Monday 29 September 2003

Saturday night I attended a nice dinner party. I was one of eight people there, three men and five women. Supper was grilled salmon and potatoes, onions, and carrots grilled in foil with butter. Beer and pop were served, but I thought the fruitiness of the draft hard apple cider also available would bring a nice balance to the fish. Conversation circled about the eight of us, topics including how each of us were doing, jokes, sexuality, goals, and work. It was a very nice time.

It was very adult, for lack of a better term. The odd thing about the party: I was the only person in attendance over the age of nineteen.

Last month after writing about Renee's letter, I thought of her and sent her an email. I learned in her reply that school for her was starting a month later than for anyone else around here. She invited me to attend the Great River Folk Festival that weekend as she was giving demonstrations in throwing pottery. I went and we shared a half-hour together while she threw. She said she'd make something for me, glaze it and bake it in a kiln. It was very kind of her.

This past Thursday, she emailed again saying she was leaving for San Diego soon and that she'd had a gift for me. We met in a coffee shop in La Crosse, and we shared pleasantries. As she gave me a lift home Renee gave me a large coffee mug that she'd thrown during the Folk Fest.

I told her I never knew what I'd done to deserve such kindness from her, but she let me know it was because I'd given her such support throughout high school, that I helped her reach her goals, that I was one of the most influential people in her life. She also said Rachel was throwing her a going-away party and she'd hoped that I'd be there.

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