Wear a flapper dress and meet us in the cemetery…

The year was 2007. With a degree in anthropology one might assume I would have found myself deep in the basements of the Smithsonian, but no. I spent my days moving through the gracious space that is the Thomas Jefferson Building of the Library of Congress. I did have friends at the Smithsonian, though, and one of them told me to join their Resident Associate Program (RAP). I’ll admit, it was–and I’m sure still is– very cool. The RAP arranges evening educational classes, normally 6 weeks long, every Wednesday from 6pm to 9pm. I took classes on French gardens, Venetian art, and Forensics. During one of the breaks of that Forensics class the instructor and I talked about books – we both like mysteries. He said, “You should join the Mystery Writers of America!” To which I replied, “I don’t write.” No problem, he said, just join as an associate member. He assured me it would be fun. So, I wrote out a check, filled out the paper form, and sent it all away in an envelope with a stamp (this was a while ago). Two days later I received a telephone call thanking me for joining and asking if I’d like to attend a gathering they were having the next day, a lovely Saturday in July. “Sure!” I said. The reply was this: “Great! Wear a flapper dress and meet us in the cemetery in Potomac, Maryland.” Random, but fine. I was up for the challenge. Turns out MWA was having a their annual Gatsby Summer party that day. The event started with cocktails near the graves of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. From there we went to one of the author’s homes where we played croquet and drank gin and tonics. And, right then I knew – I had found my people.