When her oldest son
graduated from high
school this spring,
Lori Millard threw a
memorable party.
A guitarist played
for the dancers
around the pool
behind her
Chanhassen home.
Guests piled into a
mobile photo booth,
recording nearly 200
silly pictures. She
served customized
M&M's with Ben's
name on them and
gave out water
bottles bearing the
image of his face.
"I tend," she said,
"to go a little over
the top on these
things."
The high-school
graduation party --
once little more
than mints and
cashews on a card
table in the
driveway -- is
becoming a
mega-event around
the metro, in some
cases complete with
glistening chocolate
fountains and
drive-in-sized movie
screens.
Caterers say they're
feeling more and
more like weddings,
and vendors
supplying party
fixings say they're
getting fancier by
the month.
"Tent size is
creepin' up," said
Kim Way, an events
planner with A-Z
Rental, as she stood
beside a 30-by-45
model on the
golf-course-like
lawn of an Eden
Prairie mansion.
"Real linens and
skirting doubled
this year over last.
Tents almost
doubled. It's
phenomenal," she
said.
Even as they grow in
size, they're
growing in number.
As the baby boomlet
-- children of the
postwar baby boomers
-- become teens, the
number of high
school seniors in a
given year today in
Minnesota is huge:
nearly 16,000 higher
than it was just a
decade ago, with
almost all of the
growth in Twin
Cities suburbs.
But just as swelling
homes inspired the
Minnesota-rooted
"Not So Big House"
movement, so is
party inflation
inspiring its own
national
countermovement,
with Minnesota
origins. A
University of
Minnesota professor
best known for his
critique of manic
family calendars has
helped launch a
Web-based campaign
aimed at throttling
back on what he
calls an "arms race"
among guilt-beset
parents.
"A very small number
of parents are
driving this," said
Bill Doherty, a
professor of family
social science at
the University of
Minnesota. "But what
happens is, the
standards are being
ratcheted up.
Parents feel that if
they don't do these
things, they're
dishonoring their
kids. I don't want
to wag my finger at
people, but there's
very little gain
that comes from
having a $5,000
graduation party
versus a $200 one.
"Exactly!" exclaimed
Sheryl Rose, of Eden
Prairie, who threw a
graduation party for
her son Thursday
night. "We borrowed
tables and chairs
from the church I
work at. I'm pretty
much making the food
myself. In fact, my
son and I are
cutting fruit at
this moment. I've
been making pulled
pork for three days.
It's more personal,
homemade stuff. It's
an 'us' party."
To cap it off, she
sewed a number of
Justin's athletic
jerseys into a quilt
-- an awesome
gesture, in the view
of sister-in-law
Ginger Venable, also
of Eden Prairie, and
one of the forces
behind the
parent-guiding
website,
graduationparty.com.
Parents financing
some of the big
productions say they
are impressed with
the more
personalized
parties. And amazed
at how parents
manage it.
"These people must
have a lot of free
time," Allan Hickok
of Eden Prairie said
as workers assembled
the party tent on
his lawn. "I don't
have time to watch
TV."
He and his wife,
Bonnie, who attended
more than a dozen
early-season
graduation parties
and kept an eye out
for trends, said
there was "much more
homemade food than
we expected to see."
They spoke wryly of
one "impossibly
cheery mom" who must
have been laboring
for days. They also
saw a lot of Famous
Dave's, Buffalo Wild
Wings and Chipotle.
At the Hickoks'
party Friday night
for their son Cole,
there was a wide
array of Mexican
food under the big
tent to tempt
guests.
Brad Riley, 18, was
impressed. "It's one
of the nicest grad
parties I've been
to," he said. "I
think it's a good
way to send your kid
off to college with
good memories. They
get to see all their
friends."
Other kids say they
like having a wide
range of parties to
attend, no matter if
it's a big
production or a more
modest one.
"I've probably been
to more than 20,"
said Steve
Frankenfield, an
18-year-old
Minnetonka grad.
"Everything from a
card table on the
lawn to a full
concert stage and
dance floor -- a
great party that
went on pretty much
all day. Some kids,
it's just best
friends, others
throw invites off
the bridge in the
Commons."
The pros say there's
a spectrum running
across the metro
that probably peaks
at mansions at the
edge of Lake
Minnetonka, and then
descends as you go
eastward toward more
modest
neighborhoods,
though it spikes
again once you reach
the pricier lake
homes in
Minneapolis.
"This is our first
full summer offering
outdoor movies,
which is definitely
for more upscale
parties," said Terry
Iverson, of
Hastings-based
Twilight Zone
Outdoor Cinema.
"It's fairly
expensive for a grad
party, although
these clients don't
ask the price,"
which can run around
$1,000 with travel.
But even in
wealthier suburbs,
not every family can
swing an expensive
party, and critics
of supersizing say
it's one thing that
concerns them.
Doherty said there
have been studies of
low-income mothers
going "into debt to
honor their
children, when they
could do it
differently, but it
feels like they
wouldn't be honoring
their children."
He's also convinced,
though, that it's a
way for earnestly
nonshowy Minnesotans
to show off.
"We're more willing
to be conspicuous
about our kids than
ourselves. It's not
L.A. or New York.
You don't see many
Rolls-Royces or mink
coats. But you do
see these big
parties. The
neighbors will
admire you for how
much you love your
children."
As for Lori Millard,
the rows upon rows
of happy people on
the website
containing the
pictures from the
photo booth --
including her son's
grandparents, caught
in a bit of a smooch
-- serve as mute
testimony to the
happy atmosphere she
created for a whole
lot less than the
nearly $30,000 spent
on the average
wedding.
"I have three sons,"
she said. "The way I
look at it, I don't
get to 'do' a
wedding. This is my
'wedding.' "
Rich Tsong-TaaTarii
contributed to this
report.
David Peterson •
612-673-4440. •
dapeterson@startribune.com
