| The Party |
By: Lois Kellerman, Columnist, “Mother Knows Best”
On 12/31/05
When Ellie got off the phone she wondered why her stomach was churning. “Not the sardine and tomato sandwich I hope.” But, no; what was driving Ellie’s indigestion was worry about her upcoming party.
| "Because we always seem so miserable when we get together." |
It was three days to New Year’s Eve and no one had replied to her invitations. Not even Uncle Tad who was rumored to sleep in pickle juice he was so mean. Still, she sent an invitation. After all, Uncle Tad was a fixture at family gatherings. His absence, like a sour fog full of cabbage-field-smells, would hang heavy over the entire party.
“Five more calls to go,” Ellie told the sympathetic-looking bird perched on the fencepost feeder outside the kitchen window. Winter rains had already begun, but this morning the redwood trees glistened in the full glory of high-cloud light.
Ellie decided that she would leave her intended phone call to the twins until last. She wanted the twins to come to the party, but she also wanted them to leave their most wretched CD’s at home. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation.
Looking at her post-it notes Ellie realized she also wasn’t ready to call her daughter. Kat danced in a small troupe weekends, and weekdays worked as a paralegal in downtown Chicago. According to Kat, she had raised herself all alone. Why was it easier, Ellie wondered, for Kat to love a willfully absent father than a mother who had made it to every school play since Kat had first learned to bow?
Ellie decided to call little Teddy. At three he would still be thrilled to be receiving a telephone call from Grandma. As it turned out, Teddy was off on a play date and Ellie’s son, Ron, answered the phone.
“Do you have some idea of when you’ll be driving up, dear?” Ellie asked.
“Don’t know. Maybe Saturday. Maybe next week. “
“Next week!” Ellie exclaimed. “I thought you said you’d be here in time for the party.”
“Don’t know.”
A few hours later, weary from more failed calls and heavy housecleaning, Ellie went into the living room. She fell at once into her favorite twill-upholstered chair. Sitting there, her bones complaining some, she stared at the pleasantly blank TV screen. As the winter sun sank toward darkness Ellie noticed a soft flicker of light on the screen. Slowly, it came alive. Ellie was transfixed by the images flowing before her eyes. It was the condensed story of her life.
Every family gathering ever given was featured in its entirety. And what struck Ellie as most odd was this: While the themes, habits of dress, faces and ages all changed as the years spun by, the party was always the same.
It was as though the chairs bedecked with bright ribbons were filled not by people but roles. For instance, there was always a complainer in chair #3. And chair #5 was the picky eater. Yell-at-each-other chairs sat side-by side, and the end chairs seemed to be reserved for grumps.
The chair set-up was a “setup.” This stunning insight hit Ellie as deep as a landslide. “Once you enter the room…,” she thought, “…once you sit in a particular chair, year after year, like it or not, you have to play the part.”
Suddenly the TV screen went blank. Ellie heard faint ringing in her ears. Was it tinnitus? No, the ringing was from somewhere outside. Oh, it’s the telephone. Of course! Ellie fell back into her ordinary self and jumping up ran into the kitchen and lifted the receiver. Before she could say hello she heard her daughter’s raspy voice. “Ma…”
“Yes, Kat, I’m here.”
“Ma, I’m not coming to the party this year.”
“Why not?” Ellie heard herself saying.
“Because we always seem so miserable when we get together.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Ellie pensively replied. Then, with uncharacteristic resolve she added, “You know what, Kat, I’m not going to the party, either!” Before her daughter had time to reply, Ellie chirped, “What are your plans for New Year’s eve?”
“I don’t have any plans.”
“Well, you do now,” Ellie laughed, using her free hand to grab her heaviest coat from the coat rack. She tossed on top of her knapsack.
“Ma, what do you mean?” Kat cried.
“I’m going to the airport tonight and catching the first plane I can to Chicago.”
“Really?” It was the first time in ages that Ellie had heard such a joyful tingling in Kat’s voice.
“Yes, really! A new year is coming. It’s time to start new traditions.”
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