In less than two weeks, I’ll be flying to Nashville, Tenn., for my older sister’s wedding. Of course, I’m excited.
I’ve been looking forward to the wedding for a while now, for the obvious reasons. I’m very happy for my sister, and who doesn’t love a good wedding? My sister also placed me in charge of music for the reception — a decision that she may come to regret, but will never forget.
Additionally, it will be my first “large-ish” event in over a year with a little over 200 people attending (I and most guests will be fully vaccinated and social distanced). Also, because it comes at the end of this school year, I’m also looking at it as a mental stand-in celebration of all the good things from over the course of the past year.
Like everyone, there are celebrations I’ve missed out on: two birthdays, my high school graduation, the traditional college send-off, the pageantry of the holiday season and, in a couple weeks, the end of my first year of college. An unorthodox first year, but a first year nonetheless.
There have been small, intimate gatherings to commemorate these moments, but they don’t feel quite the same in the context of everything that’s going on. Everyone, myself included, is waiting for those celebratory moments to return, and they will.
Celebrations are a foundation of the human condition. I mean, there’s a reason Dionysus was one of the more popular Greek gods.
As an introvert, I’ve always been a bit restrained in massive gatherings and celebrations. Sure, I enjoy a good party, but sometimes it takes a little bit more energy out of me than others. This past year has shown that even I need to cut loose on the regular. Frankly, I feel like I have a bit of pent-up partying energy.
While I haven’t typically been the biggest party animal, I’ve come to appreciate the value of celebration.
During those times when revelry has been scarce, I’ve found moments to celebrate on my own. I love music, and there’s no substitute for a good song. When I really let go, I’ve found myself singing loudly and dancing by myself to celebrate. In those cases, it may be better that no one sees or hears me.
When the parties return to their former glory, I’m sure they’ll be “the bee’s knees,” to use a term from the original Roaring Twenties. At the same time, I’m glad I’ve gained a larger appreciation for celebration. It feels great to just party on your own sometimes.
In the immortal words of KISS:
“I want to rock-and-roll all night, and party every day.”
Well, maybe not all night and every day, I don’t know if I have the stamina that KISS has, but that doesn’t mean I can’t live like every day is something to celebrate.
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