GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER?
Most of us have thought about who we’d invite to a dinner party if we could invite anyone we wanted. Being a ground rules-sort of person, I always ask if the guests can be dead. I reckon, I can see family or friends anytime. And who knows? I may be transformed into a wealthy, powerful, or incredibly charming figure, in which case I could invite any ol’ celeb, politico, or plumber I wanted. But, only if they were alive. Even though my prudishness is a siren call for the lifeless oiks of the world, they don’t make the most stimulating dinner guests. I mean, who wants to converse with an earnest, mumbling, half-wit? I get enough of that by talking to myself in front of a mirror.
As much as I’d love to be the reincarnation of Hades, I can’t conjure up the deceased to the table. Therefore, since this is my fantasy dinner party and not yours, I get to decide who I want to invite, and I choose to invite non-fiction people who currently don’t exist, but did so, (with reasonable documentation), at some point in the past. Besides, dead people are fascinating; but not in an obvious way. No, I wouldn’t ask them about their demise, the afterlife, or lack thereof. That would be crass. I would want to hear stories, experiences, and anecdotes about their life and adventures. For even the most half-witted of half-wits would have a good story to tell once they’re immobile and brought to dust. I suspect the process of ceasing to be would trigger enough self-reflection tempered with discernment that eating a full-course meal with the dearly departed would be a piquant experience. I’m going to go out on a limb here and presume that dead folk aren’t that persnickety about dinner menus, food preferences, or the tweeness of my household decor; so they’d make ideal dinner guests, even when serving up my haute cuisine version of Hamburger Helper. Obviously, I’d also request that Babel Fish be presented at each place setting, so Douglas Adams will definitely be invited.
So now that I’ve gone on and on about the premise behind my fantasy dinner companions, I’ve compiled a baker’s dozen list of who I’d invite to dinner even though they’re dead:
James Herriot
Thomas Hardy
Chipeta
George Harrison
Emmeline B. Wells
Patrice O’Neal
Eleanor of Aquitaine
George Q. Cannon
Benazir Bhutto
Zara Alexeyewa Khyva St. Albans
Douglas Adams
John D. Fitzgerald
Johann Sebastian Bach
I won’t reveal my rationale for choosing these thirteen guests because that would make this rumination turn into an even longer-winded treatise. So, there’s no need for you to feel slighted if you’re not invited ’round to dinner. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just that you’re still alive.
~ Emery Lamb
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