It’s Friday Night. The usual looks were exchanged between my spouse and I. We were uncertain what to do for the evening. This is not a rare occurrence. Our area has limited cultural events and even less entertainment options for a family of four. Even less opportunities when two of the family are under 18. Sighs were exchanged with our wordless communication of shrugs and glances. Our eleven-year-old pipes up, “ We could go to Trent’s!”
Trent is a school friend of his, and his parents are bus drivers for the same school. They also happen to be pretty good friends that we like to hang out with regularly. With this innocent statement from our son, the meaningful glances were exchanged once again. I think both of us are in a mood to go, but don’t want to seem overeager to take hospitality from them once again this weekend. Our prospects of any sort of fun activity are looking bleak if we stay home, so I say, “ I’ll give them a call.”
It turns out that the Trent Household had been thinking the same thoughts as the Shillings Household. Plans were cemented for an after dinner get together that included cocktails and cards at their house. We load up a small cooler of our favorite beverages, including some juice bags for the boys and make the short journey of literally, ‘over the river and through the woods.’ We get there and immediately after parking the boys scramble out of the backseat and race across the yard to their backdoor.
We forgo the usual ‘knock-knock’ and just go right in. They’ve been expecting us and would think it odd that we waited outside for them to answer the backdoor. They just holler, “Well, we’ve been waiting forever for you to get here!” Greetings are exchanged, and we settle in at the kitchen table. Our boys hop the security gate that keeps their small pet dog, Jack, in the kitchen. They head into Trent’s room. Excited chortling can then be heard through the living room, which is between them and us. They immediately start up the Xbox and very little chatting is heard after that.
We adults in the kitchen mimic the children’s behavior. Excited bits of our stories raise above the rest as we talk about our day, how things have been, how the kids are doing. Drinks are poured, tasted and shared and the television plays a pre-recorded concert of James Taylor in the background. The miracle of DVR has brought us right into his intimate concert. A recording made sometime in the past is made new and vibrant just for us, just for this moment. The notes to the song ‘Steam Roller’ float through the air, adding a rich depth to our conversation.
These bright notes of song add to the cheerful evening and provide a topic of conversation to everyone. Guitar players and musicians we are, or aspire to be, and watching Mr. Taylor play is an honor to be learned from. Within short order the deck of cards are brought out. The colorful, worn box opens easily, releasing its pre-sorted deck. Musical chairs for proper partner choices is played and then the sixes and fours for scoring are doled out. The remaining cards to be used are shuffled and dealt in threes and twos until everyone has a total of five cards.
Something so simple as a game of cards can often bring people together for companionship and friendship. It’s a fabulous thing to have a comfort level with another pair of humans. You don’t have to fear judgment when you really know them, and they you. They offer honest feedback and advice on your daily travails, child rearing issues or relationships. And we offer they same for them. We have in a way adopted each other into our respective families. For whatever reason, we seem to fit.
Two or three fast paced games of Euchre are played. Scoffing, but good natured, remarks about cheating or playing ability are made, but everyone has a good time and no clear winner is evident. Time passes quickly and bedtime for all approaches. The cards are finally laid down, children are gathered amidst persistent grumbles of resistance and the goodbyes ‘till next time are made. The drive home is seemingly subdued and quiet compared to the vibrant hours we had just passed. Glances are again exchanged – hard to see in the murky dash lights – but they say, “ We are glad we went, it was a good evening.”
