Party Pooper

How I Single-Handedly Ruined a Murray Family Tradition

A Confession by Chris Williams (In His Own Words)

     The Fourth of July has never been that exciting to me. Fireworks and flag colored cupcakes pale in comparison to presents under brightly lit trees, Pilgrims and Native Americans “sharing a meal,” and zombie Jesus rising from the dead and asking his friends to stick their fingers in his wounds. Now those are the exciting holidays filled with family, turkey, dancing elves, more food than I would like to admit that I ate, and cards stuffed with $20 bills. Fourth of July has been more of an enigma in my family. Year after year, I would reluctantly go to see the fireworks and feign interest in the history of our nation. However, in September of 2010, I suddenly became more interested in the Fourth of July than all the other holidays combined.

      For 13 consecutive years, the Murray family had successfully held a Fourth of July BBQ in their backyard. The tales I have heard describe in detail the merriment and joy had by all who attended. If only I could attend this splendid one-of-a-kind family function, maybe I too would finally understand the magic of our nation’s birthday. Again and again, I received explanations that the party was only for family members and close family friends. Apparently, I was neither. This alone was hurtful, but coupled with the fact that I would once again be forced to endure a boring Fourth of July was intolerable. I had to go to this party, even if it killed me. For months I bargained, pleaded, cried, and threatened in order to get an invitation. But my efforts were met with little to no lenience. If Ryan Murray is one thing, he is stubborn. I knew that I had to try this from a different angle. Unfortunately asking adjunct Murray family member Kevin Andrews proved to be unsuccessful as it was pointed out to me that since the party is held at the Murray home, I would need an invite from an individual bearing the Murray surname. I briefly considered friending the Murray matriarch on Facebook but I knew this action would cause an unfixable rip in my relationship with Ryan. I had hit a wall. My only hope was to somehow marry into the family and officially become one of them. As I was preparing to find a suitable wife, an interesting (yet devastating) event transpired that put things into a new prospective.

      The gory details will not be laid out here. I am not one to air-out my dirty laundry. Let’s just say that a certain someone obtained tickets to a late night weekend variety show and did not invite a certain spectacled companion. I was the latter and I decided (in a fervent contemplation of our friendship) that I no longer wanted to go to the Fourth of July BBQ even if I was invited. It was a dark time, and I wish I had never even had such thoughts. Eventually, I decided I could use this situation to secure an invitation to what would likely be the best day of my life. Ryan solemnly agreed that I could come as reparation for his disloyal actions. I contained my joy to jumping up and down and singing. I was already envisioning myself in the Murray backyard rubbing elbows with the most powerful members of the Murray clan. I would finally secure my position as a member of the inner circle of the family.

     With great power comes great responsibility. I was told that I would need to be on my best behavior. I was not allowed to bring fireworks, swim in the pool, make eye contact with anyone, and I would only be able to speak when spoken to. I agreed to these terms with an unrivaled enthusiasm, and I knew that just being there was enough for me. Needless to say, Ryan was less thrilled than myself. He worried that the party would somehow be ruined because, according to him, I have a way of ruining everything. I told him he was being paranoid, but he continued to present scenarios in which I would wind up burning down the house or accidentally drowning his grandmother in the pool. I soon became worried myself, and as May turned into June, I knew that I would keep my promise and make sure I was on my best behavior. After all, the most important thing was ensuring that I received an invitation to next year’s party. This family tradition had a perfect track record and all eyes were on me as the unstable variable that threatened to ruin the long-standing success of what was the most sacred event of the year.

     Things started going wrong as early as June. Due to the calendar’s alignment, July 4^th fell on a Monday, a decidedly inappropriate day for a BBQ. Instead, the party would be held on Sunday July 3. Unfortunately, slowly but steadily, less and less family members and friends decided to attend. According to Ryan, it would be one of the smaller gatherings in the party’s history. He blamed me for the dwindling guests, but I knew he was once again trying to blame me for something I did not do. It would be a small, intimate gathering and it would still be glorious.

     At 6:37 AM on Sunday July 3, 2011, I awoke to a loud sound. Thunder. I closed my eyes and wished that it was merely the worst nightmare I had ever had. No luck, I was awake. Maybe it wasn’t thunder, I hoped, maybe it’s just a burglar who had broken into my house. Nope, it was thunder and it was raining. I was beyond the point of tears. I knew what this meant. It would rain for the next 24 hours and there would be no party and somehow it was all my fault. I sat in silence and contemplated this hellish coincidence. Around noon, I received a rather ugly, but not unexpected, phone call from Ryan Murray. I listened as he scolded me for what I had done. All I could do was apologize even though I knew this situation was bigger than anything I could apologize for. We were dealing with something bigger than all of us.

       At this point, I would like to extend my sincerest and most heartfelt apologies to the members of the Murray family (extended and immediate). It was not my intention to ruin the party. In fact, if you excuse my boldness, I was the person most excited to attend the festivities this year. Although I personally do not believe that I am responsible for this unfortunate weather, I know that the blame will most assuredly be placed on me since previous BBQs have been tremendously successful and this year, I happened to be the only variable. I hope we can move forward from this and I am certainly aware that my invitation to next year’s party will not be easily earned. I am prepared for whatever challenges I need to face, and I will do whatever it takes to win back your trust. Because in the end, I was just trying to help.