Medina of about 3 acres and a 1.5 acre pond in the back. The pond was stocked with fish for fishing, so little kids were either competing in the fishing derby, or braving the mucky, murky depths (all of maybe 5.5 ft) to splash around and be fools. When we were young there were games for the kids and volleyball for the early 20’s. It was bring a dish and/or dessert, so everybody brought both to “WOW” sisters and in-laws and cousins and moms and dads alike. My dad’s uncles played bocce (I know!! How DARE the Irish bastards!!) and my dad and his brothers horseshoe. Now a day, there are just TOO MANY of us. In my mind, I’d like to have that sort of a get together as a Celebration of my Mom’s life later in September around my parents anniversary. Her biggest dream was to have a house large enough on enough land to celebrate with all her loved ones and friends for no other reason than because we can. She doesn’t want my dad and brother to spend a lot of money, but I think we have a way around it, so we’ll see.
This is awesome. And I’m definitely having a Labor Day party now.