I remember coming across an essay by J.B. Priestley explaining the joy of “Not Going”, his book of short essays called “Delight” (1949). He states that the joy of not going is known only to oldsters but even as a young man, I recognized the meaning and relevance of the topic to me as soon as I read the title. When Priestley wrote about this delight, he was a good deal younger than I am now.
We may realize the big parade is about to start but skip attending. We have gone before and found it was much like it was on many occasions before that. So, we are Not Going. It is a pleasure to know that dressing, fighting traffic, waiting and getting back are all to be avoided. I am not the only one, either. Local events for seniors citizens often find that half or a quarter of those who explicitly stated they would attend are all that show up. I sympathize completely. We look over the list of coming lectures and adventures and most sound wonderful. But that is when they are months in the future. When the time actually arrives, it is too lovely out to miss the gorgeous day or too rainy or too cold or too warm. The continuous tasty pleasure of Not Going beckons irresistibly. Ok! We are Not Going! Yea!
My friend is a well-traveled, worldly and educated person, a professor of French. She confessed on the day before leaving for Paris that as usual, her house seemed extra full of delight and comfort. She was leaving this garden, these satisfactions, for airports and confusion and stress? She was familiar with the seductions of Not Going and didn’t succumb. But then, she is still young.
There are invitations that are a genuine gift to receive and that I won’t skip. I know, when I receive them, I will be there. If I respond affirmatively, I will be there. But in general, it really does add to my satisfaction, for some older-hermit reason, if they hold a big shin-dig and I am Not Going.
