This essay is taken from the archives of my original website, Ring Around the Basin. Lazy writer that I am, I plan to update and share some of these oldies with you. It's amazing how some of them still ring true a decade later. This is from November 5, 2009.
Pumpkins and "Beeh"
I’m not very good at hosting parties, especially when the weather has any influence.
One Memorial Day weekend, I organized a neighborhood garage sale. We hoisted glasses of wine at Judy’s gourmet dinner the night before, preparing to throw all our belongings into our driveways the next morning. The first few hours went well. Then it rained, and returned to rain later when we held a BBQ on our newly paved patio.
In December, I prepared to celebrate Winter Solstice. Judy and Rolland could easily wade through the foot or two of snow between their house and ours, but no one else could. As we waited for others to arrive, conversation grew brittle and sparse, especially after I reckoned that the four of us were It. Everyone else begged off. Rolland snarked at the lack of intellectual stimulation.
Another attempt involved my writers' group, many of whom found a more inspiring writerly event to attend. You know who your friends are when they complain how difficult it is to get to your house. One poet remarked that our Hobbit House was located at nose-bleed altitude, 6800 feet. At least my best friend, Cathee, braved the elements to share her poems.
Consummate masters of hospitality, Judy and Rolland started what soon became an autumn tradition -- the Aspen Fest. He had planted about a dozen aspens around his yard and friends from as far away as the Bay Area gathered in Truckee to toast their beautiful colors. A BBQ and short hike along some blazing riparian zone usually ensued. I must admit I was a tad envious, but we had so much fun, I couldn't stay jealous for long.
Try as I would, I could never match Judy's entertaining successes. When, they moved to Reno, neighbors across the street picked up the baton. A Fourth of July BBQ, complete with a soccer game on their vast lawn, and a Christmas Eve open house attracted the most illustrious businesspeople and artists in the neighborhood. Realizing my parties didn't spark local enthusiasm, I soon gave up and simply enjoyed being a guest. Why fight it? Frankly, it was much more enjoyable being the guest. No cleanup to endure through a hangover.
Then our daughter, Val, got a wild notion to hold a pumpkin carving party for Halloween. The weather was balmy with the glow of global warming and little suns filled each day in the Reno Gazette’s five-day forecast. So she and I faced the Halloween shoppers at Safeway and bought five good-sized pumpkins as well as lots of nibbles and drinks. Jeff's latest batch of home brewed ale was also ready to tap.
I felt confident that, with Val in charge, the party gods would smile upon this little bacchanal. Val’s an alumna of Chico State, so parties are her thing. In fact, I believe Chico State might even offer a major in liquor consumption, mixology, and event planning. If not, perhaps they should. With the COVID lockdown fading in our memories, giving and attending parties ought to be gearing up again any minute.
We invited Kristie, who bought Judy and Rolland's house, Jake and his Labrador, Casey, from down the street, and Joanne and Joel who lived just behind our house. They were all without easy walking distance and the weather cooperated for a change. We also figured the promise of sampling Jeff's newly tapped homebrew ale would be a good enticement.
Jo is a funny, bright and bubbly Aussie, who showed up first and was the only guest for nearly two hours. I thought, here we go again, another bust. She was so enchanted by this strange American holiday of Halloween and this even kickier craft of carving pumpkins she kept us enthralled with her joy until the others finally showed up.
Jake brought his own pumpkin, but the football game consumed his attention. He and Jeff retreated to the barcaloungers with bottles of Jeff’s ale. Meanwhile, Jo commandeered Jake’s pumpkin and carved it for him. Joel brought a really tiny one he’d purchased at the local organic grocery store, and she finished that one, too. Did I mention Jo was absolutely giddy about pumpkin carving?
She also loved Jeff’s home brew, or BEEH, as she would say. She had helped Jeff start the ale and bottle it, so she and Joel could someday make their own home brews. Jeff gets a kick out of teaching people how to do things.
Because of our bubbly Aussie friend and the beeh, the party was a grand success. Jeff raved about it for days. I told him it must’ve been because of the spacious patio he had paved that summer. Now that we had more room outside, we can entertain.
And the pumpkins? We displayed them proudly on some boulders in our front yard along with other trappings of the holiday. Perhaps only about a dozen people saw them. We don’t get many trick-or-treaters in our remote neighborhood, but somebody else appreciated our efforts.
Next morning while retrieving the paper, I found most of the pumpkins had been chewed up and dragged off the rocks. The morning after that, one pumpkin lay in the middle of the street. I wondered, is it deer or bear?
I gathered the larger chunks and dumped them in the greenbelt where the animals could finish them in safety. Okay, so that’s not politically correct in bear country. A better solution would've been to give them to my horse, Abby.
Later that night, I peeked outside and there in the moonlight was a doe munching on the leftovers. Next afternoon, a herd of eight does gathered around the rocks where the pumpkins had been placed. The ladies looked confused. Someone had cleaned up their buffet.
Well, my parties may be funky and guests may arrive late, but there’s always someone around who’ll have a good time. I can always depend on my non-human neighbors to take advantage of my hospitality.
Just a simple update: Joanne and Joel moved back to her native New South Wales shortly after this party and have been raising their two beautiful daughters for the past decade. Judging from their Facebook posts, though, carving pumpkins didn't make the move with them.
If you enjoyed this story, feel free to read more in the Ring Around the Basin Archive.
