The Reunion

Finally, the days we came for.  Two days to spend with family from all over the country and Canada.  There will be cousins from Washington, Idaho, Montana, Florida, Pennsylvania, Virginia, South Carolina, Michigan, Arkansas, Ohio, and everything in between. Even a few who live on an island off the northeast coastline.  We've had these reunions about every three years or so since I was a kid.  One by one my aunts and uncles have passed away; most of them lived long lives, several were taken suddenly via the heart attack route. Three remain, still, and it's a privilege to spend time together when we have the chance.

So now it's the cousins, many of whom are older than the aunts and uncles were when this reunion got started. Not nearly all of them can make it every time; coming together from such great distances, we seldom meet, except for the funerals that thrust themselves into our lives.  Those of course are sad, whereas the family gatherings are fun times, catch-up times.

Day one found us at Canyon Creek Ranch, a place tucked 'way back in the desert, ringed by rugged mountains and the ever-present cactus, sand, and scrub.  The Ranch is a miniature old-west town complete with church, saloon, inn, jail, shops, horses, roping, ax-throwing, and food, food, food.  A giant mesquite tree with huge over-hanging branches sheltered rows of picnic tables.  Two bonfires were crackling and drawing us to their edges because on this day of all days, it was overcast, rainy, and a stiff breeze was keeping us all chilled.  The Arizona relatives told us they would be rejoicing at the few drops of rain that fell were it not for the reunion plans.  The Ohio relatives volunteered to accept responsibility for the rain since rained-out events are a way of life in their part of the country.  The Idaho crowd figured the blame was theirs for much the same reason and in the end they were allowed to keep it.

The heaps of roasted meat, baked beans, corn-on-the-cob, salads, and desserts helped to warm us all and kept starvation at bay. Before we could digest lunch it was time for supper.  Most of us were willing to put on a show of hunger though and we ate with gusto again.  Pork chops with kraut, potatoes, more salad, more dessert.

After supper a couple of the guys got out guitars and the music started.  Requests were called out and played.  Songs in English, songs in German, silly songs, serious songs, hymns.  Finally, too tired to hold a tune and too full to eat more food we all returned to our hotels to rest up for the next day.

Day two was at a park in Black Canyon City.  Bright, sunny, and perfect.  We met for church, out by the ball field.  A guest speaker, a local pastor friend of the Arizona clan, spoke words of truth that cut to the heart of things.

We made our plans for the next reunion, three years from now, to be in Idaho.  Brainstorming started in little clusters about who can take off for how long and travel by car, train, plane, or motorcycle.  I think planning these things is almost as much fun as doing them.  And then it was time for brunch.  Breakfast casseroles, pastries, fruit, and an end to all diets.

In years past, my uncle John and his daughter, my cousin Ruth, were both laid to rest in the cemetery out back.  Groups of us wandered by and spent time visiting them, talking about them, laughing with memories of them, missing them.

In the afternoon some of us decided to hit the walking trails surrounding the park.  Beautiful plants, a flowering cactus here and there, a landscape as foreign to this Ohio girl as the moon.  With the sun shining down on a lot of pasty-white snowbird skin, sunscreen came out, hats were put on, and my cousin Clara from back east carried a bright blue umbrella; seeing it bobbing up and down as she wound her way along the trails just made me feel happy.

We took pictures of the plants and pictures of each other and pictures of each other with the plants.  We took family pictures, cousin pictures, sibling pictures, cute kid pictures, crazy pictures and even food pictures.

The cousins

For many years I took my family for granted, barely giving them a thought.  But the older I get, the more I realize how important they are, how much they had a hand in making me who I am.  Several of us cousins hadn't seen each other in decades.  Renewing acquaintances, reminiscing about childhoods spent together and sharing tragedies and triumphs since - these are literally the ties that bind us together and give us a sense of stability and solidarity, a sense of belonging.  Our families can drive us crazy but they can also hold us when we're falling apart.  There's something about seeing your nose on someone else's face that defines the genetic glue bonding you together.

All too soon it was time to say good-bye again, with always the unspoken thoughts in many of our minds.  What will take place before we see each other again?  Will we see each other again?  These are the times I am grateful I believe in an afterlife that's so much more than here.  Whether it's here, or whether it's there, I will see them again. With a whole new bunch of memories to laugh and talk about.