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“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4)
The Golden Pony is a popular bar among locals. It is named after a line from S. E. Hinton’s novel The Outsiders. “Stay gold, Ponyboy,” Johnny whispers to his friend who lies dying in a hospital bed, encouraging him not to lose his optimism and innocence in the face of life’s harsh realities.
A waiter approaches our table of four: me, my husband and another couple I’d invited. “You all here for the show?”
The Golden Pony’s lower level is reserved for live music, bands that seem to require a lot of black leather, nose rings and electric guitars. We aren’t here for the show, however. We came for the eclectic menu of drinks: the Corn Hub, Maple Margaritas, the Buck and something called a Fernet, which happened to be tonight’s special.
“You shouldn’t have that,” the waiter says. “It’s a bottom-of-the-barrel kind of drink.” In light of this rave review, my friend orders one Fernet for us all to try.
A Fernet tastes like Coke mixed with Vicks VapoRub. After just one small sip, I can’t get the taste out of my mouth for the rest of the night.
Our table conversation turns to our lives. All of us are working parents. As we gingerly sip our drinks and dip fried cauliflower into sriracha sauce, we lean into one another’s hopes and fears — for our kids, for our world at war, for our work, which we pray might be meaningful to someone, somewhere. I’m grateful for a conversation that moves beyond small talk, one in which I don’t feel the need to paint my struggles pretty.
We linger, pushing the ticking clock on our babysitters, because we need this — good company, laughter and the encouragement of good friends to “stay gold” in a world of unrelenting, harsh realities.
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