A DINNER PARTY MID LIFE CRISIS STYLE

A DINNER PARTY MID-LIFE CRISIS STYLE ( A LEGACY STORY )

I found myself in our state's capitol city renting an apartment to advance a career change. It was about a three hour drive from home and it allowed me to "express myself" as never before. I know I have a lot of company when I say that I was one of those folks who hit their forties and realized they'd gone from home to college to marriage to middle age and never felt they'd "found themselves". I had just spent a year working and getting myself situated when I found "the" apartment and it was so close to work and my friends who lived there were moving on to another state.

Renting the apartment was so liberating as I suddenly found my self in a place that didn't possess one stick of furniture, one window covering and could use some decorating from the bland walls that were the canvas. Until I came the landlords wouldn't let anyone touch their palomino beige decor, but I am nothing if not gifted with the gift of persuasion.

I brought just a few things from home that I couldn't live without, like art pieces my husband happily carried to the car for me. My mind was abuzz with all the wonderful things I planned to do. This apartment was in the historic district and had original woodwork unpainted throughout, a brick fireplace, built in china hutch with serving buffet and mirror backing on top with ornate wood trim. The hutches with the original lead glass doors also had drawers below and all of the orginal hardware. Then there were the huge bay windows in both the living room and dining room. Other windows rose dramatically to fill the walls of the 14 foot ceilings in every room.

The building was on the national historic register and the outside blonde brick was as impressive as when it was built. The unique outside entry doors were chosen to be on a beautiful print of the prominent doors in that city. The very door I entered to go to my second floor apartment was the one selected for our building. It was a beautiful rounded arch of carved leaves and grasses made of what appeared to be some kind of soft stone. I loved walking up the stone stairs now slightly smooth with wear and entering through the arched doors into the marble foyer. I just loved everything about the building and the apartment.

The apartment and I were definitely a contrast. It represented tradition, formality, graceful lines and grand accomodations in space and light. I was more "from the wrong side of the tracks in childhood and struggling working class most of my life." Renting this apartment was definitely a "gift I gave myself".

I worked with the homeless and worked to help people get into drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs and my thrill in life was people. Knowing them and being accepted by them. Not just the people I worked with but everyone. The dis-infranchised were my favorites.This trait was a carry over from childhood and I felt I'd met my kindred spirit when I learned about Will Rogers. He said it all, my philosophy down to the inth degree. "I never met a man I didn't like". Well, I modified it some because there were some folks I didn't really like that much, but at that point in my life, I hadn't found anyone I couldn't love.

Love and like are different. I believed you can love everyone for who they are, or were or even could have been if................ . I also feel you can love someone and not like them. This isn't and wasn't the popular view in my family, but it was instilled in me so rigidly before I even started grade school so I have come to believe it was genetic. A very dear psychiatrist friend of mine who used to work with me when I worked in mental health housing said he'd never met anyone who'd had such a love and investment in the welfare of others at such a young age. Stories I'd shared with him moved him to say that it was truly a unique person who is given such a gift of caring. And a huge burden to learn to balance.

What does this have to do with the dinner party you may be asking? Well, I am just laying ground work for that. It will help you understand some true dynamics that took place that night.

I worked hard to get the apartment in shape. I had a passionate love affair going on with this place and as it turns out so did everyone who came to see it. When they stayed as guests they expressed feeling they had been away at a retreat from the world and always left refreshed.

It was unique from the front entry hall which spanned the entire length of the apartment providing entries into every room. Upon entering to the right was a huge sunny room just off the living room that I converted to my bedroom .

The very large living room still had operational original sliding pocket doors. The commanding fire place was nestled between huge windows and a large bay window overlooking the downtown skyline abutted that wall.

The formal dining room with all of it's original wood plate rails intermittantly intercepting wood bands to the original hardwood floor were on all three walls. The fourth wall was a huge bay window. Across from the arch connecting the formal dining room and living room was the wall with the built in lead glass hutches and serving buffet.

Back into the common hallway was the doorway into the kitchen whose original cabinets reached from counter top to the top of the high ceilings. The original sink was one I had seen before in my youth in the forties in the house we lived in.The back door of the kitchen opened onto a small wooden porch with stairs running up and down as a fire escape. It was so prevalent in my childhood to see pictures of these types of stairs in neighborhoods in the east and Chicago where families gathered and kids played.. I loved bar-b-queing there with a small table and chairs to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

Back again in the common hall were transom doors opening to two more bedrooms and the bathroom of my dreams. No not a modern spacious bathroom with a jacuzzi and tile and mirrors but rather a bathroom with victorian lighting, old white and black octagan floor tiles and a frosted textured glass window . The most important feature was the deepest victorian legged bath tub I have ever been in. The wainscoating and walls were white.

