I really love throwing a good party, and I have been organizing and hosting gatherings both personally and professionally for nearly 40 years. One of the first events I ever hosted was a housewarming party. My now ex-husband and I had bought a brand new tract home in a starter neighborhood.

We were thrilled to be homeowners. It was March in Phoenix and I was heavily pregnant. My daughter was two years old and my son was due in a few short weeks.

I had worked for days to get our new home clean and organized. We had decorated and covered the folding tables in lovely linens, and they were laden with trays of food prepared by my mother and myself.

 

Everyone was showered and dressed. It was nearly time for guests to arrive. We were expecting 40 or 50 people and I was feeling a bit nervous, but I was really pleased we were so prepared. “Hmmm,” I thought. “This is suspicious.”

 

Drinks? I checked the ice, cups, and coolers. It was all good to go.

 

Food? I surveyed the tables. It all looked great. I even checked the refrigerator to make sure I didn’t forget to put anything out. Plates, napkins, flatware. It was all ready.

Décor? All in place. Everything looked simply amazing.

 

Music? We had some groovy tunes playing on the 8-track.

There were comfortable places to hang out, games in the backyard, extra toilet paper in the exceptionally clean bathroom, and my daughters room was prepared to entertain her friends. The doorbell rang and we were ready to party.

 

We opened the door and welcomed people into our home. It was clear our friends and family were very happy for us and everyone was having a great time. As the house became more crowded it really started to warm up. I asked my then-spouse to flip on the evaporative cooler, which he dutifully did.

 

We had never turned the cooler on before, so we had no idea that when the homebuilder had installed the popcorn ceiling, the ducts had filled with little bits and flakes of overspray. When the cooler made its debut that day, the fan came on fast and strong and blew a fine white powder over everybody and everything in every room of the house. The blower was quickly turned off, but it was too late.

 

Everyone was white-headed and white-faced. Children were crying, women were wide-eyed and speechless, and my brother was laughing so hard he was crying. The food was ruined, and everything felt gritty.

 

We stood around, dazed, looking at each other. My own personal apocalypse. It wasn’t until my father asked loudly “Do you think this is asbestos?” that people began to quietly and quickly leave.

 

Yep. That was the fastest party I ever hosted.

 

Given my inauspicious beginnings it is sort of astounding that to this day I still enjoy organizing events and gatherings of all kinds. I love celebrations of all types and I think even when it goes wildly wrong it can create a memory that you get to share with others. That sort of sharing builds connections between people and those connections are what link people together.