Entertaining in the South, Ya'll

[Note: Published first in the 1990s when I had a writing gig with a local newspaper in Savannah. I thought of it, perhaps dated in details, yesterday when I was in charge of eight handsome Super Waiters who served at our United Methodist Women luncheon at Highlands United Methodist Church. This is a personal nod to their time, talent, and tenacity--qualities of service espoused by our very talented speaker, Pam Huff. Afterwards, Reggie Holder and I decided another quality which serves waiters well in this situation is a good sense of humor.]

Southern women would entertain more frequently if husbands and children complied with these three cardinal rules:  On the day of a party the house must appear to be a place where no one lives; guests will enter every room and open every drawer and closet;  and, most importantly,  those who actually do live in the house are not allowed to enjoy the party.
The first rule may be the hardest.  After all, eating, sleeping, bathing and the like must go on even on the day of a party.  But remember, your guests must perceive that by some miracle all of you have put bodily functions on hold for the duration.
Eat if you must, but under no circumstances should you leave dishes unrinsed and in the sink.  Shove them into the dishwasher.  Or better still,  use paper products. Cereal may be hard, I know, but possible.  Most cereal when soggy tastes like paper anyway. If you should use paper, discard it in an outside garbage can.  Don’t make the mistake of throwing it into the usual trusty compactor; all garbage receptacles, too, must appear unused.
And woe to the unlucky soul who drops a crumb or who spills a drop of coffee on the cut work lace tablecloth which has been starched, sprinkled, and waiting in the refrigerator for over six months to be ironed just for this special event.  (My friend, Ann Taylor) holds the record here; once she kept a sprinkled tablecloth in the freezer for four years in dread of ironing it.)
Granted the family should be allowed to sleep in their beds the night before, but it goes without saying that all beds shall not only be made, but the covers should be so tightly drawn and wrinkle-free that the thought of sitting down on a bed  to, let’s say, put on a sock, would seem sinful.
Bathing creates the worst logistics.  Do not assume that guests will not wander into that upstairs bathroom, no matter how remote.  I have lived in a house with four toilets and, while entertaining,  have had each in use simultaneously; therefore, damp towels and dripping shower doors must be considered.
One simple solution is to insist that the family bathe the night before.  Or you could turn off the water to the bathrooms until just before the guests arrive.  But if your husband should have some last-minute landscaping that he has put off for six months, or if you have to clean the fish he has caught that day yourself, perhaps baths might be in order.  In that case, mop up the shower with your towel and deposit used towels inside, not on top of, the washer.
Now, there are bathrooms and there are powder rooms.  In the South we powder our noses whereas Yankees, I think, simply use the bathroom.  If you are fortunate enough to have a separate powder room, make it off-limits at all times to children and husbands. It will save much gnashing of teeth when you find those starched lacy hand towels soiled, and your heart-shaped raspberry soap facing the wrong way.
As to the business of having fun at one’s own party, don’t do it.  Your major function at the party is to see that the guests are having a good time.  Do not eat anything until everyone there has been served to capacity.  Nibbling is about all you can afford to do all night.  If you find yourself actually eating food, look around you.  There is probably a guest somewhere who needs a fresh drink or  who needs his plate taken to the kitchen.
And if a spurt of enjoyment floods over you, beware.  You are probably dominating the conversation and boring your guests.   Show me a host who is belly-laughing, and I’ll show you at least three guests who are saying, “Ho-hum.”
Provide your guests a lead-in; engaging others in conversation is not difficult.  For example, you might intimate to an artist  that you would like to know more about how he mixes his colors.  You may have to extricate yourself from him after thirty minutes to serve someone another drink, but he will be having the time of his life.  Remember that the ultimate joy comes from talking about oneself.  Inquire as to the gardener’s ginger tree; ask the lawyer about his on-going case, or the sailor about his around-the-world cruise.
Never mind that you may have some interesting tidbits to talk about.  Save those.  When you are a guest, then you can talk.
Since I have given this problem of entertaining a great deal of thought, and since I usually give anybody the benefit of the doubt, I suspect children and husbands so often fall short in this area because of the inconsistency of the thing.  As important as remembering the cardinal rules and adhering to them,  is the forgetting of all of the above as soon as the first guest arrives.
True, you should never be caught dead telling a guest that there are rules in this house governing the use of  the powder room.  And the business about the unlived- in look; forget all that.  If a guest inquires about the placement of his coat... “Oh, just toss it anywhere” should be your reply.
If someone spills something...”Oh, don’t worry.  That stain will come right out.”
Under no circumstances should one hiss under his breath, “That’s not what she said an hour ago.”
So, gals, if you find that you owe everyone in your social set at the very least a cocktail party, if not a full-fledged sit-down brunch or dinner, simply whip those children and husbands into line.  Before you know it, you’ll be immersed in writing invitations, and in sorting through your 999 recipes for cheese grits.
That is, if you are Southern. I’m not at all certain, but these may be regional rules.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An Open Letter: The Tongue of the Wise

My Say: The Second Book

A Mother's Day Prayer by Reverend Emily Freeman Penfield, Pastor, Woodlawn United Methodist Church