We Are Fam-i-ly!

Last weekend we were lucky enough to attend the familial circus of another family reunion in conjunction with my grandmother’s 85th birthday. It was an especially meaningful trip since my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer this past year, and I’ve been looking forward to spending more time with her. She, on the contrary, has been looking forward to spending more time with her only great-grandbabies—our kids—who she claims are the cutest and smartest kids ever. (Not sure I can argue with that one).

So we set out Friday for the two-day whirlwind trip to the family reunion of the century. On my mom’s side, the family members we consider my close relatives still include many second, third and fourth cousins, some twice removed (or whatever you call it). My grandmother was the youngest of nine kids so it gets pretty complicated. (My wonderful mother-in-law, the genealogist, could probably have it mapped out in ten minutes). We usually spend at least a small portion of any given family gathering trying to figure out what the official terms are, then give up and swear that one day we’ll write it all down.

So, with such a spread of relatives making up the the Usual Clan, it was quite the sight as the parade of even more distant relatives continued to pour in to my aunt's home. The Usual Clan agreed that there were definitely more people there we didn’t know than those we did. As my uncle said prior to the cake cutting, “…look around and introduce yourself to someone next to you. Because even if you’ve never seen the person in your life, chances are you’re related!” Altogether we had a grand time, characterized by the pitter-patter of hundreds of kid feet traipsing from the bouncy house to the pool, some unabashed antics from the keg squatter crowd, and a lot of good, old fashioned cheek pinching to accompany the exclamations of, “my how you’ve grown!”

All the grandkids and great-grandkids

Once the 150 to 200 people had come and gone, I finally got some time to chat with the guest of honor. Despite all of my grandmother’s pain and suffering, her spunk is still very much alive, and she willingly shared wisdom and many memories. She told stories of the love and happiness that filled her home growing up, even in the midst of sacrifice and hunger during the Great Depression. She also spent some time reflecting on her one and only love, my grandfather (who died when I was seven). I tried to burn as many things in to my memory as possible, especially these words of wisdom that really resonated with me:


“Your Grandfather and I were so different. And so stubborn! We used to say that the only thing we agreed on is that we both hated the color red! But sometimes, that’s all you need. We were so in love… and every day we made that choice—to keep loving each other.”


I want to remember this concept—that every day I must choose love. Not just when interacting with my own family, but with all those I come in contact with daily at work and outside of work. When I look back on my life, I hope that—like my grandmother—I can say that I made the conscious choice to love each and every day in the best and worst of times…and that I made the most of each memory, crazy relatives and all!

Apparently my brother recalled an awesome mid-jump picture 

of Peter and I at the last reunion 5 years ago and wanted to try it again. 

Didn't turn out quite the same...

Family!

Opening her birthday present--a Great-Grandma "Brag Book"

...and the Craziness ensues...