“It was an annual event, and this year I was on the guest list. Michael warned me that these parties were usually pretty boring, but I agreed to go anyway, after work, to see what a holiday party was like in Redwood Hills as much as any other reason. It was interesting to see how the upper-class celebrated. Dad and Lynn’s parties typically involved a grill, spinach-artichoke dip, and beer, and we all pitched in to clean up afterward. None of those things were in evidence at Michael’s parents...’ party. First of all, it was catered. There were actual servers milling around, carrying trays of bite-sized snacks. Champagne flowed. The well-dressed crowd, which consisted of various relatives and some co-workers of Michael’s father’s, stood or sat around in groups, sipping drinks and chatting demurely. My father, with his booming laughter and lack of internal filter, would have been like a bull in a china shop at this party. I felt a little out of place, myself.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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