07.12.08
A reunion of sorts.
I spent this afternoon at a family get-together at my mother’s home in 87 degree sunny heat. Daniel couldn’t come because he had to work.
Mom’s house was closed up tight, and the two one room air conditioners on the second floor were not enough to keep up with the BTU’s being put out by my clan, which included extended family, close friends and neighbors, and coworkers and their accompaniments, even with several ceiling fans running on high. This was the first time Mom had all her kids together since this past Christmas. Let me tell you about the food!
When I arrived, the first seating had been over for more than an hour, and the second seating was about to begin. I had just enough time to move through the group shaking hands and kissing and hugging everyone hello. All the food was taken out of the ‘frig and unwrapped. The accompanying sauces, condiments, pickles, olives, chips, munchies, etc. were dispersed along with the food throughout the kitchen and dining room. Any and every flat surface available became a serving table. We had BBQ beef ribs; BBQ chicken; teriyaki marinated and baked chicken, which Mom made at 5:00 in the morning because she didn’t think she had enough food for the crowd that was coming; Mom’s world famous potato salad; shrimp salads, yes there were two different kinds; cucumber salad, cole slaw, meat and cheese platters, three kinds of bread, two kind of rolls, baked ziti with extra side sauce, cheese cake, pastries, cookies, chocolates, crumb cakes, nut breads, pumpkin bread, and a very large layer cake purchased from a local specialty cake shop.
Eating and conversation go hand in hand in my family, and I’m sure my family is not unique in this regard. I can’t remember a single family event over the course of the past fifty hears when there has been a moment when someone wasn’t eating. The “kids” caught up on each other’s lives, the “seniors” caught up on each other’s lives, and then just about everyone repeated what they had already said to the “other” group. The grandkids interrupted nearly every conversation with a demand, complaint, “watch me” request, tattletale, shriek, scream, or tearful recollection of some affront by another grandkid.
There were multiple near-misses and near falls, and stumbles with exclamations of “didn’t break”, that referred to a plate, glass or bone. Thankfully there was no blood. Had there been, I as the resident healthcare professional would have been expected to “go to work”. There were several exclamations along the lines of, “OPW is here so we don’t have to worry about anyone getting hurt”, from several of the “seniors” present, some of whom were drinking concoctions stronger than the iced tea and lemonade on the tables. If you analyze this statement, you’d think I was a super hero who possessed superpowers of some kind, as if I can prevent catastrophes from occurring. Hmm, I should charge a fee for this. I wonder what my costume should look like, or what graphic should be on my cape?
There was of course the obligatory photo posing session; Mom’s kids; “the” kids which included cousins; everyone which included the grandkids and “senior” family members. Then there were the brothers photos, and “candid” photos, all of which were taken with three different cameras, owned by three different people. There were the “devil horn” photos; sneezing photos; “say cheese” photos as well as “other” words photos; the “oops I blinked” retakes; the “I had my eyes closed” retakes, and finally the “oops I moved” spoken by the “photographer” retakes, not to mention the “I gotta pee”, “I gotta change my blouse/shirt”, “I gotta comb/brush my hair” and “I gotta lose some weight” while repositioning themselves to look slimmer, delays.
The most memorable part of this visit was the brief period of time when my sister and I shared our writings with each other. We found a quiet spot in Mom’s plant room and closed the door. She read me her poetically written children’s stories, and I read her some of my poems. We were interrupted only three times, which for my family is a miracle. We’ve both become serious about writing over the past few years, and it’s nice to get feedback from a family member who can offer a critical opinion when the “writers caps” are put on.
Another memorable moment was when an aunt commented to the “kids”, “Play nice!” It’s nice to be one of the “kids” at the age of fifty, and hey I get to sit at the grown-ups table!
O.P.W.