We’ve been in a weather pattern that leaves our Michigan roads void of snow and ice and what a treat that is, says the lady who is thrilled to be able to report this. It improves my social life not to have to factor weather into my winter decisions to leave the house. Over the weekend, for example, there was a Christmas party for my neighborhood association where we can pay our dues, do a little business meeting, eat pizza and get to know each other. I’ve lived within the domain of the association for thirteen years and have never gone to their twice a year parties. When Don as alive, his wheelchair kept us from going---we’ve got the only wheelchair friendly house in the entire 100 house association. Whatever possesses someone to open up their home to 100 potential families for a party, is something I don’t possess and don’t understand, but this chit-chat is side-tracking me from the Christmas party.
I know a few people by sight from walking Levi around the neighborhood and, of course, the people on my short cul-de-sac but when I walked into the party not a single one of them was in attendance. I had a flash back to when I was in my twenties and walked into a party that didn’t take me long to figure out was a party full of gay couples. What a shock! I had no idea the girl who had invited me to meet her at that party was gay but she obviously thought I might me. I didn’t stay, of course---it was the 60s and I barely understood what being gay meant but I knew there wasn’t a chance of me meeting my future husband at that party. And then there was an ugly scene with the girl the next time I saw her. God, I’m getting side-tracked again but at least this one was a funny side-track. Back tracking to when I walked into the neighborhood party and I saw a living room with wall-to-wall women and a kitchen full of guys. After a few, “who are you” and “where do you live” questions in the living room I moved to the line in the kitchen to pick up some pizza. That’s where I met the only other person at the party over forty. He was my age, not bad looking, a smart dresser and he talked too much. That last observation is a strange criticism coming from a woman whose husband was affectionately called “motor mouth.”
He was talking to another man when I walked up, asking if the younger guy knew where the UAW union hall is moving to. He didn’t. I did and so I chimed in the information and after a while the younger guy backed off and let us old duffers entertain each other. I stayed a little longer than I did at the gay party decades ago and by the time I left I had a better understand of why phrase II people, where I live, don’t attend these parties. It was full of phrase I people who live on the lake and learning about how our dues money is spent made me feel like little orphan Annie. Phrase II people couldn’t even get an entrance sign put up on our section while phrase I gets docks, fire pits and boat storage racks built on the lake. And it’s not like we can quit paying our yearly dues. If we do, they double every month for six months then a lean gets put on our houses. In two years we get to vote on dissolving the association as per the by-laws of the builder who who set up the association and since phrase I people are in the majority, I can guess how it will go. Bottom line: A phrase I-er would never date a phrase II-er I’m quite sure. And even if they did, I’d find something wrong with the party guy---like he isn’t Don.
Changing topics: I finally finished reading the Hunger Games series and now I want to see the last two movies. I don’t know why, they’re far from my favorite genre of books or movies. The writing style in the books isn’t all that lyric and I didn't even have to look up a single word in the entire series. But, boy, can Suzanne Collins ever do chapter cliffhangers that leave you wanting more. I’m hoping against hope that my movie and lunch club, this month, will pick Mockingjay Part I. They won’t, but if it’s running at the same time as whatever they pick, I may go on my own. Anyway, this whole paragraph is just a lead-up to me sharing my favorite line from all three Hunger Games books and it came near the end of the trilogy: “What I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred, I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again….” That speaks to my widow’s heart. ©