By Saturday, June 8th. My friend Elena's wedding — she and I went through teacher certification together at NIU, and I almost did not come because I was tired and it was a long drive to the venue in the western suburbs and I was introverted in ways that weddings test. But I came. I put on the dress, a green one that I bought at the Goodwill on 18th Street and which fits correctly, and I drove to the venue and I was glad every minute that I came.
There was a man at the cocktail hour who had also not come to know anyone particularly well. His name is Ryan Kowalczyk — Ryan, no relation, same last name. He is a Chicago Fire Department firefighter-paramedic, from Bridgeport, and he was at the wedding because the groom is his cousin. He said "Kowalczyk" when he introduced himself and I said "Also Kowalczyk" and he said "Are we related?" and I said "Not unless your grandfather ran a plumbing company in Oak Lawn." He said his grandfather was in Bridgeport. We established that we were not related and then we talked for the next two hours.
He is easy to talk to. Direct. He listens when you are talking, the way that some people do not. He asked about my job and I explained the classroom and the kids and the blog and he asked follow-up questions about each one. He said "SpEd teachers are saints" and I said "I don't think of it that way" and he said "How do you think of it?" and I said "Someone has to be paying attention to the right kids" and he said "Yeah, exactly." I had the first date sense — that feeling of: this is worth continuing. We exchanged numbers at the end of the night.
Drove home to Pilsen at eleven-thirty through the June dark with the windows down, the city air warm, thinking about the conversation. He texted when I got home: "Made it okay?" I said yes. He said "Good. First date: somewhere on Western Avenue?" I said yes. That easily. Yes, that easily, because some things you just know. I drove home thinking about the classroom and the year that had just ended and the summer ahead and now also this. A good night. A very, very good night.
I don’t even remember exactly what was in the punch at Elena’s cocktail hour — just that it was cold and sweet and I was holding a glass of it when Ryan said “Kowalczyk” and I said “Also Kowalczyk.” Something about that drink, that particular kind of easy, fizzy sweetness you only get at a summer wedding, has stayed with me. This grape punch is the closest I’ve gotten to recreating that feeling — the kind of thing you bring to a gathering not knowing it’s going to be a night you remember forever.
Grape Punch
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 1 bottle (64 oz) purple grape juice, chilled
- 1 can (12 oz) frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
- 2 liters ginger ale or lemon-lime soda, chilled
- 1 cup white grape juice, chilled
- 1/2 cup pineapple juice, chilled
- Ice ring or ice cubes, for serving
- Fresh grapes and lemon slices, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Combine juices. In a large punch bowl, stir together the purple grape juice, thawed lemonade concentrate, white grape juice, and pineapple juice until fully combined.
- Add soda. Just before serving, slowly pour in the chilled ginger ale or lemon-lime soda. Pour gently along the side of the bowl to preserve the carbonation.
- Add ice. Place an ice ring or a generous amount of ice cubes into the punch bowl to keep it cold without diluting it too quickly.
- Garnish and serve. Float fresh grapes and lemon slices on top if desired. Serve immediately in punch cups or glasses.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 145 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 37g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 20mg