Out in the common hallway just outside of the bathroom was a long beautifuly preserved set of cupboards which also served as a huge linen closet. They were eight feet high and had beautiful tall pantry style doors which divided the unit into four areas of service. Above the cupboards was a beautiful window which could be tilted outward and spanned parrallel to the top of the cupboards. I hurriedly put antiques up there with plants and dubbed it one of my favorite places in the apartment.

I finished the decorating by making the smallest bedroom into an office and creating a guest room near the bathroom. I used unusal art pieces and sculptures throughout and it was a blend of eclectic taste but somehow it was just what I wanted. I knew people would see who I was if they didn't know me before. I never ceased to feast my eyes on that apartment's features and feel that I was where I belonged. And of course they could smell who I was because I had candles everywhere, popurri and the bathroom offered evey kind of oil, bath salts and scented soaps. Plants were prolific and I used color with abandon.

One of the best reactions I got was when my husband visited on one of his "delivery" trips to get more junk out of our already overcrowded home. He commented he loved how it was decorated and loved the lighting and the colors and the sense of relaxation I had created. This was especially important as we had always butted heads about things I wanted to do to the house and he was just sure they wouldn't be "his cup of tea".

Remarkably, this victorian apartment had more square footage that our home. It was an amazing find and though I would eventually move on and re-do two more places, this apartment was the "creme de'la creme" for me. I will always remember it as a time when I was able to define myself through my creative side.

Now a celebration is in order when you finally get a new place settled and want to show it off. I decided , however, considering I was still fairly new to the community and didn't have a lot of friends handy I would start with a small "practice" dinner party. I needed practice finding my way around the kitchen and serving . I needed to be sure I had everything there I needed for a larger get together in the future. So, the dinner party was actually borne out of necessity, to assure me I was ready to be a hostess in the city rather than the hostess of all the church and PTA events.

Good planning involves finances so I set it near paycheck time . It was spring so I would have good weather and an abundance of fresh flowers available. I had learned that one of the things I most liked about being in the city was the abundance of fresh flowers everywhere. To this day I would have fresh flowers daily if life permitted.

I planned out a meticulous menu that would say 'good cook, good hostess' then set about checking my serving pieces and dishware. I had piece mealed so much in the move I wasn't really sure I had everything I needed. I didn't even know how many guests I could accomodate at a sit down dinner.

Everything went well until I thought about who to invite. This was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. I decided to start small and work up to something more expansive later. I would limit the guests to folks that had been recently helpful in getting me settled into the apartment or that I wanted to get to know better. I would just keep it small and intimate.

I first invited the elderly couple that owned the building where I lived. We had become better acquainted and I thought a nice dinner party would put them at ease when it was confirmed that I had nice friends and a quiet life style. This couple were remarkable in that they were in their eighties and still worked circles around everyone. They'd been married almost sixty years and done property management of their rental apartments in various locations and communities for over forty years. They had the distinction of being the first couple in the entire state, and most of the mid-west to start doing pro-life education and organization way back before it was even thought of to speak of it out loud. One daughter was married to a minister and they were very circumspect about who lived in their buildings and how one conducted themselves.

I then thought a second guest would be a young woman nearing her thirties who was in the city studying at a local hospital to become a hospital chaplin in her homeland of Norway. We had become friends and I enjoyed learning about her homeland and the challenge of educating her about my work. She was typically fit like the Norwegians and very "natural". I figured the menu would have to be adapted to be sure I covered things she would like to eat. I still struggled with her language barriers but we did alot of gesturing and guessing and it worked out .

A fourth guest was a co-worker who was in her thirties and single. She was an unabashed liberal feminist with a healthy ego and assertive nature. Employed in a shelter for families that were homeless, she was highly educated having finished her master's at an early age and holding some kind of certification in the work of the Methodist. Physically and fashion wise she was a throw back to the days of hippies and indeed I am sure she was born into the wrong time slot. When I first met her I felt she must be the prodigy child of a left over couple from a commune and was amazed to learn her parentage was third generation farm family in the midwest. Her passion was working with the homeless and pretending no interest in men. But she was easily read as being desirous of male relationships should the opportunity present itself. Her long hair parted in the middle and her mostly braless state though endowed with pendulous breasts were a testimony to the fact that if she couldn't be born in that time as a hippie, she'd recreate it.

