Salon or So Long?

As a child I was lucky enough to be embraced as a "mascot" to the adult gatherings. The adult gatherings that produced heated debate over politics, government, philosophy, religion and art. Amidst the dysfunction of an extended family that shared similar ancestry but little more, the "idea" was always given fair consideration; even if the individual was not.

Among the food, wine and brandies, cigarettes and cigars, I learned some basic guidelines to turning thoughts and feelings into powerful sentences. I learned to listen carefully as not to miss the hidden meaning (because there was always a "hidden meaning"). I learned to watch the body language and see the "tells" that trumpeted the transformation of the idea into belief and belief into value. Once value was established, the conversation would become more robust. Sometimes ending with a slamming door and an abrupt departure. Ah, the evening was a success.

As a teen, my friends were a collection of diverse intellect and interests. There were the studious, the hippie, the jocks, the popular, the artistic and the few that were simply searching. A family friend was visiting my parents while I was entertaining my "peeps". He was European and his connection to the family was a mystery to me. He commented that I had "created an interesting assortment of disciplines for salon." "Really? Thanks. Gotta go." "Salon?" "Right."

A number of years later in college, as I sat wide-eyed through world history, world literature, art history and philosophy courses, that word "salon" always popped up. Salon: a gathering of intellectual, social, political and cultural elites under the roof of an inspiring hostess or host, partly to amuse one another and partly to refine their tastes and increase their knowledge through conversation. The salon was distinguished from other gatherings by its absence of social hierarchy and its mixing of different social ranks and orders.

Salon? Isn't that just a party or a visit to the coffee shop or an after-party debate?

I conjectured that this concept of "salon" was a forced discussion, improvisation or "study group." I imagined preparing notes and debate strategies before going to someones home. Why such structure for a social gathering? Can we discuss sex too?

As I learned more about the history of salon and the role of women in the facilitation of some of the more famous salons of the 17th and 18th centuries, the more the concept intrigued me. I want to be a salonniere! So once I sent invitations out to "join me for salon". My invitees began to question - what does that mean? What do we wear? Am I suppose to bring something? Yeah, really, sounds like fun Coralee. The gathering was a bomb; one guy was actually sitting in the corner reading the newspaper.

And, so I began planning my clandestine salon. I would get my guests to the house under the pretense of food, wine and frivolity. And then, I would spark a debate. I would throw topics out for discussion to enlighten and amaze. I would loft differing opinions into the air and see where the idea would land and what conversation would it ignite.

Sometimes we have salon, sometimes we have silly conversations over football, sex and which character on Friends is the most likable. Once we spent five hours laughing over who had the most embarrassing public bathroom experience.

I have given up my idea of having "salon". I just sit with friends and we talk about whatever. . .sometimes we sit in the kitchen.

The topic today is Rhode Island; its neither a road nor an island; discuss.