When I was a little boy, my parents threw a party.
This being the early 70s, and my parents being sophisticated, modern people, this involved many small bowls of salted peanuts. Because in the 70s, along with cheese and pineapple on sticks, the salted peanut gave any social gathering a certain je-ne-sais-quoi, an indefinable air of worldliness that said, boldly and confidently, ‘Welcome to the jet-set’.
Now, neither my brother Bill nor I could contain our excitement at the sudden appearance of such urbane and cosmopolitan snack foods so, unable to wait even a moment, we decided to sample them immediately. And what we discovered in our impatience was that neither of us cared much for actual peanuts.
On the other hand, we loved their greasy saltiness, their immediate ‘mouthfeel’, if you will. So, instead of eating them, we just sucked them: a quick salty fix without the need for any pesky chewing. We sucked the salt off every one. And then we put them back in the bowls. Instant gratification for us: a truly disgusting party experience for everyone else.
I reckon that the demand for instant gratification is pretty much universal. I also reckon it tends to turn out badly for anyone not being gratified.
Perhaps we love a quick fix so much that sometimes even chewing our food seems like too much effort. We want it in our politics. We want it in our swipeable relationships, whether or not we know what we’re looking for. To quote the late, great Vivian Stanshall, ‘I don’t know what I want but I want it now!’
There’s a recurrent and excellent piece of advice in the Bible. It says, ‘Wait’. Wait patiently on the Lord. Don’t fret. Wait, and he will hear you. Wait, and he will save you.
Of course, that could just be a promise of pie in the sky. But I think it’s more than that. It’s an invitation to behave differently. When we wait, we think. When we wait, we can plan and be constructive. When we wait, we discover where compromise is possible; build bridges, remake relationships. Waiting opens the door to all sorts of healing.
So, this weekend I’ll take my time. I’ll eat the blinking peanuts, not just suck the salt off. And, to the people who came to my parents’ party: I’m really sorry.
You’ve waited a long time to hear that.
This is a true story.
The image is, of course, from the most emblematic of all 1970s social gatherings, Mike Leigh’s incomparable Abigail’s Party.