This is the year the family reunion came to town. Hosting privileges rotate between the cousins, who are the sons and daughters of my mother and her seven brothers and sisters, five of whom now have passed.
Roughly 40 people turned out for today’s finale at the house. They came from as far away as Boston MA, El Paso TX and South Florida. We had pizza from NABC Grant Line, then held the annual family meeting. Because a few attendees were interested in checking out the Bank Street Brewhouse, I agreed to escort them. To my mild surprise, they wanted to walk, and so walk we did. The few grew to around 20, and presently we were examining the brewing equipment and indulging in a scientific sample or three.
Ninety minutes later, and back at the homestead, things began winding down just before the rainfall around 8:00 p.m. The missus joined me on the porch as I smoked a cigar to celebrate a successful conclusion to a familial obligation that I’ll not be revisiting until some time around 2017, when I’ll be … a bit older than I am now. Who’ll be there then, and who will not?
There’s no way to know, and that’s why we play the game.
It went very well, overall, and I have no real purpose in writing this beyond marking the event for the historical record. After all, it’s my personal blog, too, even if it serves numerous other purposes. I’m exhausted at present, and there’s much to put back into place on Sunday. But surprisingly, I feel invigorated by the experience, something that I’ve not always felt after past gatherings. The belatedness of the sensation can’t be explained, although it’s appreciated.