Another co-worker was part time and she was the polar opposite of my hippie wannabe friend. She was from the east coast and a leggy blonde with a great body and a breathy low voice which had gotten her far in her former profession (prostitution). She had since become an avowed straight arrow and was filled with great potential and skills but no education beyond a year of business classes at a local trade college. She was a true contadiction wanting so bad to keep her life on the straight and narrow but being pulled by old behaviors and a life style that had been lucrative. She would boast that she hadn't been a prostitute but a very high paid call girl until she succumbed to legal problems that forced her change. But when considering her as a candidate for the dinner party I reasoned she did want to learn to function more easily in society . In a way she could use all the social skills she had acquired and meet new people with a different moral compass than she'd had in the past. And she definitely would be on her good behavior as she didn't want anyone knowing about her interesting past.

Well so far, it was four female guest with a male in his eighties. That wouldn't do so I had to think about the male guests. My husband hates these types of events and I wasn't sure if he would drive three hours to be seated with people he didn't know let alone feel he wanted to socialize with. My son who stayed with me part time was in the state legislature serving as a state reprepresentative but he was home on break.

The problem was solved when I learned of an acquaintence of mine from home who was living in the city now. His mother and I had been nurses together in the first hospital I ever worked in. It was funny as she and I had the same first name, both worked the same shift and were both fanatical church goers. People used to get us mixed up which was even funnier because she was African American and I was caucasian. I hadn't seen this young man since his mother's funeral and had been very touched by her death at the early age of thirty-four from a severe asthma attack. It would be so good to see him and he was new to the city and didn't really know anyone yet so this would be a great way to help him meet people. His mother had been strong in the work of her church and I knew with his background in church work he would get to enjoy hearing about the work of the couple in pro-life, and the Norwegian guest working on her chaplaincy. Ahhhh, I love it when you can bring people together.

The last guest was un-expected but it turned out he was coming to town to visit the young man I was inviting, so I just said to bring him along. I was warned he had a good appetite as he was a professional boxer. I was delighted and honored as my biological father and his brother were boxers in their youth and I loved boxing and boxers. It would be fun to introduce him to the other guests as I was sure he would be a diverse personality from others they knew. It hadn't even occured to me to ask his name.

So there we had it, my guest list. A Maybe husband, My landlord couple, My lady chaplain, My Methodist hippie wannabe, My recovering call girl, My friends son, and MY friends friend who was a boxer. And of course there was me. If it became an uneven number because my husband didn't come it wouldn't matter as I would be busy serving and running back and forth to the kitchen . It would be a lovely way to initiate my apartment and utilize all my unique social skills in intergrating this diverse group into a cohesive dinner party group.

The night arrived. My husband declined but actually with good reason. Family commitments at home.

The couple arrived first and of course offered any help I might need. I adeptly declined and seated them in the living room with the hor'durve's and left them admiring the candle lit atmosphere and free flowing scents of the flowers.

Arriving together were the lady chaplin and the Methodist hippie wannabe. They were engaged in frantic conversation about women's rights so I led them to the living room to share the snacks and wondered if any controversial issues would come up too soon before I could be there to referee.

Next came my two young men. Oh it was so good to see my friends son. He was just a tall lanky boy when last I saw him and now was a tall lanky man with a contagious smile and wearing Buddy Holly rimmed glasses. He had a stiffly starched white shirt on that indicated he probably was using a laundry service and had worn it to impress his mother's old friend. Now in his early twenties he was the epitome of a sweet church boy.

Towering over him with massive shoulders and a huge body frame was someone I quickly identified from my past. This young boxer was from my home area and had been a street fighter as a kid. He was tagged by a local boxing coach and put on a goal directed path. The plan was meant to channel his anger and rage into boxing and the income it can bring. He managed to get himself into several scrapes with the law along the way. He had been in and out of trouble and was no stranger to my sister and her fellow police officers. I had met him on serveral occasions in my work with the inner city kids. His huge hand enveloped half my lower arm as he tightened his grip and pulled me to him for a hug. He greeted me using "Miss" before my name and laughed at the surprise he'd pulled off getting to come see me without me knowing it was him. He then announced he was very hungry and went over to meet the other guests and examine the offerings of food.

Now I knew the party would not be a bust. It would be an event and not one to forget. I expected every guest present to have at least one culture shock that night. I was not disappointed.

Just at the magic moment of social tardiness, my last guest arrived. She blew into the room with her blonde hair flailing about as she laughed and apologized if she was late. In a form fitting green emerald jersy dress she about knocked the socks of the men present and the women experienced an eye widening look that said it all. Wow
she had worked her ever present charm and soon had everyone at ease. When asked about her work she skimmed lightly over her position part time with the homeless shelter for familes and her work with the state liason for prisoners and their families. But in truth, she had them at hello (as the now famous movie line goes).

