Entertaining

Joan L. Cannon wrote: I went to my own 40th high school reunion and my 50th college one. It was that one that made me swear off that kind of gathering. The first problem is that we know that we're in for surprises both pleasant and not so much. It seems these gatherings force an automatic exercise in comparisons. Every attendee has to face unstated competition as intense as that for college acceptance; it's just based on different criteria. How have I aged in appearance compared with my classmates? Can I match the average for marriage, number of children, implied income, social status, renown?   more »

Margaret Cullison writes: I suffered from cake envy after attending a friend’s birthday party when I was six or seven years old. She had an April birthday, and her cake that year looked like a lamb with white frosting and coconut curled fur. The cake completely enchanted me. I knew my friend’s mother hadn’t made the cake herself. We always had homemade birthday cakes at home, but that didn’t impress me nearly as much as the magic of Sandy’s lamb cake. more »

As I'd watch each [friend] enter her kitchen, pull a mug from a cabinet, and pour her hot drink, I felt as if I had been reunited with a long-lost sister. But it wasn't DNA that matched us, simply years of traveling together through life's joys and sorrows. A trio of these friends had known me through first marriage and divorce, and all cleaved to me through my second husband's illness and death. We'd bring each other up-to-date on the goings on during the nearly five months since I departed from my longtime home. And even though I chat frequently with these friends, and view Facebook status reports, these early morning kitchen conversations were as precious as an heirloom. more »

Julia Sneden wrote: The name Grandabbie was my own invention. I don’t remember how I came up with the solution of combining Grandmother and Abbie into what was to become her label for life. From that time on, we called her Grandabbie, and so did all our friends and most of our neighbors. Poor Grandabbie: she used to tell me: “All my life, I looked forward to being called Grandmother. It’s a beautiful word. But then,” she would sigh, “I hadn’t reckoned with you.” more »