Let the season ring. And for this time of the year, food rules. And, at the same time, curiosity beckons with having a section I’m working on in my novel dealing with a few characters’ social lives and how their social interaction with one another depends on a weathering successful and not so successful potluck gatherings. I’m currently researching potlucks as part of a community social gig connected to characters’ lives–not so much a gig-venue, although many of them have been held at certain venues, but for a few of these characters in my novel and for different reasons, these potlucks are the lifeblood for them, their social make-up. Potlucks have their own political and economical value to them and the lives that they help preserve. It’s kind of like an East meets West with those that like other people’s cooking and not their own, a source for a community fix, or simply a way to communicate or sustain some semblance of human contact. Researching potlucks from the 1960s and 1970s has me sifting through many photos and dated cookbooks of that era. Those unencumbered jello molds, wondering what mystery is inside of them, dried cherry fruitcake, Watergate salad, of course…fondue, jet puffs, the seven layered dip, or coconut ambrosia salad (with an art display on top of it all its own). It’s been comical and cryptic going back in time because I remember seeing some of these foods on people’s tables and some, perhaps, not even giving them a second thought as I do now…comical…cryptic.