What I Really Know About Family Get-Togethers: Managed Chaos

The AARP Bulletin’s What I Really Know column comes from our readers. Each month we solicit short personal essays on a selected topic and post some of our favorites in print and online. Below, reader Rosemary Barkes of Grove City, Ohio, shares what she really knows about family get-togethers.

One thing I know about family get-togethers is that chaos rules. I’m stretched like a rubber band from the moment I agree to host a party until the moment it’s over.

OK, I lied. I know two things about get-togethers: Chaos rules and hosts need to get a grip on it.

My husband learned this lesson shortly after we were married. We got together in our 60s, the second marriage for each of us. As an only child, John prefers solitude. As the eldest of four, I demand an audience. When it’s my turn to host a gathering, I freak. John, on the other hand, knows exactly what to do. He hides.

At the first ring of the doorbell, he heads for the kitchen. He peels, boils and mashes the potatoes, makes the gravy, slices the turkey and pours the wine. If a family member offers to help, John, like a bolt of lightning, counters, “No, no, no. I can manage. Thanks anyway.” They think he’s a saint.

Only after every family member has gone through the serving line does the saint slither into the dining room to eat. By that time, he’s hoping the kids have gotten lost and the men are glued to the telly.

After eating, he retreats to his kitchen hideout to scrape plates, rinse glasses and wrap extra turkey or ham for the vultures. He then finds other places to hide. He tinkers in the basement. He locks himself in the bathroom. He goes outside with my brother-in-law for a smoke break.

He doesn’t smoke.

But like a long-lost cat, Saint John reappears when the first guest heads for the door. “Thanks, John, for all your hard work,” my sister purrs. “Rosemary sure is lucky to have you.” My brother, chief vulture, grips a load of leftovers and bleats, “Sorry we didn’t get to talk more. Later, bro!”

I’ll never squeal on John. While I’m stretched like a rubber band, John handles gatherings his way—by hiding.