My friend Sixty will be moving away in a few weeks; I am so sad. We have become very close during this past year. In her honor, I invited a few friends and neighbors to a Whine and Geez Party at my house last night.
Here’s the way it works: Everyone brings her own personal favorite whine. When one person’s turn rolls around, everyone else listens and nods and then, all together, the guests shake their heads and bring forth the “Geez!” Other comments are usually thrown in, such as, “That’s too bad” and “You poor thing” and “Unbelievable!” Snacks and drinks may or may not be served, depending on when and where the gathering takes place. The best part is that whoever brings the best whine wins! The competition is always keen, as no one wants to go home empty-handed. The winner is determined by measuring the amount of tears or head-shaking (or both) generated by her story, and the prize is Unlimited Amounts of Sympathy.
The Whine and Geez Party is similar to the Pity Party. The difference is that a Pity Party usually only has one attendee, Misery. Although that IS a fun way to indulge oneself, it is SO much better to include others because, of course, Misery loves company.
I think all the guests enjoyed themselves at Sixty’s going-away party. Personally, I had embraced her in spite of initial reservations. Although we have had our ups and downs, we have become friends, and I truly hate to see her leave the neighborhood. The year has been challenging in many ways, but it has also been quite productive. That’s why, as hard as I tried, I did not win the Sympathy prize. In fact, my story did not even elicit a single tear among the guests, all of whom had sadder states of affairs than my own.
When Sixty was almost ready to go, she told me that she will soon be introducing me to someone new. It turns out that one of her siblings will be moving into her house, and she wants us to become friends. Her name is Syxtie Wunne. I have heard of her, and I have to say not all of the report is good. However, I will try to reserve judgment until I have spent some time with her.
My other friend, Grace, has been trying to convince me that eventually I will have to admit the necessity of “aging” with her. I am still unsure about that (in spite of the fact that, after wondering why so many “old people” were inviting me to their Sunday School classes, I finally saw myself in the mirror!).
Desiring comfort, I sought the scriptures. For once, I was not encouraged. You can see for yourself that in the twenty-seventh chapter of Leviticus, the value of a female between the ages of twenty and sixty was set at thirty shekels. At sixty, her value decreased to ten shekels. The Psalmist was no help either. He could have been a real downer last night with this one: “The length of our days is seventy years — or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.”
All together now . . . “GEEZ!”