A friend of mine retires from teaching in a few weeks. She’s not one big on ceremony, and has asked that instead of our school holding its standard nod toward a retirement party that we only have a cake in the staff lounge. I appreciate where she’s coming from on this, because I wouldn’t be comfortable as the center of attention in a big celebration. When it’s my turn to retire in another eighty-five or so years, I hope I’ll be able to duck out with minimal fanfare as well.
Some of us got to talking about retirement yesterday, and how retirement parties are generally given much less acknowledgement now than even fifteen or twenty years ago. A retirement is no small thing, after all. It’s the closing of a career.
The more we all talked about it, we realized almost every half-special event in this post-millennial social network driven culture we’re all trying to navigate seems to have some kind of manufactured celebration tied to it. It’s possible that because of this the idea of a what makes an event special has been diluted by so many other over-the-top celebrations, and people might be burned out on them by the time they reach retirement age.
For example: A generation or two back, if you wanted to go to prom with someone, you found maybe the nerve to ask, they said yes or no, and boom, the deal was done. Now, and I apologize in advance for using this abomination of a word, promposal (and thank you, spellcheck, for rightfully trying to correct my use of that word) videos go viral with frightening regularity. Also, when did going to prom become about a photo shoot with twenty couples posing at some completely arbitrary location, like a park or a grain mill to create atmosphere that has nothing to do with prom? When Peter Parker picked up his date in “Spider-Man: Homecoming,” he awkwardly gave her a corsage, her mom took a picture or two, and her dad drove them to the dance. Why does it need to be more than this? (Granted, Peter was going to homecoming instead of prom, and half an hour later he was fighting his date’s father from the outside of an invisible cargo jet 20,000 feet in the air, but I feel my point here still stands.)
Another example: I remember the excitement when my sister and her husband were expecting and learned they were having boys, but I know they sure as hell didn’t go through all the pomp and faux ceremony of sharing that moment while sixty of their closest friends watched them cut into a mystery cake with either pink or blue inside, or popping a balloon to see what color of confetti was in it. Aren’t baby showers enough?
Don’t get me started on weddings. Back when I was young enough to be curious about seeing how many people I went to high school with were getting married, the engagement photo was basically a standard graduation-style head shot with two people instead of one. It showed up in the local newspaper and was never seen or heard from again because it had served its purpose. I can’t remember exactly when “Save the Date” cards became a thing, but I remember the first time I received one and thinking it was kind of bossy. Why exactly do these things and the engagement announcement portfolios that inevitably follow, require separate and extensive photo sessions? And when the actual wedding day arrives, why does the entire wedding party need to dance their way into the dinner with each couple getting their own entrance music, like they’re coming up to bat in major league baseball? Note to the future brides and grooms of the world: If you have your wedding party make dramatic musical entrances like that in the name of fun, you’re pretty much tipping your hats about the flash mob coming up during either the first or second song the D.J. plays. We’ve all seen it enough to know it’s coming.
I understand wanting to celebrate. I’m really not against it, even if I’ve leaned into a slightly-exaggerated version of a cranky old man voice here. But there’s celebrating to acknowledge an event and to enjoy the company of the people important to you, and there’s just taking the whole thing too far. Remember that whatever kind of party you’re throwing, it isn’t being entered into any kind of contest to be the best one ever, despite what Instagram wants you to believe. Just enjoy the moment and take it in for what it’s worth. Please. Because the first time I see an internet photo album that shows a couple at a cake tasting event deciding what flavor of cake their baby will smear and smash all over themselves during their first birthday party? I’m moving off the grid.
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