My brother and sister-in-law have been having pizza night on Tuesdays since they were married in 1990. My brother was a brand new, young Wake Forest professor, my sister-in-law was a medical student at Wake Forest, and they were building their circle of friends. Jon would play volleyball, and then meet his students for pizza. Julie would join when she could.
One of Jon’s students, Mary, just kept coming for pizza night, and she still does, low these many years and many life events later. I am blessed to have a permanent seat at pizza night by way of attrition. My former spouse and I attended when we would visit every other year, and when I came to live in my brother’s spare room four years ago, I was just there. When my tiny house was ready for me to move into, I was granted a lifetime seat. Alleluia. Pizza Night stopped being at pizza parlors, and began being in the home when children began coming every two years or so from ’99 until they went to China to get the youngest one in 2011.
I am committed to Pizza Night. I never really had a family with children. My marriage was always a twosome, and family dinners were all adult with adult conversation. At my brother’s home, there are now two teenagers, two elementary students, one primary child, and Mary’s pre-school daughter. And there are the four to five adults.
Conversation is varied. We have the sports reports. My middle nephew is a font of sport knowledge and misinformation. He makes us laugh. My youngest nephew wears two watches, one on local time, and one on London time. Don’t ask. The two little girls talk about Elsa, kitties, and cheese pizza. The teenagers join in with the adults discussing the books we are all reading, local school business, and math problems. Yes, they discuss math problems.
The pizza is NOT the attraction. The time with my “peeps” IS.