Two Patriotic Parties

Joe and I are not ones to do things on a modest scale. We wanted to make our Moreland Hills July 4^th gathering an annual event to rival the one on the National Mall. There would be fireworks. Town & Country would send a photographer. It would be a summer soirée like something out of The Great Gatsby.

When in 2020 we moved into our new home, capacious by comparison to the old one and ideal for entertaining, we knew that hosting was suddenly in the cards for us. It felt like an imperative.

Mame makes an entrance
Image: Getty

The only problem with this plan was me. Oh, I love the idea of being a smooth and debonair host, one who convenes followers, makes a grand entrance, proffers canapés, and tosses off witticisms like the eponymous heroine in the opening scene of Auntie Mame. 

But in actuality, I find it hard to stop obsessing over details, relax, and enjoy the guests. Some people are natural hosts. I envy anyone with natural hosting skills.

In 2021, the year of our first Independence Day revelries, prospective guests were good and ready to socialize. Many had had it with the isolation and banana bread-baking stage of the pandemic. They were primed to party.

Joe and I created invitations, planned the menu, brought our outstanding home projects to completion, and looked forward to opening our new backyard to guests. 

Gazpacho Shooters

Due to supply chain issues, our patio furniture did not even arrive until the day before the party. That should have been a stressor, but we let Mary worry about it. We never once considered how audacious it was to plan a big outdoor party without patio furniture in place. 

It is a common belief that the host does not get to enjoy himself at his own party, instead liaising with help, refilling drinks, and butterflying about to make sure everyone else is having fun. But have a good time I did, and so did Joe. We ate, we mingled, and we laughed. My friend Julie even commented on how unstressed I seemed.

Appetizer Spread

Alas, this is a tale of two parties, and the second one was preceded by a domestic catastrophe from which I am still recovering. 

The night before our “second annual” patriotic party in 2022, we had a master bathroom flood that caused the living room ceiling below to partially collapse. As if that weren’t bad enough, you can only imagine the challenge of finding a plumber at 2 a.m. on a holiday weekend. At that hour, you get robotic answering services who helpfully remind you it is a holiday while you wait for Noah to arrive with the ark.

Joe had been fussing all day before the party to make sure our home was gleaming. When I awakened him, panic-stricken, to inform him that we had a flood, he was so exhausted he barked not to wake him up again unless there was a fire. 

Sleep-deprived and still in shock, we managed to pull it all together and receive guests the next day -- but the mental toll of the night before lingered. Self-conscious about our living room ceiling, I steered guests to other areas and sought to make strong enough eye contact that they wouldn’t gaze upward.

It took another four months before our contractor had time on his schedule to repair the living room ceiling. The crevice remained all summer, an open wound reminding me of the perils of parties, the risks of hosting, and the woes of being a homeowner.

This year, we are giving ourselves a break from entertaining over the July 4^th holiday. Last year may have put a ceiling on our psychological capacity to host big parties. 

But whether or not you are hosting guests, enjoying hosting, or doing it out of obligation, I send my best for July 4^th holiday. Grill burgers and be done with it. 

If we decide to go back to our large-format July fête in 2024, you’ll all be invited. Just don’t look up. 

Backyard at party time, 2022