Going Away Party

Work day broken up by going away party for an associate dean named Harry, a good Friend who is in his early hundreds and who, in disregard for health codes and the changing times, continues to chain smoke in his office. Correction: until today he has smoked in his office. In the good old days when thought that smoking cigarettes was fun, would go to Harry's office with offerings of coffee and chocolate. In return, Harry shared his Marlboro Reds and we talked about Books, the history of the school (Harry a pack rat--kept boxes of vintage stationary in office, old programs, canvas bags, and was also guardian of silver Tiffany punch bowl decorated with school insignia). Harry also very helpful with romantic woes. Darling, he'd say, Have another Cigarette. Tell me about it. Would leave office feeling light headed and queasy, but better. At party, punch bowl on display. Serve self punch, which is the kind made by childhood piano teacher -- gingerale and sherbet -- but this punch, unlike piano teacher's, reeks of booze. The contessa sidles up to me, and says with eyes wide open. I think Libby got into the punch. Libby leaning against wall as though if she moved wall woudl fall down. Party catered by the good caterer. Eat shrimp, crab Puffs, very fresh vegetables including snap peas. Everyone in good mood, including me. Harry gives speech. Says he started 45 years ago and -- pulls fedora from behind his back -- wore this hat. Feel lump form in throat at thought of not having Harry around.