Simply Hosting: How a Neighbor Became a Grandfather

What was the occasion? Who was coming over?

The first time my husband invited our almost 70-year-old neighbor over for dinner, I assumed he’d decline the offer. He and my husband had barely struck up a friendship that afternoon, while I had only made occasional small talk with him over the years, mostly about our energetic puppy, Maple.

To my surprise, Larry accepted the dinner invitation.

What did you do to prepare for your guests to arrive?

Using my instant pot, I pressure cooked a whole chicken as I often did, using paprika, garlic, rosemary, onions and bone broth. Besides that, my family set the table with chipped plates and mismatched silverware.

The children made sure to fill a water glass for Larry and set his place with a strip of paper towel (we are often hard-pressed for napkins).

How did you feel about the overall state of your home? How did that feeling influence you, as a hostess?

While I do throw a lovely dinner party with cutlery, glassware, and floral arrangements (see exhibit A below), that was not the intention of this evening.

Instead, my dinner table felt warm and welcoming in a rustic, homey way, and I was happy with that. As for the house, I wiped down the bathroom and swept, but did little in the way of picking up toys or washing the pots and pans.

I had a scraggly bouquet of fresh cut sunflowers on the table, but that was the only “decoration.”

Upon entering, the dog made sure to lick Larry properly so he wouldn’t “need a shower” (his words), and my husband greeted him with a big bear hug.

To my dismay, however, my children committed their usual dinner tomfoolery—they pushed their food around, talked over one another, and got up without being dismissed.

This single man, who had never had children of his own, was witnessing mine in their natural habitat. I feared he’d be overwhelmed—or worse, judgmental. Instead, Larry brought positivity and perspective to the situation.

“Hey, your mom made a nice meal,” he told them. “You’re lucky kids.”

“It’s not that nice of a meal,” I admitted. “Kinda dry.”

“Not at all,” he said pleasantly. “It’s plenty moist for chicken.”

I thanked him, though I knew the truth. For some reason, my go-to chicken recipe had turned out drier than usual. I felt embarrassed feeding a subpar meal to this near stranger, but what was I to do? He’d already accepted the invitation and he seemed genuinely grateful to share a meal with us.

What do you remember most fondly from the get-together?

The wild thing about that random dinner invitation on a Sunday night was that Larry kept coming back for more meals with us, despite the wild children and my imperfect cooking. It was because of these things, I suppose, that he found us good company.

As a bachelor, he doesn’t cook much for himself, so a home-cooked meal is a highlight of his week. While I continue to cringe inwardly at my children’s behavior in his presence, Larry seems, dare I say, charmed by the chaos of family life. It’s as if it brings him a strange peace each time he sits at our paint-smattered, glitter-flecked table.

No matter what I’m making, whether it’s homemade chicken pot pie or frozen pizza, Larry hardly ever declines an invitation.

My six-year-old daughter recently acquired the role of middle child. Her jealousy and attention-seeking behaviors sometimes exhaust us as her parents. But Larry, blessed man, has stepped in as a grandfatherly role in her life.

She loves to invite him on our family walks each night and play toss with him in our front yard. Larry even swings her above his 6’7” head three or four times before saying good night.

“I’m flying!” she exclaims, giggling and reaching her arms towards the studded night sky.

Larry laughs too. He is enamored with this little girl who relishes being the center of his attention. (Our dog also finds his attention agreeable.)

And so it is that a spontaneous dinner invite on a night when I made dry chicken has ushered a grandfather figure into our lives. We’ve even spent Christmas and Easter together, and my daughter and I hosted him on his birthday. We even made him a homemade cake.

To make Larry feel welcome in our home, I take the simplest road: an invitation at least once a week on a night when I’ve made enough dinner to share, because I once read that it’s not the quality of a meal that counts but the company kept.

I believe this wholeheartedly, although I know Larry prefers my chicken pot pie to about anything.

Nothing makes me gladder in this world than to know someone is a little less lonely in the world because of my kitchen table.

Editor’s note: Thankfully, hosting doesn’t have to be complicated to be meaningful. Simply Hosting highlights the simple ways we show others they are welcome, whether for a quick afternoon visit or a long weekend. If you’d like to share how you welcome others into your home, review our Readers Write guidelines here.