Party On, Dudes

Brooklyn parties were legendary. Oh, I’m sure folks from the other boroughs or even (gasp) Jersey people had some slamming soirées. But Brooklyn has always been and will forever be the bomb. And my dears, Ma brought partying to an art form.

Garage parties were all the rage in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Hot wax blared from the record player, a tub was filled with soda on ice, chips and pretzels spilled over Tupperware bowls. The main idea was to dance, talk and flirt. Their moves came from American Bandstand or Hullabaloo. It was not yet the age of “Dirty Dancing.”

When Concetta hosted a garage party, Ma brought it over the top. The backyard was crisscrossed with amazing Chinese lanterns and Christmas lights. Nana’s kitchen table in the basement groaned under the heavy load of finger foods and trays of home made cream puffs. Sometimes Poppie would man the BBQ to grill burgers and dogs before slipping upstairs. Yes, this was Ma’s version of a garage party. You didn’t really think Poppie parked his car on the street, did you? His garage was a temple to Chevy and Pontiac.

I was too little to have a garage party but Ma always knew how to keep the peace. She would allow me to fill the breakfast nook with kids from the block when Poppie worked at night at Thom McCann shoes. If we had a pizza party, Ma would mesmerize us by tossing her dough up in the air while she stretched it to fit her pans. Most of the time it was a just a snack party where she would make snow cones, zeppole, banana splits or spin cotton candy from our own machine. We didn’t really do much other than watch Ma cook; eat the fruits of her labor and talk. Grandpa would typically make an appearance towards the end of the gathering to make sure the kids held on to the banister and didn’t jump down the staircase.

Holiday parties were always out of control. For Halloween, the whole family would come in costume, dance sing, play cards and of course eat. The adults were just as silly as the kids and we have more than one picture of Grandpa in drag with Uncle Tommy trying to grab a handful of fake boobies.

New Year’s Eve parties were also spectacular on West 1st Street, or so I imagine. Each year Nana would warn all the grandchildren to only use the store bought noise makers at midnight. But Ma had other plans for us. Right before the ball fell, Ma would instigate all the kids to grab Nana’s pots, pans and wooden spoons to bang the hell out of them. The side door was open all night and there would be an endless parade of family, friends and neighbors coming into the house to laugh, eat and drink.

Of course there were birthdays, graduations and anniversary parties galore but when it came to planning her first wedding reception, Ma found the swankiest joint around: La Mer. Brides Magazine could not hold a candle to the elegance and detail of this wedding: French lace wedding dress, ice sculpture and fountain, live band, sumptuous meal, bagels and racing form party favor, and much more. Aunt Chubby asked Ma how she planned to outdo Concetta’s wedding. And then there was Nicole’s christening party.

How can you describe the joy that a new baby brings to a family? You simply cannot. Concetta and Howie didn’t want a huge production; they preferred a normal, relaxed party at home. But Ma asked Cetta to allow her to celebrate being a grandmother for the first time. Who could refuse her?

To be fair, it really wasn’t a “huge production.” It was more like a Broadway extravaganza---complete with Belly Dancer. Even Nicole’s christening outfit had the family shaking their heads. It was Christian Dior, which each of the five grandchildren wore for their Baptism. Ma called me in a panic when Jonathan was born. She was afraid that she would need a tailor to let out the seams because Jon was such a robust little guy.

Ma also had sterling silver demitasse spoons for all her grandchildren, which she proudly used the first time she fed each one solid food. She told me the Kennedy’s were not the only ones born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Her grandchildren were just as special.

Even back then, Ma was looking towards amazing parties for the future. She made me promise her that the next generation would also wear the christening gown and eat from a silver spoon. I have every intention of keeping my promise. The Dior is in storage and the spoons are in my safety deposit box waiting to be distributed.

All of us have a bit of Ma’s finesse as a party planner. We go for the dramatic and are in “the zone” when people enjoy our events. To-do lists, menus, décor, cooking and then your eyes constantly sweep the scene to make sure everyone is having a good time. Next time you organize a bash, in the midst of the entire hubbub, take a deep breath and say hello to Ma. She was never one to miss a party and she sure won’t miss one of ours.