My Daryl Dinner

by Mary Lee Gowland

For years I was jealous when I heard about the “Daryl Dinners” poets were hosting as fundraisers for CPITS. I imagined sophisticated gatherings in tony tree-shaded suburbs or fog shrouded San Francisco, with fine wine in crystal and huge vases of flowers all over the host’s beautiful home. I lived in the middle of nowhere and didn’t know any rich people.

Then last March, at the area coordinator meeting in Sacramento, the topic of what we could do to celebrate CPITS 45th anniversary was brought up. I realized that I was celebrating a milestone too – in May I would be sixty. I didn’t want to throw a party just for myself but it might be fun to have a CPITS fundraiser. Suddenly I was excited about the idea.

Then reality sunk in: my dining room/kitchen table only seats 6. Would guests have to eat on their laps? And where would all the cars park? In discussing this with Anne, a recently recruited CPITS poet, she said, “I can seat sixteen and if we rent tables, even more.”

So the next Sunday I went over and checked out her perfect party home. Better still, she had a guest room for Daryl. So we set the date and I sent out an invitation letter to my closest friends, including the beautiful new CPITS brochure and a coupon that said, “I can’t make it to Mary Lee’s party but I’d like to support CPITS”.

I began to panic when the end of April approached and I had not heard from over half the people I’d invited. I guess most people think RSVP meets call if you’re coming, not let me know if you’re coming or not.
So I emailed and called and got discouraged when friends had other plans -or maybe felt they weren’t able to contribute financially.

Anne stepped in and gave names of some of her friends and we got up to our goal of 22 people. Four days before the party, Daryl arrived, made himself at home in Anne’s kitchen and found a Chinese market in Fresno. But he wanted to know how we were doing with helpers. Helpers! I had completely forgotten about helpers.

Unfortunately none of my Poetry Out Loud kids were available because my party was the same night as the prom. I did recruit one of our “Poets in the Pines” poets, who was wonderful and worked that Saturday from ten a.m. till midnight. I had invited a couple who owns our local market and although they couldn’t come. the wife said she could help in the kitchen for a few hours.

Drinks and dishwashing I delegated to my husband and table setting to an artist friend. We rented a third table, so we could seat 24. At the last minute a couple cancelled but another called to say they were bringing friends.

There are so many wonderful highlights of that special day: Daryl’s calm, methodical energy in the kitchen punctuated with a tango lesson every so often, when he would take one of us by the hand and lead us backwards around the island; Penelope’s sweet doggy watching from a corner; a dip in Anne’s pool when the heat of the ovens became too much for me; stacks of plates, chopsticks, cups and bowls waiting to be filled; Lynne arriving and creating absolutely elegant, simple, classy table settings with passion flowers in two compote cups the only decoration.

As guests arrived Anne’s husband shuttled them up their long driveway in his “mule”; I greeted everyone as they came in, giving each a raffle ticket and showing them the array of prizes (mostly CPITS anthologies and poetry books) they could win. I also had, on the sideboard, an empty white bowl and by it a square ceramic vase of envelopes and pens, marked “DONATIONS”

The evening was perfect, with a light breeze and guests gathered on the deck to watch the sun set over Deadwood Mountain. Then we called them in and one by one each dish was presented. Back and forth we trekked from kitchen to tables with an array of delicacies, and were able to take periodic breaks in one of the empty seats.

The only dark spot of the evening was this: Lynne asked Daryl “What’s in this?” and he explained that it was a variety of dried and canned mushrooms and an abalone-like seafood. Suddenly our friend Doris jumped up and held her neck. “I’m allergic to shellfish!” she cried and ran for the door. I went to get my purse, because I always carry Benedryl, “just in case” but she said, “That won’t do it,” and off to Urgent Care they went. Luckily it was still open for half an hour, otherwise they would have had to drive an hour to Fresno.

From now on Daryl will ask the guests if they have any allergies before cooking commences, so this problem will be avoided in the future. Doris lived, with hives for a week, and she now knows that she needs to let people know about her allergies.

As dinner wound down, entertainment began. I’d asked everyone to bring a poem or music if they liked. We were treated to a couple of piano pieces, songs with guitar and many wonderful poems. I had planned to make my “pitch” at this point, but I saw that the bowl by the front door was full of envelopes and that everyone had contributed.

The last song on the piano was “Happy Birthday” with variations and indeed, it was one of the happiest birthdays of my life. By midnight my husband has gotten the kitchen all cleaned up and we sat down to count the income. When it was totaled I felt that it was a pretty good take. Then, my husband pulled out his wallet and wrote a matching check from his business. I remembered when he had said the week before,
”I’m going to do something at the party that will upset you. You’ll be mad at first, but then you’ll be happy.” So this was it. He wasn’t going to announced, in front of everyone, that he wanted a divorce. I kissed him.

In my opinion the party was a great success. I’m so grateful to Daryl and Anne for taking nearly a week to make the party happen. Daryl and Anne came to one of my classes and it was a great experience to see how he teaches; he also visited one of Anne’s classes and our local poetry group and the day before he headed to San Diego, Anne took him kayaking.

So, in a nutshell, let me tell anyone who is considering inviting Daryl to come to their town – at his own expense – and purchase all the food – at his own expense! – and do all the cooking – with a little help from your friends - that you should do it, before this dear sweet soul decides to retire his woks and scary knives.

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