Goodbye with Mustard on the Side

There is no better way to say goodbye to friends than with a celebration of adventures to come and the distribution of acquired condiments. It’s a Foreign Service tradition.

In our time at Oakwood, we had acquired no fewer than eight bottles of mustard in three different flavors and five different brands. We had happily accepted parting gifts of friends who had said farewell to their unused condiments (I blogged about it here), and so when it came to be our time to leave, it was only fair that we should pass on the kindness of neighbors and distribute our unused food items to those that would remain.

We lured friends to our house with the promise of pizza on the eve of our road trip to Mexico. The invitation entitled “Goodbye to dear friends and good riddance to old condiments” went out a week in advance.* The invitations pleading of “When you help a condiment, you help yourself” must have appealed to our guest’s sense of humanity, because we had an overwhelming response. Chris and I did fist pumps in anticipation. Then we just had to plan how the dividing of food wealth would best be served. We weren’t just going to give it all away easily; our guests would have to earn their booty. And what better way to earn food booty than by shaking their booties. They would have to dance for it.

Watching friends vie for hot chocolate mixes, garbanzo beans and metro passes was high entertainment. Some were sneakier than others. M of toilet paper fame was caught hiding honey so that she could win it without anyone else noticing its appeal. And a brawl almost broke out over a gift certificate with an expiring balance. (M was also involved in that dispute. She was serious about taking home the good stuff).

But not as serious as Darth Vader.

Other than pizza, we served whatever was left in our pantry and refrigerator that could double as party food. Kids were gorging themselves on Oreos, popsicles and maraschino cherries. Adults were scraping the last of the salsa from the jar using broken tortilla chips. It was awesome, even when kids started puking from too much sugar. After all, it’s not a good party unless somebody pukes.

But in the end, it was still a goodbye party. So we tried to hold back tears as we hugged everyone and wished them well. Even though I’ve been saying goodbye to dear friends for the past 10 months, I’m not sure that I will ever get used to it. Each one of them takes a piece of my heart with them, and I hope that no matter where they are, they know that they are missed. 

I hope that one day I will meet each of them again—perhaps back at Oakwood or perhaps in some other corner of the world. With the Foreign Service, the possibilities are endless.

* A big thanks to T for inspiring the party idea with stories from her own goodbye parties with the Foreign Service.

Months of Goodbyes...