The Party by Ricky

During my 13^th or 14^th year, while in 8^th or 9^th grade, A female classmate invited me to her birthday party.  Sadly, I do not remember her name, but I do remember the highlight of the party.  There were no adults present as we began to play spin-the-bottle.  Time passed excruciatingly slow while I watched the bottle top consistently spin pass me and settle on other boys in attendance – some two or three times.  We each got only one spin per turn and if the bottle stopped on the same sex or between two people, your turn was over.

According to our rules, every boy/girl partner got three minutes alone in a large storeroom.  I guess everyone was supposed to know what to do in that room, which I thought, was to “make out” but no one said anything at all to confirm that belief or to explain what was or was not expected.  Consequently, when the bottle finally stopped on me there was an awkward moment in the storeroom as we negotiated what we would do.  It turns out the girl did not know what was expected either.  We admitted that we really did not want to “make out” so we just stood there talking until the time was up.  I was not invited to another party as an adolescent.

After I married, I returned to college to finish a degree in Justice Administration.  While there, I joined Air Force ROTC.  Since I already had four years of enlisted experience, I only needed to do the last two years of ROTC classes and obtain a degree to become an Air Force officer.  The timing, although unplanned on my part, was perfect and both goals aligned precisely.

One day I read on the ROTC bulletin board that there was a mandatory “social event” at Captain Williams' home that night; casual dress.  I told my wife and we both attended.  I was somewhat bewildered upon my arrival when I did not know any of the other ROTC cadets.  It turns out that there were two Captain Williams; one Air Force and one Army.  Since I did not know either of their first names I accidently crashed the Army's social.  Captain Williams was very gracious and invited us to stay.  We did.

As we partook from the bountiful refreshments, Deborah asked me to get her some of the fruit punch.  I shortly returned with two glasses and gave her one.  I found it to be a delicious blending of various pieces of fruit, sherbet, and 7-Up.  Deborah sipped her's slowly while I “sipped” much faster and went to get another.  A short while after I returned with my second drink, Deborah had finished and asked me to get her another.  Before I left, I asked her if she liked it and she responded that she did.  I retrieved another cup of the punch for her.

After she had drunk about half of the second cup, I asked again if she really liked it.  Deborah was no dummy so she immediately got suspicious and asked me why I was asking her.  I said, “Just curious.”  She replied, “What's in it?”  I told her that there was a variety of fruit flavors but the predominant flavor was banana.  Deborah has hated bananas even before she could talk.  She communicated her dislike by spraying whatever her mother had mixed bananas into all over her mother, table, and wall.  Her mom was consistent and so was Deborah; her mother finally gave up.  At the social, she put down her punch cup and did not drink from it again.

This past New Year's Eve, I went alone to a party held in the Constitution building.  I paid my Greenbacks and entered.  All the big Whigs were there spouting the usual Anti-Federalist propaganda – sounding very Republican.  The Tories family arrived at the party wearing Bull Moose headdresses.  I thought they appeared rather Progressive but everyone else said it made them look like has-beens; so the family members promised to Reform and wear something more Libertarian in the future.  The hostess tried her best to provide nutritious refreshments which included Greens.  Some Bostonians took offense and wanted to hold their own little party in another room, but a Prohibition on violence effectively prevented them from throwing out the Tea.  A few Silver haired guests wanted to ruin People’s games by starting an Anti-Monopoly chant.  Shortly thereafter, a cadre of American Socialists demanded Justice in entertainment and began to light up the Marijuana.  The police responded when a Communist and an American Nazi engaged in fisticuffs.  I tried to have an Objectivist attitude towards all the activities, but since I value Peace and Freedom and I am a Pacifist at heart, I left the party early along with other Citizens.  All in all, it was a very Democratic affair.

© 7 January 2013  

About the Author 

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.