The Pagan City

A teenage boy was helping his father clean up after a party. Grumpy that “the menfolk” were doing a chore usually designated for “the womenfolk” he sulked, slammed dishes, slung soapsuds across the sinks.

Gently, his father asked him, “So, did you have a good time?”

“Yeah.” Sulk, slam, sling.

“Then why are you upset?”

Sling, sulk, slam. “Dunno.”

Fearing for the safety of the good china, the father put his hand on the shoulder of the lad and said, “Let’s take five minutes.”

Through the ruins of streamers and the debris of salsa platters, they sat down on the couch.

“Son, what is a party?”

“A celebration?”

“Yes, but it is also a state-of-mind.”

Fearing his father was about to pine for his college days, the son said, “That sounds like something from a movie.”

“It probably is. Okay… let’s say that there are three kinds of parties. We’ll call them first, second and third.”

With a sinking feeling, the not-yet-man-not-still-boy felt a session of father-son bonding about to happen. The idea of slinging soap suds began to grow in appeal. But, his old man was rarin’ to wax philosophic.

“The first party is ‘we’ as in you, your mother, your sisters and me. The second party is ‘you’ as in the people we invite. The third party is ‘them’ or the one’s whom we did not invite. We throw a party for you so we can celebrate not having to be with them.”

“Who’s them?”

“The kids at school who just don’t get you. The bosses you have that don’t get their jobs or yours. People who want to harass instead of enlighten, those sorts of people.”

“So we throw a party to forget about them?”

“Kind of. A party is a sacred space in time in which we come together to prove to ourselves and to others that we can experience joy, and take pleasure in the company of our friends no matter what they think or do.”

“Sacred space?”

“Yes, celebrations can honor the living, the dead, the Gods, anyone that we cherish near or far. It is our duty, Son, to show hospitality. So your mom and I spend our money to buy all of this food and wine for us for you for them. In return, our family and friends will do the same thing… at a wedding, or a shower. So, it is important that we treat this experience as life-affirming and holy.”

“Which includes cleaning up afterwards?”

“Indeed, all tools of ritual must be cleaned and put away. Even one as unlikely as a casserole dish or a champagne flute.”

“So, we can finish cleaning up now?”

“No you can. Mom had too many Brandy Alexanders with my sister and my mother. I should go check on her. Remember, be careful with the china. Good night, son.”