It was historic, all right.
Just not the kind of history we were hoping to make.
When life hands you torrential downpours, microbursts and tornadic winds — while 70 people are on their way over — you pivot.
And keep on pivoting.
In retrospect, we should have known better. Who plans an outdoor party in the state that tops the nation in severe weather reports? Even with contingency tents?
But summers run short around here.
For many others, a washed-out party was the least of their long-weekend woes. Some lost power, some lost property and, most horrific, precious children lost their lives in a tragic, weather-related boating accident on Lake Geneva.
We probably wouldn’t have had a party at all were it not for the fact that this year’s Fourth of July marked the 250th birthday of America.
Even those of us who are conflicted about the path our nation is on felt compelled to mark the occasion. In this era of divisiveness, the milestone was a reason to come together.
But, like a metaphor of these turbulent times, Mother Nature came down hard.
On the day of the party, my husband and I were up early, arranging tables and unfolding chairs. We filled coolers, clipped tablecloths and put together a basket of mosquito repellents.
For several hours, everything looked great, especially the outdoor decorations.
In the kitchen, my daughter and niece arranged cheese plates and dips and platters of chopped watermelon.
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Of course, we were watching the weather but it seemed the forecast changed by the hour and, depending on which app we were looking at, varied dramatically.
I opted to believe the most optimistic outlook. The others were more skeptical.
Add weather forecasting to the list of things that have gotten more difficult in the past year, thanks to federal budget cuts and changing priorities.
Twenty minutes before showtime, the skies blackened, the tents billowed and the decorations went airborne.
The DJ moved into the garage.
As we were setting up the food, the heavens opened, drenching the patio and the guests who were making their way along the sidewalk.
I did a quick scan of inside seating and panicked.
There are certain benchmarks a party planner must meet for a successful gathering: 1. Guests want to sit with people they know; 2. You need a variety of food to accommodate all tastes, aversions and restrictions; 3. The kids need something to do.
I had made arrangements for all three — outside. We had comfy vignettes where familiar groups could gather. We had arranged a varied menu and encouraged people to bring a dish they liked. And we had an inflatable dinosaur pool for the kids.
But when you move indoors and reduce the party space by more than half, some things have to go.
There would be no line dancing this day. There would be no games of bags. And the blow-up slide never left the box.
Furniture was rearranged. Chairs and tables were set up in every available space. The buffet area quickly exceeded capacity and some dishes had to be relegated to the fridge in the garage.
I broke a sweat, fearing everyone would have a miserable time.
But here’s another truth about parties, and life in general: Bad weather is temporary; good people are constant.
No one seemed bothered by the crush at the door. Everyone found a place to sit. Dishes were rotated in and out.
And the kids, who ranged in age from 1 to 17, somehow directed themselves to the main bedroom. They flopped across the bed and sat cross-legged on the floor, the littles playing with toys while watching Disney, the older ones following the White Sox game on their phones. The chatter was nonstop as the moms who brought food and took away trash could attest.
Everywhere I looked, there were smiles and laughter and people eating and drinking and talking. When we brought out the cups of Rainbow Cone ice cream, there were real cheers.
It felt good. Because bringing people together was the point.
Our time on this planet is fleeting. And life can be hard, especially if you’re flying solo or at the age when obituaries are a regular read.
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If you get an invitation, take it. And if you have the ability to host, do it. If we’ve learned anything from COVID and aging and the current adversarial political climate, it is that humans need other humans. We need each other’s ideas and affirmation and support. And we need opportunities to connect, to learn and to feel loved.
You don’t need a perfect house or a gourmet menu or top shelf liquor to do that. You just need a guest list of caring, adaptable people.
As the evening turned to night and the festivities wound down, people hugged and said goodbye and thanked my husband and me for persevering. Several friends expressed appreciation for the new friends they’d made.
It was a historic event on a historic day, I thought.
But then, I reconsidered. Was it really? It seemed I, at least, had been here before.
Just a couple of generations ago, families were double, even triple, the size they are today. My extended family easily topped 100.
I have vivid memories of the swell of humans gathered for holidays at my grandmother’s house in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood.
We had to park blocks away. There were never enough chairs. And the wait for the bathroom could rival a theater intermission line.
And yet, we always left with our stomachs and our hearts full, assured that we were loved and that we belonged.
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at [email protected].