Finding truth among the elder young

I ALWAYS assumed that to get behind the nuts and bolts of the ‘meaning of life’ we were expected to undergo a profound life experience or undertake an intense journey of self-discovery; strange then that it was a dinner table in Irish suburbia that yielded me a peek into the sublime.

Things must be looking up again when dinner-party invites drop through the door. Back in the day when Ireland was permanently partying, they were the staple of our social life, the frequency of which could be equated to a rota type formation – Who’s next?

For all its frivolity, having parties and throwing dinners at the rate we were doing them was a lot of hard work. Before a potato was peeled, the house had to be immaculate and if it was summertime, then the garden had to be immaculate too. Chores that were put off for too long became urgent, and expensive outlays that had been postponed were purchased in haste. But it was all good because the craic was great. Sometimes it got messy but in my latter years I have deduced that everything gets messy after 1am.

Fast forward ten/fifteen years and a group of friends who are friends a long time gather around a dinner-table. Although we have lost the rota type madness of yesteryear we are good at getting together.

The night takes off from the start because there is an ease to us. We know each other well. As we settle around the table without so much as a glass of wine consumed, an impromptu sing-song starts. We all join in because it’s fun, it’s coherent and we are happy. As the dinner is served there is a collective hum of numerous conversations as we get to the nitty gritty of various life dramas.

The meal concludes with three individually lighted birthday cakes to celebrate a milestone shared by three gentlemen in the company. Thereafter a discourse ensues that unifies us. It is a conversation in which life gets documented; people have lost jobs, people have lost family, people have known illness and people are hurt by disappointment. We discuss bad fortune and good fortune and how each owns a knack of visiting us all, just not at the same time.

There was no melancholy to the evening and no dreariness; just an open acknowledgement of the unexpectedness of life. There was no joker in the pack, no ego to be fed – only a group of ageing young people telling it how it is.

As I sat there in the candlelight and looked at the same faces, it struck me that we are not the same at all. Life has changed us, life has weathered us but ultimately it has enriched us. There is an authenticity and strength to us now along with a noble pride that has defied the various falls.

At a suburban dinner table amidst the familiar, I cannot say I discovered the meaning of life but I did witness the truth of it.