The Happy Last Hurrah 

A number of years ago I wrote a story for Durham Magazine about Project Graduation. In doing my research I learned that graduation night is the single most dangerous night of a person’s life. It was a statistic that scared me to death, no pun intended. Since this year was Carter’s senior year I did what my bossy self always does and appointed myself the head of her class graduation dance and party, which is thrown by the parents of the graduates.
In my swan song from her school life I wanted to keep Carter and all her friends safe and celebratory in their last night together. Nothing like this can be pulled off alone so meetings were called, volunteers stepped forward, donations were made and plans were drawn up. Without the benefit of an unlimited funding source and professional party planners it was necessary to marshal the resources of the many.
It was universally agreed by the parents that we needed to create a really fun party to first get the kids to not create competing events, come, and stay. My own daughter whinged on that she was not happy about my involvement in this event. She has no personal memory of me throwing elaborate, large fun parties in my past life.
After a long day of celebratory lunches, graduation ceremonies, post photo opportunities and post post drinks on the lawn of the Carolina Inn I barely had enough energy to begin to host this big party. We had done the decorations the day before, for which I was thankful so that my hamstrings could recuperate from trips up and down the 20 ft. ladder. The casino was set up, the dj’s, photo booth, and black lights were ready, the food was prepared, the “everybody wins one” prize table was laden with gifts, the chaperones were in place, ready to take keys, hand out glow lights, casino money and instructions on the rules. We just needed the kids.
The first one arrived fifteen minutes early and generously volunteered to help. Then another, and another, then a pack. We had a party. Ninty-five percent of the class showed up. At first there were those awkward moments, then they started playing games, dancing, winning prizes and being kids. There were a couple of minor issues, but everyone was incredibly respectful and calm. Kindness prevailed.
In the end the security guard who has done this same party for many years said it was smoothest one of its sort he had ever seen. The hired casino staff independently commented that these were the not just the nicest kids they had ever dealt with, but the nicest people. Except for a four or five kids who came and left, everyone else stayed and played. I had anticipated that kids would leave well before the 1:00 finish. I was incredibly wrong. Most were there to the bitter end.
I was exhausted, but thrilled. Ready for bed. My introverted daughter had asked me in advance if a few friends could come home with her. By the time I got home I pulled up to a house full of her classmates. The party continued at my house. I stayed up and policed that party until by 3:30 Carter shut it down and I made sure everyone got home safely. Four friends spent the night as they tend to do. This morning after they had gone to the diner for breakfast they came back and, I still in my night gown, exhausted from the four hours of sleep, hung out with them to rehash the evening. Carter said to me, “Mom, I was wrong to complain about your planning the party. It was great and I had the best time.” Her friends agreed. I’m glad I am so bossy.