Patting myself on the back for bringing together such a diverse and culturaly sensitve group, I walked in to the kitchen to tend to the next level of the dinner party. The food. I called to the group to gather around the table and pick their own seating . As I carried in the first platters of food I was greeted with their oohs and ahhs and I was mentally oohing and ahhing at the choices they had made for seating.

With my place at the head of the table nearest the kitchen, to my left was my boxer (probably needing to be close to the food was somewhere in that decision). Next to him was the lady chaplin, then the blonde bombshell,and the 80 year old prolife landlord. Across the table at the far end was my friends son, to his left the landlords dear prolife wife, to her left the Methodist hippie wannabe. No one had filled the seat at the head of the table. Maybe it was out of a silent tribute to the absent husband who I had made profuse apologies for. Strategically, it was an interesting seating arrangement that I couldn't have imagined myself.

I asked my landlord to say the blessing and everyone dutifully bowed and seemed relieved that he did a perfunctional old stand by of verse that ended quickly. I continued to carry in platters of foods and rolled in a two tier cart with additional side dishes and another cart with a selection of three desserts. My salads were stolen recipes from an Amish community restaurant and seemed to go over very well. I had made sure there was plenty of meat and meat selection because I didn't want my boxer going away empty. The breads were from a nearby bakery rather pricey but considered the best in the city and family owned for two generations.

Just as I was about to sit, I heard a knock on the back door. Completely at a loss as to who it could be I went quickly to the door and almost burst out laughing when I saw who it was. I knew this young man would be starving and I knew he would easily fill the seat at the head of the table. He was a special friend of my son's from college and had also been elected to the state legislature at the same time as my son. They supported each others manuvers and covered each others backs. He was like a second son and I welcomed him in and told him I was surprised he was still in town on break. He said he had some committee work to do and just decided to pop by like he used to back home and see if I wanted to go out and eat.

He was a little reluctant when he saw I had guests at the dinner table and realized it was a sit down dinner. I quickly put him at ease and got him seated. It took only moments for him to dig in and become a part of the hungry group. We did the traditional introductions as I led him to the table, but no one really knew any thing about the others except their names. It was about to get interesting.

About the time the plates were filling up with second helpings, I mentioned to the group in general that this young man was a friend of my sons and they worked together. Also that he represented my home district in the legislature. Immediately my friends son and the boxer made the connection that he would be their legislative representative too and that opened conversation.

The hippie wannabe chimed in "Oh God, not another Republican". She hated all Republicans.

My super good looking young legislator exuding the maximum amount of charm required laughed and shared that yes, he was a Republican and the only one in his family. He was from Chicago and his entire family for generations had been involved in Chicago politics as Democrats. He smiled and said this made him feel right at home to be with a group of Democrats.

At that point the two landlords piped up that they were staunch died in the wool conservative Republicans and were the original pro-life advocates in Iowa and most of the midwest.

I thought the hippie wannabe would lose her meal. "Well I take water to the abortion clinic staff and volunteers when those protestors come around" she said.

"In Norway we..." began the lady chaplain. I think her tone was too concilatory as she was quickly interrupted by our hippie again.

The discussions were brisk and never for a moment was there any lull in the conversation. The boxer sat quietly listening and finishing off about every meat platter. My friends son sat enamored by the blonde bombshell and hung on her every breathy comment. His eyes feasted on her and it occured to me I knew why he'd placed himself on the table opposite her instead of trying to be by her.

By the time we had our desserts then took coffee into the living room I was sure I was a masterful hostess. No one had died, thrown anything or left. We'd covered abortion, adoption, prison systems, politics, creation vs. the Big Bang Theory, fundamentalist vs Methodist, homeless issues and drugs and alcohol and the pros and cons of gambling. I do think, however it was the topic that the blonde bombshell brought up that took the prize.

In the midst of everyone making their points they would often refer to their own life experiences. The boxer talked of growing up a street kid in a drug infested neghborhood (that he thought the legislator should now visit and fix). My friends son talked of racism experiences and growing up without his mom and her loving influence. The couple talked of their being so poor and going through the depression, selling shoes, living hand to mouth and both being barely five feet tall. The lady chaplain talked of Norway and the needs of her country's health and moral needs. The hippie talked of her feminist beliefs and discriminations by people against the poor and men who preferred pretty women instead of admiring the brains of intelligent women.

