A cure for FOMO (or also entitled 48 hours in the company of hooting, cackling and snorting friends*)

By Reba Hull Campbell

At my age, there’s not much that can gin up a full-blown case of FOMO anymore. But when I recently realized I was the only one of my “DC supper club” girls who didn’t happen to be planning to be in the same place over a pretty spring week-end, FOMO kicked in big time.

This supper club started as a crew of Mississippians by birth, college or marriage (that would be me). We formed a supper club in the late 1980s while living in DC as young marrieds. By the mid-90s, we had scattered to new places to start families and grow careers.

But in spite of the distance over the years, we all grew our own unique individual friendships and, at the same time, created a really special group connection that’s spanned four decades.

Between us, the years have brought 15 children ranging from 24 to 40, 10 weddings, six grandchildren, numerous job changes, group travel, health challenges, football weekends, family upheavals, aging parents, and a years-long text thread that has kept us laughing, cackling, snorting and sane in spite of our daily distance. In recent years, Oxford has become a default gathering spot because four of the families have retirement homes or football condos there.

In a series of texts over several days, it became clear that five of us had different unrelated reasons to be in Oxford over a pretty spring week-end. I had no reason to be there, but I sure didn’t want to miss out on the fun. I don’t normally fall victim to FOMO, but in this case I did.

In a burst of spontaneity usually reserved only for buying cute shoes I don’t need, I bought the plane ticket to fly out the next morning. The text thread was immediately flooded with high-five emojis and smiley faces. One friend quickly offered me a room in her lovely home – although she had another of our group already staying there – plus family in town. Another offered transport options.

The husbands who joined us for dinner that Sunday just kept their distance.

The girls sat around the kitchen island gabbing and laughing, nibbling off of a fancy cheese platter and drinking nice wine while giggling at how far we’ve come from our early pot luck supper club. Plus we had one of the “children” (she’s 35) join us on Saturday.

We reminisced about hosting our first dinner parties serving gourmet chicken spaghetti or some version of a beloved family specialty. We recounted our favorite stories of helping each other with home chores like stripping decades-old wallpaper or babysitting kids in the process of potty training. We sang our favorite “Delta Dawn” like we were on the Opry.

These 48 hours with this crew reminded me that we don’t have to gather at a fancy resort, take an international trip or go to a big event to have fun together (although we do love doing all of these).

That weekend, we basked in the ease of no plans. We ate lunch at the neighborhood Mexican spot. We bought art, woodwork and popsicles at the famed Double Decker Festival. We cobbled dinner together with leftovers from the fridge. And I even had time for a run around the beautiful lake and a leisurely visit to my favorite Oxford bookstore.

This week-end reminded me of a life lesson I learned from my mom – you’ve got to be a friend to have a friend. And I’m lucky to count myself to be among this crowd. These are the friends who just jump in and do – and in this case, they cured my FOMO by making me feel loved and welcome!

But they are also the friends who …

• check in to see if you arrived home
• concoct fancy cocktails and make the wedding cakes
• know who is the early riser and who is the night owl
• make us laugh until we snort
• just pick up the phone and call
• appreciate each other’s quirks and habits
• remember to ask about ailing parents, struggling kids or new puppies
• write deep-felt thank you notes and remember birthdays
• accept that we all have widely ranging temperature needs
• remind us of our strength and resilience.

I arrived home tired but grateful for the simplicity of the time we got to spend together. Then the next day, I stumbled on this amazing poem while doing some research. It captured our moments together with perfection.

Pretty sure the poet, January Gill O’Neil, (who I later discovered had been a writer-in-residence at Ole Miss) must have been writing about this crew, because we sure did a lot of the hooting, cackling and snorting she wrote about in the poem below! And I know we all took our “joy to go” when we left.

*with full credit to January Gill O’Neal for her divinely perfect collection of these words

In the Company of Women by January Gill O’Neil

Make me laugh over coffee,

make it a double, make it frothy

so it seethes in our delight.

Make my cup overflow

with your small happiness.

I want to hoot and snort and cackle and chuckle.

Let your laughter fill me like a bell.

Let me listen to your ringing and singing

as Billie Holiday croons above our heads.

Sorry, the blues are nowhere to be found.

Not tonight. Not here.

No makeup. No tears.

Only contours. Only curves.

Each sip takes back a pound,

each dry-roasted swirl takes our soul.

Can I have a refill, just one more?

Let the bitterness sink to the bottom of our lives.

Let us take this joy to go.

 

Reba Hull Campbell is president of The Medway Group. She spends her time working with clients on writing, PR/advocacy planning, speaker training and advocacy coaching. She spends her downtime on her bikes, playing in a band, travelling, writing and reading. Reach Reba at [email protected].