Our turn-of-the-millennium legacy

Twenty-five years ago, we were living in Silver Spring, Maryland and thinking about the turn of the millennium. It was a big deal; something deserving of a celebration. But we were also worried. Remember the whole Y2K thing? The concern that computers would glitch when they rolled into the year 2000 given that many dates were recorded only by their last two digits? We thought it could affect everything from banks to power grids to airlines. At an informal neighborhood gathering (maybe our annual Labor Day picnic?) several of us whose kids were all friends started talking about what we should do. It should be grand. But we didn’t want to leave our kids – especially given Y2K worries. Maybe we should do something together?

So, we invited a group – four families, all with kids – to come over for drinks and take-out the next Friday night to chat about it. There was Beth and Jim, Tamara and Tom, Kate and Robert, and Tim and me. Our kids, ten of them, ranged from two to nineteen (we, of course, had both the oldest and the youngest). At least one member of each couple liked to cook, maybe we could have a fancy dinner or some sort. None of us really had time to do any of this, but, you know, when do you ever really have time? I happened to be giving a talk at a Council on Foreign Relations study group meeting in New York that Friday, but as I completed my train journey home, folks showed up at our house. By the time I walked in, the smell of Thai food was wafting, the kids were downstairs playing, and there was a rousing conversation around our dining room table.

That rousing conversation continued at rotating dining room tables over the course of every Friday night that fall. Someone was always arriving late or on some overseas trip. Always organized via email, our planning parties were “spontaneous” but orderly rotated and fell into a pattern. Everyone brought wine or beer. Someone brought appetizers, someone snacks for the kids, and someone else dessert. The host would plan for and buy the takeout. We definitely planned at these gatherings, but we also had a lot of fun in the midst of our action-packed lives.

By the time New Year’s Eve approached, we had quite a program. The party was to be at our house (I think we had the most open kitchen plan at that point). Though we would be in California to visit family over the holidays, we would fly in that day (carrying with us fresh Dungeness crab). The other families arrived at our house before we did to decorate. We arrived just in time to change and begin the evening with a champagne toast. We then had a pinata for the kids and filled the time capsule downstairs in our basement – with trinkets, voice recordings and who knows what else. The kids had a “backwards” dinner down there, beginning with an ice cream trough, then moving to pasta with pesto, nachos, and more. There were potato chips and onion dip which the adults scarfed down as they visited with their champagne.

Upstairs, there was a more sophisticated fare. Caviar, oysters, crab, amazing cheese, all accompanied by carefully selected wine. Then potato crusted salmon as a first, sit-down, course and an herb crusted whole beef tenderloin on a bed of roasted root vegetables with a reduction sauce, risotto with white truffle, bread, asparagus, and a mixed green salad with endive and blue cheese – all also accompanied by copious amounts of more carefully selected wine. For dessert there was German Chocolate Cake, Belgium chocolates, and crème brulee. It was spectacular. A Washington Post article on “Families Planning to Toast Together” contrasted our gathering with those who just wing it. “Not at the party to be attended by Py-Lieberman's family. The group, hosted by Debbie Avant and Tim Herbst, plans to feast and to bury a time capsule including voice recordings of the preschool- to college-age children. Every detail has been worked out at two strategy sessions, including a schedule and menus.” They got the number of strategy sessions wrong, but it was a nice article regardless.

In our plan, we thought we would fill the time capsule and then bury it between courses. But as often happens, as the wine flowed, the plan began to slip. It got late so quickly. We were on a roll with prep for all the things. The time capsule was filled but we would have to bury it later. We ended up squeezing the neighborhood parade in between courses. We began dessert somewhere around 2am.

I will never forget sitting on the sofa with Tim after everyone had left and we had cleaned up. It was 4am but we were compelled to just sit there for a minute and reflect. What an incredible night, what a terrific group of friends, and we were now living in a new millennium – what would it bring? But then off to bed because everyone would be back the next morning (at 10? 11?) to bury the time capsule and gobble leftovers.

And they were. All the adults were moving a little more slowly than usual (some needing snacks to sop up the alcohol that seemed to be still splashing around in our stomachs). But the whole crew traipsed to the woods behind our neighborhood park to bury the time capsule. The ground was hard, it took a bit. But we got it in, marked it with a rock and went back to munch on the rest of our leftovers, imagining what our lives would be like in twenty-five years when we dug it up. (Here is a picture of the place last year.

As the first Friday of the new millennium approached, we all seemed a bit sad without a planning party to look forward to. But then we got an email from Tamara saying she thought we needed another one and thus an invitation to come over. That not only cheered us up, it began a tradition that lasts to this day. Our planning parties continued – a time each week carved out of busy lives to reconnect, share food, drink, politics, stories, everything about our lives. Every Friday night. In time, they simply became Friday night parties (FNPs). We did plan New Year’s celebrations and had seven of these before Tim and I moved to California and then to Denver. We also planned weekend trips away – to New Orleans and Austin. Tim and I came back for a few New Years parties in DC after we moved. We had another at my parent’s house in San Diego. We’ve hosted a couple of Friday night parties in Denver. As our kids grew, their partners came with them, and they moved upstairs with the adults. Other neighbors and friends joined in. When Tim and I are in DC, we still come to FNPs. When our kids visit DC, they do too. During COVID, FNPs moved to Zoom and we joined in regularly.

And now, it has been nearly twenty-five years, and we are planning a silver anniversary celebration of the millennium’s turn and our tradition. We will fly back to DC, with all our kids (and grandkids) in tow. Digging up the time capsule is a key element. We’ve also decided to re-enact a (slightly pared down) version of the grown-up dinner. Beth contacted photographer from the Washington Post article who may join us if he is in town. But what else?

For that we need to plan. We began initial discussions over my visits to DC in January and June but our first serious FNP to plan for the anniversary will be next weekend. The whole gang is flying in to plan at our Breckenridge house. Even Kate's upcoming knee surgery will not stop them. And Tim and I will zoom into others over the fall and join when we are there.

As we excitedly prepare for the planning parties and the event, it seems time to reflect again. What a part of our lives these gatherings have been. What lovely friendships developed when we claimed a bit of time each week. And, OMG, so much has happened – and we have gotten so old! What will the next twenty-five years of this millennium bring?