Party

I haven’t had a birthday party in a long time. Not since my 21st. I’ve been out to dinner with friends or something each year – it’s not as though my days have been devoid of revelry and merriment, but it’s been a while since I had a full-blown-accidentally-coat-my-mum-in-beer celebration. (This was due to my losing money – my friend SB and I were notorious motorcycle maniacs. There was a betting pool on whether I’d make it to 21. I did. I lost $100. But SB was stoked…)

Next year, without meeting an early demise, I’m going to have a proper party. Other than elections, the major stumbling block for me has been that I have a (fairly small but) very diverse group of friends.

How on earth can I create an environment where my motorcycle racing cronies feel like they have something in common with interweb-addicted ubergeeks? How will the drug-addled hedonists possibly connect with evangelical Christians from Bunbury? How will capitalism-smashing Greens bond with resource-pillaging McDonald’s mates? How could anyone from my family not be offended in conversations with Sabian?

In a desperate attempt to address this, I’ve conjured a way to have all of these people break the ice a little ahead of time. The inspiration for this hit me in a Fitzroy bookshop.

I’m going to write an open, honest letter to each of my guests – describing to them why they are one of the most loved and important people in my life. I’m then going to seal the letter in an unmarked bag, and randomly post it to another guest.

Hopefully, the recipient will learn a little more about me, but a lot more about the other attendee – giving them at least one person from another world to talk to.

Or all the excuse they need not to come.