Surprise 50th in California

“Screw the economic down-turn. We need a vacation.” That was the thought.

But where could we go where it wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg? California, of course, where we have lots of friends with whom we can stay, thus eliminating hotel costs. Plus, we hadn’t been back in over two years. As luck would have it, Mexicana had just reinstated their Leon to Oakland direct flight and ticket prices were the lowest they had been in five years.

A flurry of emails ensued. I tried to plan the trip so that we were not at any one friend’s home for more than three days; remembering the old adage “Guests are like fish, after three days they begin to smell.” In Mexico the saying is, “Guests are like Mariachis, you’re happy when they arrive and happy when they leave.” (If you’ve ever been to a party where Mariachis performed, you understand.)

Following my elaborate schedule, day three put us at Bob and Karen’s home. That evening we were scheduled to have drinks at Stew and Lynn’s house and then we would all go out to dinner. “I think you’ll like this place,” Bob said, “Not too fancy but the food is really good.”

Earlier that day I had stopped at the Market Hall deli in Rockridge, and picked up my favorite pâté and a baguette. Stew greeted us at the door and I managed to blurt out, “I brought a baguette . . .” when he cut me off and said, “I’m sure in some cultures that’s very nice.” Snatching the baguette out of my hand he directed us through their grand entryway toward the family room at the back of the house.

I had heard that Lynn was suffering from a terrible bout of shingles in her eyes, so I wasn’t surprised to see the doors to the family room shut. “Poor Lynn,” I thought, “Sitting in there in the dark.”

Stew opened the door and ushered me in. My eyes landed on Patti first, delighted that she was joining us. (A wonderful surprise but one that I would expect.) But then my eyes panned the room and I realized that it was a semi-circle of people. Not only Patti but Mike, Robert, Rudy, Dean (whose home we had just left that day), Bob, Bridget, Glenn . . . I was dumbstruck for a moment. The thought passed, “But there were no cars out front.”

Then someone said “Surprise” or “Happy birthday” or I can’t really remember what. (Rudy wanted to say that it was in intervention but held himself back.) I just couldn’t get my head around it being a birthday party because my birthday was yet three months away.

As I took in the crowd my eyes started to glass over. I’d never, in my life, had a surprise party. I was overwhelmed.

The evening was a whirlwind of fine food, wine and champagne. There were elaborate hors d’oeuvres, crab cocktail, sword fish, filet mignon; the kitchen a production line of the finest food California has to offer, prepared by some of the finest amateur chefs (my friends).

After dinner we moved to the formal living room where I received enough gifts of wine and champagne to last the rest of our two-week trip. I was then presented with a book of memories; not only photographs but statements or testimonials from both friends in the U.S. and Mexico. I began to cry and couldn’t stop. The pages blurred and I had to put the book down to finish another time.

When the evening was finally over and we returned to Bob and Karen’s house, I couldn’t sleep. I pulled out my journal and wrote a thank you note to my hosts, to be emailed the next day. When I re-read it, it sounds cliché, with phrases like, “life changing,” and “bottom of my heart.” But it is still true. It would take a writer far better than I to adequately describe the wave of emotions that I felt that night.

And I still can’t get through the book without crying.

(I wonder whatever happened to the pâté?)