On The Mark: It's good to have grad parties back

I have thoroughly enjoyed the half-dozen grad parties I attended the last few weeks. It's always sweet to see how the featured grad beams at you and answers your "what's next?" questions. And I love the photo displays where you can trace the grad's trajectory, from lovable baby through finding himself or herself with the guidance and joy of strangers and siblings.

A good party also involves sitting down, forking up yummy food, and visiting with neighbors and strangers. It struck me this year how the physical setting encourages (or not) unexpected conversations with people you've not met before.

This past weekend, we climbed the hill up to the Pine Valley chalet for a grad celebration for Jack and Henry Slater, the twin sons of Pine Knot editor Jana Peterson and Duluth News Tribune reporter Brady Slater. Arriving at the earliest possible moment, we were pleased to spend a while talking with Brady, casually leaning along the outside deck railing.

Just inside the front door, we chatted with the beaming brothers, each giving us a glimpse into their near futures. Receiving plates of delicious food the family had cooked up in their kitchen, we sat down at one of the long tables. The oldest Peterson/Slater offspring, Franny, was suddenly in front of us, and we caught up with her active year working for the Arizona Legislature as well as completing her classes. A few minutes later, the Slater progenitors and uncles and aunts joined our table, sparking "who, what, where, why" stories flying between bites of extraordinary sloppy joes and salad.

It struck me later that physical settings often shape what's possible at such events. Small, crowded spaces encourage conversations with others, including people you've never met before.

I remember hosting our graduate women students and faculty at the University of Minnesota's Humphrey School in the tiny house we rented in Linden Hills. It was packed, with many setting themselves on the carpet, precariously holding paper plates on their knees. I turned to the woman closest to me and apologized for the small space. "Don't you know," she responded, "crowded parties are the best parties."

I laughed, reflecting on the eight-household dinner club we'd had in New Jersey for several years - colleagues, partners and kids crowded into our vintage homes. One night, my turn, I had some kind of emergency work project and bought home pizza instead of our normally creative cuisine. I spent my first hour apologizing profusely to everyone. One of my favorites, a historian, confronted me and said, "You mean, if I have an emergency meeting or class prep and I don't have time to cook dinner, I have to spend the whole evening apologizing?"

At another standout party, for Cromwell grad Brandi Collman, we could wander from the main locale (aka garage), replete with food, drink and hours of the River Hill Rangers live band. If you wanted sun, breeze and/or conversation, you could sit at tables set out around the spacious yard. I love the surprise conversations, like one I had sitting on grass with friend Myoung and our former postmaster Annie Heaser, whose husband Mick was playing with the band - bass, guitar, vocals.

The significance of party spaces as nurturers of conversation and encounters with unknown others struck me as I reflected on the various grad parties I'd gone to this year, often heavily populated by people I've never met before. The physical settings - outside, inside or in-between, seating, food, entertainment and casual groupings of people - at these and other kinds of celebrations encourage or discourage engagement. It was fun to meet Brady's family members, and the chalet was a perfect setting.

Ann Markusen is an economist and professor emerita at University of Minnesota. She lives in Red Clover Township north of Cromwell with her husband, Rod Walli.