A Toast to Those Who Leave the Herd

People who can’t wait for the table to be poured drive me nuts. You know, the ones who reach for their glass the minute the bottle is lifted away? I don’t know why, but outside of my buddies in Europe, I know a lot of people like this. People, who, like a nervous herd of gazelles gathered at a pond, lower their heads and quickly drink, as if this immediate gratification will save them from the lion about to pounce. Makes me wonder if this behavior IS vestige to our time on the savannah, when we had to dine and dash because we knew the lion was lurking close by? Today, 1.8 million years after the appearance of Homo erectus, what’s wrong with breaking from the herd and slowing down a bit?

I started thinking about this not only because ‘tis the season of celebrating and friends gathering, but because of our 16-month (partner and) son. He loves to have a “fancy drink”—something we believe he thinks is more special than the milk, water, or diluted juice he typically quaffs—especially when we celebrate occasions like the bank giving us more money to limp through another growing and wine making year on, or the end of harvest, and I want my little guy to join in and engage with those around him fully in the occasion. To break from the herd. Slow down. To know he is no longer on the savannah.

Usually this drink is nothing more than watered-down juice with a lemon twist in a small bell jar, or just recently, some sparkling white grape juice, but we can tell he’s thrilled. Then, with drink held firmly in his little two-hand grip, he extends his cherubic, tapered-end fingers and glass out and we all say “Cheers!” as we clink our cups together. Tonight I decided to further his toasting tutelage and said, “Look in my eyes, Samuel!” as our glasses touched. My hope being that if he IS going to toast, that he won’t be one of those careless toasters, one who looks past you or even awkward as you express your sentiment and joy to be sitting and sharing drink with one another, or worse, one who doesn’t toast at all. Remember people, 1.8 million years and the lion’s gone. We can do this. After a moment where he tried to think through what I had just said, Samuel blinked seriously, and looked straight into my eyes. I was thrilled. He can’t yet coordinate the look with the clink, but he’s on his way, that sweet little munchkie moo moo!

Simply perplexed, I wonder, “What happened to slowing down and enjoying?” Is it the curse of the global world where the individual gets lost in the globular whole that’s always on the move for bigger and better? Is it because we live in a country that considers itself more equal than ever before, that, ages ago, chopped up manners and decorum in the wood pile because our minds were more focused on surviving another winter, and not the bowing and curtseying we may have left behind? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting a return to any behavior that purports a power relation or social class structure. Just some simple, quiet enjoyment. A comforting stop off the loud and raucous road the herd is always traveling. That’s it.

Besides the look-in-the-eyes-when-toasting, here are some other little “niceties” I will share with him, again hoping that he doesn’t get gobbled up in the roar of others who stampede through a meal:

• If you’re the host, you pour the wine. It’s not a free for all out there, and it’s definitely not for Mr. Glugger to do, the one who’s throwing it back faster than everyone else. It’s your job to keep an eye on your guests. Remember, you’re the host! Fill ‘em up when they’re low and above all else, keep that wine by your side!
• If you’re the one pouring (as host, or if the Host is NOT doing a good job and does not object to you taking over the bottle) NEVER pour your glass first. Pour the table’s, then yours. There’s this guy we know who not only pours his glass first, his glass, when he’s the host, is 2X as big as all the others. And then he fills it. We get what’s left. Which leads me to:
• When you’re the host, don’t have a glass 2X the size of the others’. No matter how much you believe you being the host—or our girth—affords you that right. Don’t do it.
• Wait until the entire table is poured and seated before you slurp your wine. Old Wise All was a pro at this. He would not only pour his own glass and then set the wine down expecting us to do the same before we were even seated, he’d then start to gulp it down while we were only pouring ours. Trying to hang on to some piece of anything and not fall into the free-for-all world of Old Wise All, I’d always wait until everyone was poured and then tried that look-in-the-eye toast. Yeah. Like I said, I tried.
• Don’t start your meal unless the whole table has theirs. Unless someone, like the host, tells you go ahead and not to wait. You are eating together, aren’t you?
• Don’t clear the plates unless everyone is finished. Drives me NUTS in a restaurant when the server does this. You know, the “feeling rushed” factor.
• Just because you’re a faster drinker, doesn’t mean you get to drink more. At least not when you’re sharing a bottle. I know someone who just throws it back and always ends up with 2-3 times more than slow enjoyers like me. I know it’s always something I give my husband a hard time about as we squabble over how big the bottle’s dimple is when he divvies up the rest of the bottle. No one, especially me, likes to be shorted!
• When you’re the host, look after the table and keep everyone filled up! I know it’s a repeat of what I said earlier, but being a host is a big thing!
• AND- Always bring the hostess a gift. Something. Anything. A flower from your yard. A candle is nice. And if you can, dress it up as a gift. Don’t just hand over the bag from the store you visited 10 minutes before arriving.

It’s not rocket science. But it IS time to break from the herd. Be an Individual. Get off that rushed, loud, busy highway and reconnect with those little life-enriching experiences survival of the fittest has afforded us. I know sharing a toast with our small (partner and) son is one of them. Just don’t bring any herd mentality to my table. Because I’ll be that lion, and I will pounce.