Making memories

It was the night before my son’s graduation from college. His fraternity, the second oldest at the university, had invited the parents to their house for an evening of merriment and revelry. My husband, my mother and I all ventured into the lovely old house with a bit of trepidation. He had lived there for two and a half years. We knew what to expect inside.

I mean, the house was well over one hundred years old and had housed some 25 young men every year for at least 100 of them. A house in such disrepair, they were in the midst of raising money to do a massive renovation. (They were successful!) A house that had a party every Saturday and a thorough cleaning before house meetings every Wednesday. (I never understood that delay...)

And we were going to spend time in the basement. A basement on which one fraternity brother had done an experiment earlier that year. Taking a sample of basement sludge after a normal Saturday night, he brought it to his professor’s lab. Some two weeks later, the professor said don't tell me where you got that from, but it is hazardous.

A basement that smelled like Clorox with a hint of I am going to be ill.

I guess all of that was in my mind as we entered the house and walked down the rickety stairs. My mother stayed on the stairs (in her mind, a little fresh air could be felt there, ha, and she still had a perfect view of the main room.) There were several offshoots from the main, and every room had a ping pong table.

All of those thoughts evaporated when I was persuaded to play ping pong.Or, rather, beer pong.

For the first time in my life.

It was a tournament: mother and son against mother and son. My son was the reining champion in the house. I, as I mentioned, had never played.

I got a crash course and the rules were slightly modified: I was allowed to not drink the beer on a missed shot (not a fan) and the boys were allowed to make us mothers feel better by not drinking the beer in the cups in which balls that had bounced on the wet floor were hit. (Vomit.) They kept cups on the side for the drinking. Lol.

Something you should know about me: I laugh a lot. Loudly. Also, when it comes to sports, I can be very competitive. And, when I play (or watch) sports, I scream alot. :-)

By the end of our match, all the players from other rooms had stopped their games to watch ours.

This picture was taken by another parent. An amateur photographer, that night, he took some of the best action shots I’ve ever seen. This is my favorite.

As you may be able to tell from my expression, my son and I won. And then he and my husband went on to also win in the dad/son tournament. And my husband and I both had the same winning shot. :-)

If I were to guess, I would say my thoughts then were very similar to the ones evoked every time I look at the picture: I have never had so much fun.