Mrs. Figurehead and I decided this year to resurrect our (at one time) legendary Christmas party. We started having the party back in December of 1999 after moving back from Charleston, SC to Nashville. Everyone came to the party back then. It usually resulted in a multiple bodies passed out on the floor of our one bed room apartment in Murfreesboro; we would go through a keg and invariably someone would be sent on a beer run for more. The party became a tradition and followed us to our new home eventually where we had much more room – and the crowd grew. It was a yearly blowout that served to keep us young.
Mrs. Figurehead gave birth to our daughter 2 1/2 years ago, after spending that Christmas on strict bed rest. The party went on a 3 year hiatus and many thought it was gone for good. I wasn’t ready to let it go though. I decided that this …THIS…would be the year for the triumphant return. I invited the usual suspects, plus some new faces from our current jobs; 60 some invites meaning we’d have 120 at the house for the party. YES! We’d throw down like days gone by. I even added a twist to this years party, by making it an 80’s theme. We had the music and I had the outfits…multiple outfits that I’d do wardrobe changes in throughout the evening. Everyone can get sitters for their kids, right? No one would dare miss the return of THE PARTY. WRONG.
We had about 20 people. Half of them didn’t dress up. Was I hurt? No…I’m a big boy and I know that people have other obligations with kids now and work functions. Was I disappointed somehow? Yes. I can’t really put my finger on exactly what disappointed me about it. I know that our families and jobs take priority in our lives as we get older. Heck, I’m probably the most guilty person of all of not showing up to things that I’m invited to. It’s just hard with a two year old.
That said, those of us who showed up had a good time. There I was in skin tight Mini Brutes t-shirt that exposed my mid-drift, a 1981 Mini Brutes jacket from our championship season (yes this stuff still fits me!), a pair of cut off jeans, tube socks to my knees, a baby blue Jack Russell Terriers visor, and an 80’s walkman complete with antenna. I eventually changed into a skin tight Shape Belgium jersey. A handful fo my college buddies hung with me until the bitter end. The bitter end = midnight.
Mrs. Figurehead even cleaned the place up before going to bed. That never used to happen in the old days. She’d pass out and we’d worry about it in the morning. I stayed up with Bart, one of my old room mates.
I awoke at 9:00am with a screaming headache that’s lasted for two days now. Will we have the party again? I doubt it; it’s time has passed I’m afraid. I do know that I’ll take invites I get people more seriously though. Getting old doesn’t bother me, it’s just the sad realization of it that’s troubling. It’s not that my own grey hairs hurt. It’s seeing the proverbial grey hairs of my friends. HoHoHo…plenty of leftover beer at my house.