There was more to the New Year’s Eve parties than just the food and the second line parade at midnight. A lot happened in-between. But first, a favorite story about prepping for the party.
The deep(ish) cleaning took place in the days after Christmas, but the day of the party was its own special kind of intensity. One year, on my 55th birthday, one of Rose’s friends had come to lend a hand with last minute prep. They had both just started driving. She said “So, Mr. James, how old are you this year?” I immediately fell into wise-ass mode and said “I am the same age that the speed limit was when I was your age”. She gave me a long, slow and thoughtful look and asked, “80?”. These kids these days.
Alcohol was prominent of course. Many people were beer drinkers so there were ice chests in a few places around the house, also loaded with pop and juice for the kids. It was usually cold enough that you could just leave your beers on the porch or out the back door, if there wasn’t room in the coolers. But I’m not a beer drinker, so I would have some cocktail concoction prepared. Pina Colada was the first few years, margaritas came next, I think. Then I discovered – mint julep. There were some serious bourbon drinkers that came each year, and my mint patch, even in the coldest winter, was dense enough that if I searched down against the earth, it would yield enough mint to boil down for the simple syrup to balance against whatever bourbon you wanted to throw at it. That was the best, and it became the standard thereafter.
Music was the core of every party, perhaps more so than the food. The jams would ebb and flow throughout the evening. If you played an instrument, you were expected to bring it. If you were a piano player, you waited in line. Pat O’Conner was usually there with his barrel-house blues and, on his turn, Mr. Bones would play his own brand of stride and boogie woogie. My favorite memory from any of the parties was when either of the amazing Stith sisters, Myrna or Carol, sat down at the piano. True joy there, I still cherish every moment of it. They have both been taken from us, far too soon.
Over time, paths diverted, life happened and I’m not sure I can pinpoint the last year the Holyoke party happened. I know I went to a New Year’s Eve party with Brother Paul and some of his theater friends in Oklahoma City one year. The duplex that Mary and I bought was cozy for us, but nowhere near big enough for a decent gathering. A couple of more years passed and then our friends Joy and Dahl, who had just moved into a nice, spacious home on the east side, offered to host the party. They were stalwarts from the early parties, and Dahl was, and still is, one of the serious bourbon drinkers. We’ve done that for a few years now, to great, but different, successes. This past year, of course, it became just another casualty of 2020. I hope that by the time this journal circles back around, we’ll all be ready to string up the guitars, load in Bones’ electric piano, boil down some simple syrup and do it all again. See ya then!