Over the weekend we had a party for my lady love’s birthday and it was hours of good fun with agreeable company. We did well to steer clear of the minefields of politics and religion and the rest is history. General revelry gave way to various levels of intoxicated storytelling, and it reminded me the importance of good stories.

Sure there were dead ends, and people who had to be drawn out of their shells. But there were also tales from the past that had the crowd rolling with laughter and paying genuine attention. We were all present and accounted for, simply enjoying the admittedly mixed company we had invited.

Any time you host a gathering involving different groups of friends, you feel an anxiety welling up as the date approaches. Or in my case, I felt this welling as a byproduct of someone else’s anxiety. People from different towns and even states were present, all with completely different lives, so it can be awkward at first as guests get their bearings. Once these jitters have passed and everyone’s good and loose, we all got to learn about one another in a relaxed and enjoyable environment.

Stories were shared, and new friendships formed alongside the strengthening of old bonds. We helped to facilitate this and all of the work we put into the event proved worth it in the end.

The importance of times like these is not lost on me, I took note of the energy I experienced and felt satisfied that everyone enjoyed themselves. Having said that, we will probably never do it again without a major cause for celebration. It was a ton of work and weeks of nervous energy with nowhere to aim but at one another, which is counterproductive for the other 364 days of the year.