It’s a dark time in our country, with the price of gas up high and so the cost of sending B-52s to bomb another country is making Wall Street nervous, and anyone throwing a party in April has to wonder what the festivity level will be and will all that pricey champagne go undrunk as people stand around moaning about the bad news we get constantly because the phone is right there in our pocket. Everybody needs a good party now and then and I mean serious silliness, not just wry irony.
By “good party” I mean one where people get giddy on a glass of something and then the music starts and it’s loud enough to shut down conversation and it’s a song from when you were 16 and suddenly you’re immature again and everyone dances with their hands in the air and sings Van Morrison’s great O O O my brown-eyed girl, do you remember when we used to sing, SHA LA LA LA LA LA LA DE DA LA LA DE DA. And even the guests who are in their 80s know the words because it’s from 1967 when they were twentyish. Old people are dancing wildly who didn’t think they could dance due to hip replacements and their neurologist recommended against it and pretty soon we’re singing — Help me if you can, I’m feeling down, and I do appreciate you being ’round. Help me get my feet back on the ground and minutes ago we were responsible citizens concerned about birthright citizenship and now we’re wild pagans at a fertility festival.
