Daily Blague

Last night, Ms NOLA and M le Neveu brought over a few of their Dartmouth pals to celebrate the return of one of their number from two years' service with the Peace Corps in Georgia. I cooked, but Ms NOLA hosted (an arrangement that suited me down to the ground). My fried chicken came through once again, with the spring and summer standard accompaniments of coleslaw and roast sweet potatoes. For dessert, I baked a very straightforward fudge cake from The Joy of Cooking, which also supplied me with an extremely easy "satin" frosting. As is always the case when I'm cooking, fundamentally, for a picnic, I made far more food than was needed. But I did not have the energy to make dinner rolls. They'd have been excessive, but I regretted the chance to spread first quality butter on fresh-baked bread.

So much for the food. For five hours, I bobbed in the company of really, really bright late twentysomethings. All of them are doing well in one line or another, and I expect that they'll continue to prosper. If Ms NOLA has her way, they will remain friends forever, always in touch. As a group, they're the result of coincidentally being in New York now, not of having been fast friends in Hanover. I experienced something of the same thing myself in Houston, after graduating from college lo these many decades ago. But I didn't want to be in Houston. Everyone here tonight wants to be in New York, even the Peace Corps veteran, although she - I boggle a bit at the choice she's got to make - hasn't yet decided between Columbia's and Harvard's law schools. When she gets out of whichever one she chooses, she intends to work here.

Having told it yesterday to a different crowd, Ms NOLA and I got to tell our "How were the Altenbergs?" story again. I'm not going to repeat it here, but if I get to know you at all you'll hear it eventually, because it always tickles me to death. (M le Neveu was not enthusiastic about the retelling.) For the most part, however, I listened and laughed along. When the conversation focused very sharply on Dartmouth personalities that I'd never heard of - a student body president who inappropriately professed a personal relationship with Jesus - I slipped away to do a few dishes. I was very tired from the labor of executing a hassle-free Easter dinner while following regular routines, such as tidying the apartment and reviewing the Book Review. I'm very glad that I don't have to do anything before curtain time tonight. (We're seeing Faith Healer, with Cherry Jones and Ralph Fiennes.)

The company of intelligent younger people can be oppressive, reminding one of one's age and lost desires (I will never crave an iPod). Or, as it was for me tonight, it can be a great tonic, reassuring me that there will be bright lights and strong hands after I'm gone.