We hosted a Tol celebration for Minor this weekend, and even though it was a bit of a frat-party atmosphere, with fifteen small children chugging soda and their assorted parents trying to ignore their excesses like so many house mothers at Theta Chi, it was a fair success.

I am always reluctant to throw a party, because it seems like a supreme act of arrogance. Who am I to demand your time and attention? The extortion of a suitable gift is only adding insult to penury.

I’m also hobbled by the fear that everyone will have a lousy time and leave early, or worse. As a child I was greatly affected by one of those girl-detective novels with a fateful party as the centerpiece. The sleuth was trying to solve the mystery of the ghost of a girl who had died in the 19th century. She had invited everyone in town to her debut. It was to be the event of the year. On that dark and stormy night, she waited for hours in her formal dress with the food and musicians in readiness, but NO ONE CAME. Distraught, she wandered out into the storm and caught brain fever or drowned in the swollen creek or died of exposure, as disappointed girls do.

The townspeople were horrified by her death and NEVER SPOKE OF THAT NIGHT until the modern-day detective discovered that the dead girl’s jealous cousin had NEVER SENT THE INVITATIONS. Which begs the question–did no one note the lack of RSVPs? Or did people not respond in the nineteenth century? They got the post twice a day back then, so if not I want to know why.

Trust me, that would have never happened with Evite. You can even see the time and date that your guests viewed the invitation, so they can’t even beg off with the excuse, “Oh, that must have gotten diverted to my junk mail!” But then, so many literary plot twists are lost forever, thanks to technology.

At any rate, Minor had a wonderful time at his party and chose the calligraphy brush, which signifies that he is to be a great scholar. Unfortunately the whole thing was lost to posterity when we turned the camcorder over to a friend for the Tol ceremony and she turned it off, thinking she was turning it on. (I suppose technology giveth as many plot twists as it taketh away.) Upon discovering this, I of course dashed out of the house into the gathering storm and caught brain fever, which is now, to the detriment of melodrama, easily treatable with a little NyQuil.

Happy birthday to my sweet boy. I will always remember your big day, even if there is no iMovie to play for you.