No Potluck

I’m BACK!! Okay I have two things to apologize for here. First: Sorry it’s been so long. Sometimes we just need a break. Sometimes taking a step back is the only way to figure out where the hell you’re going.... Well that and a good map seeing as though I’d get lost going to the grocery store. Second: This is going to be a long post... so if you haven’t yet, grab a cup of coffee, hunker down, call in the children, get comfortable, and any other euphemism that means, this sucker is freaking long so be warned. (FYI: It’s 4 am so spelling and grammatical errors are a given tonight)

The Potluck Play

The 4th of July is full of them. All across this country this little tradition will take place. No matter where you are, where you go, who is around you, they’re all the same. It’s a strange phenomenon this potluck thing. I like to think of it as a play. Because no matter where you are the script and the characters are the same, much like life. Above all, as amazing as it sounds, you can tell a lot about someone if you look past their character in the Potluck Play.

Let me give you the basics shall I? There’re several groups of people that will attend every potluck. There’s a group of women that live for these events. I’ll call them the peacocks. They make a dish in an attempt to outdo another. It’s the same type of measurement that must take place in a men’s locker room. You’ll always have another group of people that love to be social, they’re the humming birds. They’ve brought an easy dish as they had to squeeze it in between their son’s soccer match and their daughter that needed to go to a birthday party. There’s an older category of people, the eagles, which are old enough to be grandparents. They love to bring in their old family recipe for some dish like enchiladas or fried chicken. There’s the lone soul, the crow, who comes to eat and run. They often forget to contribute food, but are always the first in line to get some. The last group, apart from the partners that were drug to the event by another, is the sparrows. They’re the average Joe. They bring something simple, try to be polite, make some small talk, and then get the hell outta Dodge. This is the largest group in the Potluck Play.

Now you are wondering why I am going into all this? Well, there’s a lot you can learn about people from these little socials. I’m not really a fan of the potluck. That probably has something to do with the fact that I would never subject someone to my cooking unless I was planning to kill them for the insurance money... I jest people stop worrying. So I sit there and do what I always do... I people watch. I watch as the peacocks strut about asking everyone who couldn’t escape their approach if they had tried whatever it is that they brought. Then of course you have to tell them that it was wonderful and could you please have the recipe. The crow chows down on his food in a desperate attempt to get the hell out of there without having to say a single word and just before the button on his pants pops off. The peacocks whisper about him and make snide remarks about him just being there in order to eat. The eagles are after the sparrows to eat more... we are either too skinny or haven’t had a home cooked meal in way too long. They want to see your face as you bite into their special dish. They pinch our cheeks and call us honey. The poor humming birds are running after their children who are on a little high because the hit the dessert table first.

That’s what you see if you look on the surface. No huge meaning... just normal potluck pandemonium. What would happen if we as people took a step back and bothered to look a bit deeper? It’s so easy to scoff at the crow that came just to eat. It’s easy to say he is rude when he eats more than his share and doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Would your opinion change of him if you knew that last year at about this time this man lost his wife of 30 years to cervical cancer? Would you bother to see that he was just so lonely he just needed to be around people but couldn’t bear to be social himself? Would the peacocks that judge him and cut him down care that this was one of the first times in a year he had something that wasn’t heated in the microwave oven? Would you now scoff or leave him to his sorrow and to his fledging hope that there is life after her death?

Would you find the humming bird more social and give them credit for attending if you found out that this was the first chance they had in weeks to attend a function that would involve adult conversation? Would you cut them some slack when their child ran past you spilling your soda down the front of your shirt if you knew that this was the first time in months that they didn’t have to worry about dinner? They could relax knowing where their children are and be able to breathe that rare relaxing breath that only a young parent appreciates. Would the peacocks hold back their bitterness that they brought something store bought if they knew the humming bird hadn’t sat down in over 13 hours?

If we really took the time and bothered to see, wouldn’t we see the eagle isn’t annoying in her tendency to nag or play mother hen to the sparrow? They aren’t being snobs for ignoring the strutting of the peacocks. Would we understand them a bit better if we knew that their own children only call on holidays as they now have families of their own? Would we let them pinch our cheeks if we knew they had so much love to give and only an empty house to give it to? I’d like to think that their dish, that had been handed down through generations of their family was a gift that they are bringing. They drew on their roots to create something that has been on their own family’s tables for years for a group of relative strangers. They in essence are looking for an outlet..... any outlet for their love.

The peacocks who have been so judgmental will be the butt of many jokes after the potluck ends. People will talk of their insanity and their caustic words. What if we knew that they just simply craved attention and don’t know of a better way of getting it? I’ll bet no one cared to know that Janet, the lead peacock, is stuck in a loveless marriage... Or that peacock #2 had her husband leave her after 7 years of marriage for another woman that made him feel younger. Would they gain our sympathy when we realized that they had nothing of their own, that these two woman need something to cling to, some small victory to give them some confidence. Yes, they show it in a horrible way... but does that make them any less deserving of a second look?

What about our little sparrow, folks like me? They hear the snickering and can see the eye rolling over the fact that again they just brought paper plates and cups. They are the losers that have no respect for authority and aren’t willing to put forth enough effort to even cook something. If you looked again you would see me. You’d see that I’m just fumbling around looking for my wings. You’d see that I don’t have the money to pay all of my bills or enough to eat any meal over $5. Would it matter to you that I spent way too much time in the store looking for just the right plates. That maybe I was not taught how to cook and really have no talent for it. That maybe I am learning how to be on my own and taste life. Would it matter to you that the cups and plates you scoff at cost me more than I would spend on groceries for myself in 2 days? Would you call me lazy behind my back if you know I made sure at the store to get the kind that won’t drop the peacock’s famous baked beans in everyone’s lap?

That’s the thing. We all have problems. We all have a hole people will peg us into. We all have our reasons for playing the part we do in the Potluck Play. Somehow, someway, if others knew the reasons they would be less inclined to pigeonhole us. We would all just be birds. So this long freaking ramble is to help me remember today at my Potluck Play that everyone has their story. That if I judge them I will never get those wings that I’ve been looking for. Happy 4th everyone.... please remember a designated driver if you need one.

“Never trust a thin chef.” -- Anonymous