To the Protege: So, Who Was the Host?
Halloween...Thanksgiving...Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa...
This first one—Halloween—was easy. Just pass out some candy or go to a costume party. Remember to put away masks (see: "Love Your Costume" for instructions). The others, not so much: Lots of dinner tables, gifts, rituals...family, family, family, and then there's family. Sometimes there are a few friends invited who stand on the sidelines while you do...family.
So, with Thanksgiving now behind us, it was just a warm-up. And with the Yuletide season before us, with all the people-rich events, I have a question for you: "Who was the Host?" No, not the person who invited you to dinner. Not the one who owns the house. Not the person who sat at the head of the table or paid the bill at the restaurant. Usually those are the people we point out as the answer to the question.
But I am asking a different question: Who was THE host at the event, at the table?
Often, the "hostess with the mostest" happens to be the inviter, the cook or the person seated at the head of the table. Their temples may be tinged with a touch of silver-gray. They may be the patriarch or matriarch of the group. That's the traditional view. However, we all know that at such events the people who tend to make the most lasting impression at the event are often the ones with the loudest mouths, the strongest opinions, the most alcohol consumed, the one with the biggest grudge against the world, or the person seated nearest by. It’s at those parties where the resentment and envy are served cold while the turkey and mash potatoes are served hot, that imprint of the most indelible memories (albeit negative ones). In such times, the party becomes a hostage situation, in which the happier members of the lot are at the mercy of the angriest, most fearful, or saddest.
There's always bad news in the air, just like bad weather. And large gatherings of well-meaning people, none necessarily intending it, can easily be hijacked and drawn down to the size of the smallest mind and matter that evokes the most heat and reaction. In such times, social gatherings invite leadership. Someone needs to host the social mood.
I am proposing that person be you.
Rather than stew, react, or capitulate, lead. You host. If no clear direction for the betterment of all emerges, what would it look like if you proposed a toast? What if you chose a song? What if you whipped out your iPhone, found a season or occasion-appropriate poem or story, and calm the attention of all with a tap on your glass, and announce, "And now...a reading for your good cheer and our welfare this season."
I know what you are thinking. Aunt Shelly would have a conniption fit. Uncle Fred would grouse, "Who died and made you boss?!" The teenagers would groan, "Oh no, just what this party was missing, a poetry reading..."
Courage. They would be right. It needed a reading, and no one appointed you and Aunt Shelly...well...she may return to being who she is, BUT only after you have laid a cornerstone for the evening that says, "Enough of being un-interesting with trifling attitudes of subtraction and lament." Most of the negative lot will not know what to do after you are done reading, or singing. Most of the teens (secretly to themselves, of course) will think: "So, that's how you do that...that didn't hurt at all." In the best of groups, if you end with, "Who else has something they would like to contribute to this evening of fun, family, and fellowship?" you may find you have given permission for deep positive feelings to be expressed, and for the new norm of the night to follow.
And remember...you can always do what the best teachers know to do: call on someone. Say, "Uncle Fred...tell us about that time when you and my dad were kids..." or “Aunt Shelly, what's your favorite song from this time of year?” Since her protests are about getting attention anyway, help her enjoy attention that is positive in nature. In her emotional immaturity, complaining may be all she has ever had to work with.
I love the line in that haunting Vince Guaraldi tune, which has been placed in the mouths of the Peanuts cartoon characters for more than 50 years now, called "Christmastime:" "Oh that we, could always see, such spirit through the year." I think we, not only Charlie Brown and Snoopy, wish we could see such spirit too.
So...as this holiday season comes, with all its chances to convert the superficial banter into the substantial, the question is no longer "Who was the Host," but "Who is going to be the Host?"
Sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is offer clear-headed conversation as one pointing to the good, the better, and the best. Sometimes, the one who invited, or who owns the home, or who is on the hook for the bill is desperate for someone to "host" the conversation toward good thoughts and good cheer.
Will you become the host of the next conversation?
