All Tomorrow's Parties

"I sent the club a wire stating, PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER." -Groucho Marx
This is not completely true for me, if you count my membership in the Oingo Boingo Secret Society and Club Devo. Over the years I have offered up this quote from Groucho as a refrain for my misanthropy. If it was good enough for Woody Allen, it's good enough for me. I like to think of myself as a loner, a rebel, and again, if it was good enough for Pee Wee Herman, it's good enough for me.
But the truth is, I would love to belong. In those moments of community that I allow myself, I am quite happy. The challenge is getting me there. I have been described as shy, introverted, curmudgeonly, even snobbish. All of these are apt for moments at a time, but they fail to get at the screaming undercurrent of fear that I have for being anywhere near the center of attention. I compensate for this mightily by crafting a persona that holds up quite well on stage, and can be quite charming. This was never more true than back in my "beer years", when "The Dave Show" was a regular feature of the seemingly weekly parties held at my apartment. I am told it was a lot of fun.
Since my retirement from the high life, I have spent more time with less people. I have some very interesting links to a large number of good friends, but nothing that would qualify as a "club". I don't belong to any professional associations, and my hobbies are best suited for groups no larger than will fit inside our five-seat car. I am always pleased when someone from my past reaches out and reconnects with me. I got a most amusing phone call from a past-Bookperson and confidante last night. He was a little drunk, but wanted to ask me a "burning question" about the connection between Stephen King and Richard Bachman. We both used the opportunity to vaguely acknowledge the time and distance between us, but kept it light and funny. It would have helped to have knowledge of our history, but you'll have to take my word for just how witty we both managed to be over the course of a fifteen minute phone call.
That's when I remembered how I used to stay in touch with the list of friends that I acquired over the years: As a bachelor, I would spend hours on the phone with anyone who was polite enough to answer the phone. What they got was a few laughs and intermittent sincerity. What I got was a feeling of belonging.
Now I belong to my family. I am secure in my spot on the south side of the kitchen table, and we have room for the occasional guest or two. Every so often, when I feel up to it, I brave the occasional social setting, keeping my inner Charlie Brown in check, and looking for a quiet place for me to stand and, if the mood strikes me, to hold court. At the risk of sounding like Dick Cavett, Groucho also said, "Those are my principles, and if you don't like them... well, I have others."