“Put your New Year’s resolutions in the jar,” says Melissa, one of the evening’s three party coordinators. “Then, we’ll read them aloud, and guess who made each resolution.”
The room is full— I count twenty-seven people sitting on chairs in the basement. We’re celebrating the arrival of a new decade with a big New Year’s Eve party and the appropriate festivities— food, games, music, and loud noise at midnight.
Three of my friends, Melissa, Regina, and Ada had decided to plan the party for our group to welcome 2020. Once word got out and responses began rolling in, they realized they were going to need a bigger place than any of their homes, so one guy volunteered his parents’ Airbnb house.
At 8 o’clock, the party begins. As soon we get in the door, a chalkboard sign instructs us to “hang your coat in the closet” and “place your White Elephant gifts in the dining room”.
I look at the dining room filled with gleaming, wrapped gifts. “I’m afraid my present is a bit junky”, I say to Lil, thinking of the cheap combs, flour sifter, and other bric-a-brac I brought along. Oh well, that’s what a White Elephant gift exchange is— a time to unload junk. My gift bag, which is from a museum and has a picture of King Tut’s sarcophagus, joins the others on the table and I go join the festivities in the kitchen. Soon I’m busy catching up with friends I haven’t seen in months.
Before we start eating, Regina explains the first game. “There’s clothespins hidden all over the house. When you find one, keep it. Whoever has the most clothespins at the end of the evening, wins a prize!”
I find several clothespins going through the food line. We feast on black bean salsa, pinwheel roll-ups, sausages, and other yummy food. Daniel makes lattes for whoever wants some. Normally, I never turn down coffee, but I’m suffering from a bad cold, and say no thanks.
During snack, Stan, who co-owns an apple orchard, begins talking about how dangerous the mild winter we’ve been having is to fruit trees— such as the risk that the fruit trees will bud too early.
“There’s nothing worse than seeing frost on fruit buds,” says Stan. “But we’ve worked out a deal with a nearby airport if there’s a danger of frost when the trees have budded. For a thousand dollars an hour, they’ll bring out a helicopter and hover over the orchard. That will keep the air moving and the buds won’t freeze.”
“I had no idea that you could use a helicopter to save fruit buds.” I say. Learning fascinating things like that is a great reason to hang out with friends.
Pretty soon, it’s time to head to the basement for games and the White Elephant gift exchange. We draw numbers and select gifts one by one. Once the gifts start getting unwrapped, I don’t worry about my bric-a-brac anymore.
Joel gets a CD with lullabies. Marlin gets a water bottle and a set of air fresheners. Emily snags a 2005 planner with bad hair pictures. MarDelton gains a pair of pants large enough to put both him and his girlfriend Jenny in. Alicia gets a book titled, Out of Mormonism, which makes everyone laugh, although there’s nothing humorous about the book— it just seems so out of place.
Following the White Elephant exchange, Melissa began to read the resolutions and we have to guess who wrote what. Some are generic— “Waste less time.” “Get out of bed earlier.” Some are more specific— “I want to be a better cook.” “Get a pilot’s license.” “Learn to play guitar.”
One resolution causes a dilemma: How do you kindly decide who’s goal is to “lose twenty pounds?”
As midnight nears, some people watch the festivities on screen broadcast from Times Square. I pull on some warm clothing and head outside to watch several of the guys welcome in the New Year by firing their hunting rifles. Some of the girls take turns firing the guns, too. We’re outside of town, so there’s no danger. Erny blows a shofar horn he bought back from a trip to Israel.
After the ball drops in the city and the guns fire in country, we gather in the living room. “We’ll have a praise and worship time” says Ada. I planned to go home right after midnight, but I want to stay for the singing and to see who gets the final prizes of the evening.
One of the dating couples, Abram and Linda (who met when I took Linda with me one Sunday afternoon), stand up and announce they’re engaged to be married in October. Everyone claps and cheers. Appropriately enough, they win the clothespin gathering game— I suspect collaboration.
Two guys and two girls start playing guitars, and soon we’re all singing. Someone passes out saddle-stitched songbooks filled with old gospel songs like “Step Into the Water” and “Thank You, Mama, for Praying for Me”. They’re songs like we used to sing back at Penn Johns School. Maybe it’s just me, but I notice we have an easier time singing the old-timey gospel hymns than modern praise songs. Ha! Guess we never get too far from our roots.
About 1:30 a.m., we quit singing, and the party seems to be wrapping up. It’s time to say my good-byes (or my “Happy New Year’s”) and head home. I make sure I hug one friend because I know she is planning to go to the Middle East soon to start working with refugees.
What a treasure it is to have Christian friends— friends to laugh and talk with, but more importantly, friends to worship with, and to welcome the future, together, with joy.
That’s a neat tip about the helicopter and fruit trees.
You never know when the knowledge might come in handy.