My mother asked me to write this essay eight years ago.
I have two speeds at getting things done: right now or probably never. I say “probably” because approximately 1% of neglected tasks get resurrected.
Sarah Grey is one of those writers who makes me want to quit writing because she is SO smart and has said all the things I want to say, but in a sharper, more eloquent way. I, on the other hand, continue to stab words together like overdressed lettuce on a slippery plastic fork.
You can read Sarah’s brilliant original here.
Sarah’s concept is deceptively simple: Friday Night Meatballs. A bright spot of community in an increasingly harried society, jam-packed with soccer practice, swim lessons, music class, and meetings, meetings, meetings. (How much of our wild, precious life do we waste in meetings?)
Back in 2015, inspired by Sarah’s words, we held an impromptu Saturday Night Meatballs as a way for my then-fiancé (now husband!) to meet my large, overwhelming family all at once. My mom handled the sauce, the meatballs, the noodles, and everyone else just had to show up. We broke bread, we drank wine, we ate so much pasta, and we just… talked. Without the pressure of a holiday, or gift giving, or a specific script to follow, we laughed and shared and bonded. Jason, who’s patently awful at remembering names, performed admirably, and even now, eight years later, we can recall the instant comfort, the easy camaraderie we all slipped into in that space.
Friday Night Meatballs is signal in a world of noise. I fantasized about Friday Meatballs when I first read about it, a simple, standing gathering, evoking memories of the close, loud Italian family I miss desperately because I now live eight hundred miles from Grandma’s house.
Jessica St. Clair and June Diane Raphael lovingly discuss a community tradition they’ve started, Sunday morning Pickleball, on their always-entertaining podcast, The Deep Dive. Friends show up when they can, dressed in their Pickleball finest, but it’s so much more than a workout or athletic competition. It’s about the people who keep coming back, the friendships and the bonds and the casual banter. The pressure is off because it’s a ritual. When it’s Sunday, there will be Pickleball.
Do I need to learn what Pickleball is? Since I’m in Minnesota, hockey is probably more appropriate, but given my clumsiness and aversion to cold, that’s a hard no. Sunday Night Meatballs seems a little more attainable, but will people be up for a ‘family’ dinner without the family part? Will I actually be able to relinquish control and go with the flow, ignoring schedules and structures in favor of an open-ended hang? Will I actually get my $h*t together to invite people, manage the guest list, and make it happen?
I’m hoping I can pull it off in 2023 (or at least before another eight years has flown by). If any of this resonates with you, let me know! I’d love to hear both struggles and successes as you search for community in 2023 and beyond. I am wishing you and yours a merry, bright season and a wonderful start to the new year.
