Book Club
and
The Sixty-Something Social Circle

The more things change, the more they stay the same. During my youth (childhood?), I spent a lot of time babysitting my little brother. We lived in an area of town that was somewhat remote from my elementary school, and all of my friends lived within walking distance of school. I rode the bus. Unfortunately, there were no girls my age on my street at a time when age is a much bigger factor. So, while I babysat my brother, I spent a lot of time with the adults.
Flash forward many years… I go back to where I grew up, and I know two people my age who live around town. Two. I meet a couple of people over the ensuing months, but I spend the vast majority of my time with my mother’s friends. I love them. They’re crazy. I joke about joining “The Sixty-Something Social Circle” and AARP.
I was invited to book club several times, and I’ve attended a few meetings. In August my mother was supposed to host. Only it turned out that she would not be in town. I told everyone not to worry about changing the venue, we could still hold the meeting at my parents’ condo. I was told I only need to have the liquor and the place, two other people would be the cooks.
August’s book was Water For Elephants. Extremely entertaining. The basic synopsis is an elderly man in a nursing home remembering his youth when he worked on a circus. I bought peanuts in the shell and those orange circus peanut candies. I made lemonade and bought vodka, tequila, and a case of wine. There was CC, gin, and whisky already in the house.
The cooks showed up at 5:30 p.m. with a sign to hang on the door that said, “Sunnyvale Nursing Home.” One of the cooks went to spike the lemonade and asked me if that were all the vodka I had. I said yes. She picked up the brand-new bottle of Three Olives and started pouring it into the lemonade. “When you originally asked if that were all the vodka I had, I thought you were talking about that bottle,” I said, pointing to an almost empty bottle of Absolut that one of their friends had left the last time she’d visited. “No, I meant this one.” I twist the bottle in her hands and say, “But, this is 1.75 liters.” “But we drink A LOT!”
And so the evening went. The cooks donned scrubs and gave me a lab coat. People began to show up and were assigned a roommate and an affliction. For some reason, there were a lot of people who did something in the nude. Hmmmmm. Even though there were many women whose affliction was something in the nude: painting, cooking, singing, etc. I don’t remember having to cover my ears too much and yell, “Child present!” as is sometimes necessary when the conversation begins to wander….
So, the more things change, the more things stay the same. Well, maybe not exactly. I certainly don’t remember that much alcohol. Or better said, I know I wasn’t drinking alcohol. Maybe this whole situation just improves with age… like wine.