I remember a time when there would be parties every Friday or Saturday night at different selected locations on our block. My parents would go to a party or have one at our house. I remember the way they dressed and the way they danced. I even remember the drinks that each would drink. These parties were called cocktail parties, not a reference to a rooster’s plume.
My dad would drink whiskey, my mom vodka and gin, my uncle Donald would drink tequila, and his wife of the moment whatever she could abide. We child like types would wander amongst the adults with our cokes and cakes pretending to be all grown up. Not that I should mention this, but when you’re pretending to be all grown up wandering around the grown ups wearing your footy pajamas with Spiderman printed on them your dignity takes a little plunge. However, this was at the age when dignity was being able to control urinary functions until it was time to get up in the morning.
At this age I remember my father wearing suit coats allot. White shirts and skinny ties were the fad along with penny loafers and argyle socks; grown ups were the statement of fashion. We little pretend grown ups wore short pants, tee shirts, and converse sneakers when they were the original white.
I remember every adult at that time smoking. My mom smoked Winston’s, and my dad smokes Camels without filters. What a disgusting habit. I’m so glad I never took up the stinky thing there’s way too much pollution in the world already. I’m the only person in the family that never took up such a dangerous habit, Thank God.
Every weekend a party would start and the adults would play. We kids would pretend and the block would become one big family. Bad habits, booze, and dancing have brought many a community together throughout history; I wonder just what kind of cocktail could solve our countries present economic woes? One with mango juice perhaps, one may never know?