Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, January 1, 1993 TAG: 9212300164
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV3 EDITION: HOLIDAY
SOURCE: BETH OBENSHAIN NEW RIVER VALLEY BUREAU (staff)
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
WHAT A PARTY!
AH, New Year's.That most pretentious time of year when we exaggerate - oh, all right, we lie - about the glamorous plans we have for partying the holiday away.
You can't just admit to everyone in the office that you were planning to be in bed by midnight. Or even worse, that you would be awake but have no one but your dog to kiss when the clock strikes twelve.
Then there's New Year's Day when you have to watch 47 zillion football games so you can talk stats with the macho types at the office Monday.
So what's the solution?
How do you get a life on New Year's? And do it without partying with folks you don't even like sober?
This is one of life's problems for which I actually have an answer.
Every year for the past 15 years, a small group of longtime friends have planned ahead, rearranged our lives and traveled for hours so we could be together that one weekend each year.
We now live hundreds of miles apart, scattered from Nashville to Washington, D.C.
We go for months, sometimes the entire year, without seeing each other or even catching up on the phone.
But on New Year's Eve, we pull into someone's driveway and the best party of the year begins. Despite the 364 days apart, we've known each other so long and so well that the minute we all arrive, the laughter and talk starts and carries on in layers non-stop for the next two days.
As life goes these days, the original four couples who started the celebrating are now down to 2 1/2.
We've added another couple - also longtime friends - to replace the first pair whose marriage went awry.
The partying used to be easy because we all lived in the same city. Now we're scattered in three states.
But the distances and the time apart just enhance the sense of celebration when we gather on New Year's Eve.
It helps that all of these people are funny. And several are gourmet cooks. And the guys like to pontificate about fine wines.
The first night, we dress up - well, at least we get out of our sweats and blue jeans - and have a formal dinner, champagne and lots of table talk until the witching hour.
Then the next day, we talk more and more and more in between long walks, idle snatches of football games and - oh, alright, I'll admit it - maybe a few shopping outings.
In two days, we catch up on each other's lives for the past year, analyzing job changes, the political climate, talking through the ups and downs of our marriages and relationships - providing the sympathetic ear and counsel that only the best of friends can offer.
The moveable feast also continues. We have leftovers from New Year's Eve plus everyone's favorite foods that they've brought with them. It's holiday decadence at its best and most fattening.
Then reluctantly, on Jan. 2, we pack up and head home.
The laughter of the last two days has been therapy for any bumps or lumps we've suffered in the previous year.
We may not talk for another 11 months, but the ties that bind are still there.
So if you cruise by my little house in Blacksburg today and notice everything looks slightly askew, it's just because the best party of the year is going on inside.