Friday afternoon was spent preparing for the party. I always like to get together with college buddies whenever I go back to NoVA. In the old days, this consisted of the bar scene in either Alexandria or Georgetown, and we stayed out until all hours of the night. College buddies would come out of the woodwork, put their lives on hold, and proceed to enjoy the festivities of the evening.
Gradually, that festive mood began to die down, and that was never more obvious than last night. The party was over by 10 pm. Why this change has happened is the best part of the story.
See, as we all have grown older, our priorities have shifted. We have been through the days of unbridled single lives, each of us competing (or so I thought) to be the most single of the group. Then everyone started to embark on serious relationships. One by one the guys fell and started to move out of the public sphere of debauchery and take to a quieter, more satisfying life with a partner that brought out the best in all of us. Eben put it best last night when he said, �there�s someone out there for everyone.� A good number of us have found that someone, and I, at least, am better off for the discovery.
As the relationships began to get more serious and the gatherings moved from the bar to the restaurant, murmurs of matrimony made their way around the crowd. One by one, the former bastions of bachelorhood fell to the timeless allure of our female counterparts. We courted, we proposed, we planned weddings, we attended weddings (and bachelor parties, the last desperate act of single guys ceasing their former lives), we bought houses. Through it all we learned that true happiness comes with companionship, that our women meant more to us than the late nights and the ever-lengthening hangovers. We discovered that our parents weren�t crazy, and we realized that we, too, were growing older.
Now that the marriage wave has almost passed, we find our wives bearing our children, and, again, our lives are changing. Suddenly we are responsible for the upbringing of new human beings, children who will look to us to explain to them the mysteries of life and the wonders of the world. From changing diapers to coaching little league, we will become our fathers and carry on the grand tradition that has been given to us. And yet, through it all, we will still be the same guys who stormed the bars and closed them down with seemingly endless vivacity. It is up to us to mold our future and pass our stories, traditions, beliefs, and sports teams to the next generation.
Anyway, so some college buddies came to my parents� house, and we had a little cookout. Five guys had become five couples, two with babies and three with babies on the way. We conversed with each other, and I realized, as I hovered over the burgers on the grill, that we have grown closer over the years as we have watched each other discover their true ambitions and selves. These are some of my best friends.
All right, enough sap. The party ended at ten, and we (my parents and I) spent the next hour and a half cleaning up. The highlight of the party seemed to be my mother�s homemade (from scratch!) potato salad. The secret is to put some apples in it.
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