I say again, it was the recovering call girl who really took the prize for the evening topics. As she became more comfortable it must have reminded her of the self help groups she attended to help her over come her background problems. She began to tell how she'd been a mother with children and got into drugs when prostituting to escape her abusive husband. She told that with his money her husband was able to get the children away from her. She then decided to make all of her natural abilities and gifts work for her. She became a high class call girl which of course made drugs and alcohol more a part of her life. It was a competitive market and call girls often double crossed or set up their competition. She ended up being arrested at a very exclusive hotel where the staff knew her so well and called her "Ms" (and her last name). She had a special table and amenities when she came and was catered too by everyone. She was in the company of a very well known figure when arrested but he wasn't charged and wouldn't get involved on her behalf. It was suggested she move away for her own well being so she moved to the midwest.

Since arriving in the mid-west she'd taken classes, gone to AA and NA (a drug self help group). But when she really took over the evening conversation was when she announced that what finally got her on the straight and narrow was when she realized that giving up all these other things could benefit her, but unless she took care of the one she clung to most, her sex addiction , she'd never be able to settle for a "normal" life. She had joined SAA (sex addicts anonymous) and that was what really changed her life.

Silence is golden they say. If so this was a very rich moment. I looked about the room to take a reading of the reactions. The landlord couple was looking at each other and I felt they were now beginning to question my being appropriate for their building. My friend's son's eyes were glowing like stars in the heavens and his look was transfixed on her. The lady chaplain had that look of a therapist that says,"nothing you can say will shock me because I am getting ready to fix you". And the hippi wannabe had that "if looks could kill you'd be dead" on her face. I could almost imagine her thoughts were "you're the person that keeps me from fulfilling my destiny as a woman appreciated for my mind". The boxer oddly enough kept glancing in at the dessert cart as though he wasn't sure if he'd already over done it socially by having five desserts.

As for my sweet legislator, I am sure he wondered if this night would come back to haunt him next election. But in the tradition of our friendship and his time spent with me back home helping with my projects, I am sure he was chuckling inside. He knew that this was so very typical and that if he suffered from any bad publicity that my son would cover his backside. After all he had only come to my house for dinner by accident. My son on the other hand had to explain me and claim me.

The night ended amicably with all parties saying they'd "grown" and "been informed" and "stretched their personas". They vowed not to lose touch if only through me. And mostly, they just left.

I felt reasonably assured that I was now ready to hostess in the big city. The food was great and plentiful. The space in the apartment was bountiful and the atmosphere was first rate. I knew if I could pull off that party I could handle any of the boring parties I might have either work related or to accomodate my son and his legislative counterparts.

Eventually I moved, did new career things, and got through my mid-life crisis. I returned home to my husband a changed woman. We still live in our same home we raised three kiddos in and we never have parties at home. I still have some events and parties, but they are few and far between and held at various locations. I have settled in to being a grandma that is content to remember and recall and record. But I do like it that I have the memories.

And my friends who attended the party? The lady chaplain went back to Norway and sent postcards for years. She completed her studies in the states and I am sure helped many people in her home country with a very open mind.

The hippie wannabe became more obsessed with fringe feminism issues and threw herself into a job working with a grant writer who she felt appreciated her for her mind and her pendulous bosoms (in between his numerous affairs).

The boxer continued to go up the ladder professionally but ended up being in and out of jail for domestic abuse. He reached a world champion caliber fight but was still living a life of fighting his devils the last I heard.

The legislator was easily re-elected and then stepped aside the next term to become the Chief of Staff to the state's Govenor. He got married to a sensible woman and has a sensible family and became a sensible businessman. I feel sure he , like me, is glad to have some great memories that weren't so sensible.

And the recovering call girl ended up falling off the wagon later with the friends son who never got over his first meeting with her. (Not the drug and alcohol wagon, the other one.) The landlords eventually rented that apartment to the recovered call girl when I moved to another apartment. (Of course that was before she fell off "that" wagon. )

They also eventually rented an apartment to the hippie wannabe when she was promoted professionally. Her reference from her grant writing boss who drove a big new cadillac probably was what tipped the scales as it wasn't from my reference.

The landlord lived to be nearly a hundred before he passed away and his wife now near a hundred still cares for her flowers at the building and has a retirement apartment there. I am quite sure they never forgot the infamous dinner party but secretly were a little proud that they had "spread their wings" in meeting new people and being culturally enriched. Thereafter they rented to a more diverse clientele reasoning that you can't influence those you are never around or in touch with.

For all you hostesses out there, take a page from my book and keep it interesting. Maybe not quite as interesting as that, but interesting. Being a "hostess with th mostess" can encourage a long lasting legacy for everyone.