When I was in my early twenties, my husband’s and my friends came up with an idea to begin a series of at-home concerts, of sorts. Not a terribly unique thought, but here was the twist: everyone had to bring their talents to the party. Whatever it is you did well, you had to share it with your friends in a safe setting. We decided to call it the Lonesome Home because it was a housewarming party for our buddy, Spencer.
And so, one winter night a few weeks later, we all piled into Spencer’s little campus apartment. He sketched Lonesome Home posters and taped them to the walls like it was a real concert venue. He hung paintings he’d done himself as a backdrop and as part of his contribution to our evening. (A giant painting of Darth Vader stood behind our makeshift stage.)