Last Saturday I went wine tasting with my friend Joe. It was a great time; we had some excellent wines, a beautiful drive up through the Napa Valley (a place I haven't been in probably 10 years since my major wine haunts tend to be in Sonoma county) under bright sunny skikes with golden rays shining off long tows of green. Acres and acres of vines were breaking forth in an abundance of tiny spring buds that, six months from now, will yield bushel upon bushel of plump ripe fruit that will eventually lead to hundreds of thousands of bottles of wine.It was a grand afternoon... though the trip was in fact a distraction - a misdirection - of my attention from the actual magic trick that was taking place back in Petaluma. While Joe and I meandered our way through "the other valley," Karen was back home busily preparing the scene of the crime - my new apartment - for a surprise house warming party, gathering foods and libations, and friends from all over town; all coming to MY HOUSE to celebrate my new digs on Fair Street - the first place in my entire life that is really a place that I can call my very own.
I was completely unsuspecting... I had NO IDEA (and I'm usually pretty sharp about these things). When Joe and I finally made it back to my house, he asked to come up, and with me in the lead and Joe lugging a case of wine on his shoulder, we proceeded up the stairs to my little apartment. As I opened the door, a dozen shouts of "Surprise!" greeted me along with raised glasses, banners, streamers, and smiling faces. I'm sure I looked like I had no clue what was going on. It's not my birthday... Am I in the wrong place?
Karen stepped forward to straighten me out... "Happy Housewarming!"
A few minutes later, seated in the middle of my sparsely furnished apartment ("Where are your chairs?" asked one friend), I gazed around at the wide grins, twinkling eyes and self-satisfied simpers and thought to myself, "These are my friends!"
I've never really had that experience before. I have certainly had friends over the years, and some of them have been - and are - long-term, die-hard friends that have stuck with me and by me no matter how stupid my decisions, chaotic my life, or imbecilic my behavior. But until now, I've never had a collective of friends, drawn from all different places, with different backgrounds, and different points of view; friends for whom the only real common ground is each other. This realization was the true gift of the party, a basic, clear, and somewhat startling realization that this group of a dozen folks (and another dozen or so who came along later) are people whom I love; people who love me.
A little over a month ago, my daughter got married and one of the biggest joys of that occassion was the opportunity to see the collection of crazy friends that she and Andy have gathered around themselves. Last Saturday afternoon I looked around my apartment and around Karen's back yard (where part two of the party continued lots of food, and drink, and conversation) with the joy filled realization that I too have somehow gathered around me a similar community. These people who share our existence together, people that can be counted on to laugh, cry, argue with and support each other despite both our annoying differences and similarities.
At the apartment, my friend Peter offered a toast and a blessing of my new place, saying, "A room of one’s own is where you define yourself, before you exit the door into a world that would rend you asunder. Your house is where your story springs from.
Congratulations on acquiring a room of your own, and let the chapters begin."
And those chapters did begin... right then, with the realization of this new place I have come to out of the long strange trip I've been on.
We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking terrific wines, and enjoying wonderfully prepared foods (including a fabulously marinated BBQ tri-tip , a spinach tortellini salad, a sort of baked veggie/potato casserole that was amazing and more... more... more... and more). One of the things about living in Northern California is that people really do know how to cook (and drink) wonderful, satisfying things. When you combine this with good company, playful laughter (as well as a few hot shot ping pong players) and informed and thoughtful conversation that lasts well into the night, sitting around a a burning fire (and even eating Somores)... well, to me that's about as close to heaven as all this stuff gets.
In fact... I'm pretty sure that I'm not interested in heaven unless it turns out to be like last Saturday night.
