EDITOR’S NOTE
Life of the Party
Trash Talk & Punch Bowls
By Marie Elium
Estate sales and archaeology have a lot in common, based on my experience with the former and none with the latter.
I spot promising sales from the preview photos online. Houses with messy stacks of linens, dusty boxes crammed with who-knows-what, and poorly lit closets are the best. The hunt is fun, occasionally rewarding, and, if I’m being truthful, a little bit sad.
Like an archaeological dig, a good sale reveals the layers of a family’s life: bronzed baby shoes, Lincoln Logs, high school trophies; serving spoons in the back of kitchen drawers, a few pieces of crystal stemware, and usually a George Foreman Grill.
The basement is where the story gets told most clearly, if not cleanly. Next to the portable toilet chair, walkers and other sobering symbols of aging, I find ornate punch bowls, oversized serving platters, sets of fine china, linen napkins and crisply ironed tablecloths, seams browning from decades of disuse. It’s a family’s timeline marked, not only by time, but also by the items left behind.
Party People
The party gear is most poignant to me: fondue pots, candelabras and champagne flutes packed away by homeowners whose hosting days are over. I’ve been in a clearing-out mood lately, mostly because the weather has chased me back indoors. I’m still on the entertaining/hosting track, but am sorting through kitchen items and party gear that I no longer need. I’m keeping the best of stuff and leaving it for our kids to tackle with a dumpster and a tag sale company after I’m gone.
My party life started early. I recall Christmas gatherings most clearly, watching my parents mix onion dip and thaw frozen shrimp for the adults, sending the kids upstairs with pop, chips, board games and a black-and-white TV set. I still consider frozen shrimp a perfect party food.
In high school, my friends and I attended keg parties in a field. A couple of students organized them, and no one seemed to care that 16-year-olds bought tickets to keggers between classes. We also had a smoking area adjacent to the high school gym — that’s how old I am.
College was a blur of costume parties, punches made in trash cans, and the occasional fraternity blowout. After I got married, we hosted potluck parties on paper plates and lit candles to set the mood.
When we had kids, the parties, low-budget and simple, got more chaotic. Our store-bought piñatas would have been sorry competition for the Pinterest-inspired gatherings now on my social media feed.
What I remember best about giving and going to parties is who was there, not the shabby apartment furniture or Cheez Whiz-topped crackers. When I start to get party-giving cold feet, I remind myself that people make the party; they’re the most important element. Guests have an obligation to bring more than an appetizer; a good party is a collaborative effort. Everyone plays a role.
As we enter the party-intensive time of the year, we at Thrive magazine have several stories in our Holiday Issue to help make the season bright while keeping you and your guests comfortable. I’m looking forward to the next two months; I like everything about getting together with friends and loved ones… hosting parties and attending them. Even the post-party cleanup routine has a meditative feel to it.
That’s my take. I’ll get off my soapbox. You can find your own way through the holidays, probably much better than I.
I’m not sure where my punch bowl is, and I may need the trash can in a couple of weeks for our progressive dinner, if we’re assigned the beverage-hors d’oeuvre course. Parties are a good place for chit-chatting and storytelling. I’ll add trash talk to the list.
Happy holidays,
Marie
