In 1981, my son, Charley Matheson, graduated from Episcopal High School. It was a momentous occasion for us. We were not sure until the day before graduation that Charley would receive his diploma. There was a problem with a Russian exam. He almost failed it. The Russian teacher, who really liked Charley and knew how hard he had worked, had a heart
attack just before the exam. Charley’s was a “makeup” exam. A different person did the
grading. It was a cliffhanger. But he passed. We all were jubilant.

Charley and his friends had planned a graduation party at our home, Heathfield. This seemed
normal to me and my husband. We did not question it or have very much to do with the
planning. They wanted to use our tent from Pakistan, and the party would be in a field. It was
separate from the actual yard and the area around the swimming pool. It was late spring but
warm enough for sleeveless dresses and swimming in the pool. The day looked great, and I do
not remember worrying about a storm coming.

However, the number of people who began arriving was alarming. More and more of them
kept appearing. Charley and I did not think about chaperoning with several couples. We had
only one other couple who had a graduate, and no more. It never occurred to us that we
needed more help. We were utter novices at this sort of party for our teenagers. The events
that unfolded took us by surprise.

The boys who were planning the party with Charley had purchased the refreshments. I think
they took up a collection to pay for the food and drink. It was all taken out of our hands. I
suspect that was because they wanted to buy a lot of beer. The legal age for beer was 18 in
those days, and we were pretty lax about teenage drinking. Two years later, when Charley
decided to forego alcohol, all this changed. After that, there were many family discussions
about the dangers of alcohol and the addictive nature of it. But that was far in the future. This
party was a drunken teenage bash, unsanctioned by us. Even though we were right there in
the middle of it, we were unaware of how out of our hands it was.
As they arrived on the evening of the party, the girls looked pretty, clearly dressed up for a summer party. Many of

the boys wore tee shirts that they had made with commemorative logos for this party. More
and more people arrived. The band was supposed to play from the beginning. But they got
lost and did not arrive until near dark. Somewhere in there, thunder began to rumble in the
distance. We hoped it would pass, but it did NOT. It grew louder, and the wind began to blow.
The boys set up the tent outside of the main yard, just on the other side of a stone wall. Our
colorful tent from Pakistan had two wooden center poles and many metal side poles. When
the wind gathered force, it knocked one of those tent poles loose. It fell, hitting one of the
female guests across the nose. It did not break her nose, but there was blood, and tears and
terror to spare.
Then the rains came, along with thunder and lightning close by. It poured rain. Thunder
crashed, and lightning flashed, illuminating the way to the house. Everyone ran up the incline
to the house and crowded inside. There were 200 people at the party. We did not anticipate
this astounding number of guests. Our house was roomy, but there were too many people to
fit. I am still determining where they all went, but somehow, they were no longer outside.
Many of the guests were NOT newly graduated seniors. Many were older, and some had not
even gone to EHS. At one point, I went down to my basement storeroom to get fresh paper
towels. I found two older boys in the large storage room, talking and smoking cigarettes. They
both appeared to be in their 20s. I did not know them, and I suspected that Charley did not
know them, either.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked with authority. “Go upstairs, right now.” And they
did.
Many of the boys had brought sleeping bags and planned to spend the night. But others were
driving home. At least two of them had minor accidents after leaving Heathfield. Neither was
badly hurt, but I shudder to think of what could have happened. We were so dumb. Since we
had never experienced anything like this, we had no idea how bad it could get.
We should have had several chaperones. We should have had more hard-and-fast rules. We
should have had a guest list. We should have policed the area more. I have no idea what went
on that night. We were utterly unprepared, and damn lucky nothing horrible happened.
The music began to play after the rain ended, and people were anxious to get back outside.
We were thrilled to see them leaving the house. But the rain had soaked the grass. Any place
without grass turned into a mud hole.

There was a slight grassy bank between the upper yard and the pool. The kids began running
down the bank and jumping into the pool. Then, they began riding bikes down the bank and
into the pool. It was amazingly destructive. All this time, Charley and I and the other couple
were just hoping it would end soon. The kids did get tired, finally, and the band left. Some
people slept in tents, others crashed all over the house, and some left for home. It was loud
and long, and the rain caused the whole thing to collapse into the house for a time. But it also
tired them out. They drank a lot of beer and ate whatever food, was it pizza?
Then, finally, it was over.

I looked out of my bedroom window and saw sleeping bodies all over the place in the yard.
There was one boy I noticed who just did not appear to move. Every time I looked out, he was
in exactly the same position. We went to bed, hoping to find everybody gone in the morning.

But when the sun came up, many were still there. The scene that greeted us in daylight was horrifying. The pool was a dark brown and looked like a pond. The grass was gone from the bank, and only mud remained. The tent was down on the ground, and people were still
straggling all over the yard. Frighteningly, that same young man was in the exact position he
had been in the night before. I sent Charley, Jr. out there to wake him up. Lucky for everyone, he slowly woke up and began to move around. At that time, I did not know about the effect
that alcohol could have on a young person who drank too much. Guardian angels must have
attended that party to protect us all.
 
That was known as “The Last Party” forever after by us and everyone who attended. We had
many, many more parties at Heathfield, but none like that one. We had all learned some
important lessons. We had to sod our lawn with new grass; we had to empty our swimming
pool and have it professionally cleaned. We found something like 40 dollars in bills and some
change at the bottom of the pool, (not enough to pay for the sod, though).
Three weeks after the “Last Party,” my husband, Charley, and I celebrated our twentieth
wedding anniversary with a lovely black-tie dance held at Heathfield. Everything was in order
once more. Few people knew what a disaster area the same yard had been only 21 days
before.

Copyright©. 2024 Bonnie B. Matheson