his is the time of the year when there is so much going on, we almost feel like it’s a holiday season of sorts. Someone called the month of May “Mayember” the other day because they said with all the graduations and such going on, it felt like they were getting ready for Christmas.

I remember a sitcom episode from the early days of our marriage. I call it a sitcom episode because, looking back, I can almost hear the canned laughter.  

It was probably my fourth or fifth year of teaching, and I was the drama advisor for our high school, which opened up a whole new world of dealing with older kids and being invited, somewhat, into their world. It was something I didn’t think I was going to enjoy, but I did. On top of that, we helped out with the youth group a little, which opened our world again to more relationships with the high school bunch at our church.

We were invited to quite a few graduation parties that year. In my memory, I think there were five parties on a particular Saturday.  We decided we’d drop in on each one and stay for just a short while. I can recall traveling to each house, congratulating the graduate and talking with his or her parents, and then visiting with other folks at the party whom we knew. 

We were extremely poor in those years, so I am at a loss for what we would have taken to each of our young friends as a graduation present, but I’m sure it was something modest yet heartfelt.  

Probably a McDonald’s gift card.

I can’t really recall what time the parties started, but I know that day we decided not to eat lunch. We had planned to do the whole party circuit and would, later in the evening, wind up at the Old Spaghetti Factory with friends. It was purposely a later supper time, as we wanted to stick around at each party for a respectable amount of time.

I do think we managed a bottle of water or two at each party, and that was a good thing as there was never an absence of people to talk to. I’m sure I got hungry before Michelle did, and I can remember eyeing various treats and appetizers at a few of the parties while trying to stay enraptured by the conversations around us. 

It may have been out of shyness or a desire to make people think we were healthy or something, but we didn’t have food of any kind at the first two parties, and it wasn’t that painful.  With each passing party, we found ourselves running out of time to stay and were forced to travel to the next party to stay on our schedule. 

By the time we arrived at the last party, I was determined to get a snack of some kind because I was starting to get, as the British say, “peckish.” I can see the house and even recall some of the people standing around.  I looked in vain for any treats sitting around; there were none. 

Apparently, we were part of an unusual chain of events: we were there earlier than most guests,  the graduation cake and cupcakes had been delayed due to a scheduling snafu and an angry grandmother was at the bakery threatening the baker with his life.  The family had ordered pizza also, and a large number of pizzas with special toppings.  

Everything edible should arrive in around 40 minutes.

We were only staying at each party for about half an hour and had already been there for about 10 minutes.

I decided to man up and started thinking about the wonderful things I would order at the Old Spaghetti Factory. Luckily, I had a bottle of water I snagged from the last party, and so I swigged down the now warm H2O and dreamed of garlic bread and cheese and pasta.

Our friends we were supposed to meet were delayed about half an hour (this was beginning to be a pattern and there were no cell phones in our lives then), and by the time we took a little walk along The Landing, we finally made it into the restaurant. I was weak from hunger, and I staggered over to one of the antique couches, which was already occupied.  

As I looked around the room, I noticed quite a crowd of people waiting to go in. 

Luckily, I knew Michelle and our other female friend had called for reservations.

Then, I heard the “no, I thought you were” conversation and my heart dropped into my empty stomach. I noticed several large crowds of people, some in fancy clothing, and realized everyone in St. Louis was at the restaurant celebrating something.

I dragged myself to a corner where they could still identify my body after I expired. I won’t tell you how long we waited to get a table or how long I argued (pleaded) that we go somewhere else to eat.

I will tell you I was ready to sign divorce papers when Michelle said “Oh, you aren’t that hungry!”

When our food finally arrived, I was at the point where I would have gladly cleared tables for the staff and eaten the leftovers of total strangers.

Thank goodness for complimentary crackers.