Family Reunion

Every other year, on the third weekend of July, we have our family reunion. We meet at a VFW in the Catskill area of New York where a few of my cousins live. The family has been holding these reunions for almost 20 years and I look forward to each and every one of them.

The first reunion was held at my uncle's hunting lodge, a small house that sits at the top of a very steep hill. My uncle bought the house back in the 1950's and every summer the family would spend a weekend or two up there. There was another hill above where the house sat that was so steep that it could only be navigated by jeep or foot. This was called "Blueberry Hill" because at the top was a blanket of blueberry bushes that all the kids in the family loved to pick. My aunt would give us buckets to fill and then she would make us blueberry pancakes the next morning. I now buy my blueberries in a plastic container at the supermarket but as I eat them, memories of my aunt and her blueberries come flooding back to my mind.

My relatives lived in apartments in Brooklyn and Queens and the lodge was a welcome retreat from the city heat. Then, in the early '70s, my uncle suffered a major stroke, leaving him paralyzed and without speech. He was a lively, friendly man whose nickname was "gabby" but now his entire life changed. He could no longer go to the lodge at the top of that hill and the family would not go without my uncle being there.

Finally in the early '90s, my uncle's oldest daughter decided to hold our first reunion. Until then, the family would see one another at weddings and funerals since most no longer lived near each other. The first reunion gathered over 100 family members. My first cousins and second cousins brought their children and some even their grandchildren. Everyone had wonderful memories of childhood weekends spent at the lodge. Now our children were building memories of their own. Sadly, my uncle had passed away a short time before that first reunion, but I could almost imagine him smiling down upon us.

Over the years, we have lost more of the older family members, my dad being among them, and some of the young people no longer come. Now it is mostly my first and second cousins that attend. My cousins are at the age at which I can remember my aunts and uncles when I was growing up. They say that we all turn into our parents and I can see that this is very true. I see my aunts and uncles physically in my cousins' faces and in their mannerisms. I'm sure that they see my parents also in me and my brother. We had moved the reunions to a VFW because at the lodge we had to gather outside and in case of rain, the reunion would have to be cancelled.

There are only three older members left. My mother, my godmother and my aunt. They are all in their 90s. But each time we come together, there are many old stories shared among the family, especially by my two aunts. They have such wonderful memories and can tell us "younger" ones so much about the family. Even though there are only about 50 of us gathered now at these reunions, I think about the "unseen" family members. They are there also in our memories and in the stories being told. My great-grandmother is our common link and although I never met her, I have come to know her life story very well. My aunts always speak about her love and kindness towards everyone in this large family. She came to this country at the turn of the century, then her husband died of pneumonia at Ellis Island. She was left with six children. She raised them and years later, when her oldest daughter died, she raised her four boys. She welcomed every new baby into the family as if it was the first. Her love spread throughout the family as they struggled through the depression and World War II.

As I look around, I can imagine all the family members that are gone, gathering with us. I think that great-grandma would be so happy to see her family still enjoy one another's company as they come together.