Sounds a little odd, I know, but that's what we had. No last-minute prep, no save-this-date emails, no frantic searching for addresses (postal or email) to notify folks . . . .
It started simple and just snowballed into a houseful of kids, grandkids, greatgrands--food--a little work--lots of laughs--and four generations of people related to each other.
It all started the middle of the month. My oldest daughter, from Arizona, arrived on the 14th of August after a four-day professional conference in Philadelphia. We had three days together. Then my youngest daughter, from Minnesota, arrived on the 18th, making the head count three. On the 23rd, my Ohio daughter came for a visit--taking a day out of her vacation and gardening tasks, to bring garden produce and fruit from her trees. We had afternoon tea, complete with little sandwiches (with the crusts cut off, of course), home-baked gluten-free scones with butter and two kinds of preserves (strawberry and apricot), fresh fruit, sliced cheese, and gluten-free brownies. And tea, naturally.
Then on the 25th, my son, his wife, their son, and two grandkids (my great grands) came. They brought produce from their garden. I thought I was living in a farmer's market.
The Ohio daughter came back for her brother's visit on Saturday, the 25th. She brought more garden produce.
As time was getting away from us and the evening was growing darker, I realized I was hungry--and so might everybody else be. My son and I surveyed the contents of the fridge and came up with mini pizzas: corn tortillas covered with tomato sauce (some home-canned pasta sauce helped), chopped lunchmeat, shredded cheese, and Italian seasoning. My great-granddaughter helped--I learned she loves to cook! Must get that from her grandpa. He supervised the prep and helped her transfer the pans of pizzas to the heated broiler. All nine of us ate at least three, and maybe four or five, of the minis.
(The impromptu mini pizzas reminded me of the parable of the loaves and fishes--all the people ate and were satisfied and there were 12 basketfuls left over. We didn't have leftovers, but I think everyone was filled.)
My son and daughter-in-law had brought a marinated cucumber-onion salad, so we passed that around together with a dish of tomatoes from the Ohio garden--all sizes and colors. There were also new pickles from the bounty of my son's cucumber patch--Lime Pickles (a Pennsylvania Dutch recipe handed down through the Hofer side of the family), and newly minted dills (still fermenting, according to my son).
It was all spontaneous and noisy and fun.
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As the years go by, getting my four children together for a visit grows more difficult. Each of them has commitments--jobs, families, regular activities--and sometimes it's impossible to just pick up and go.
We were blessed to have this opportunity. With all of us living in separate communities--two of us in Indiana, but over an hour apart by car; one in Ohio, one in Arizona, and one in Minnesota--we rely on phones and Internet and USPS (I still mail birthday cards at the P.O.) to keep in touch. Some of us are on Facebook, where sharing photos and events is easy to do.
But with all the wonderful inventions to help us keep in touch, nothing beats face-to-face get-togethers. Yes, it's old-school--much like the family reunions at Grandma and Grandpa's house that were held outside where everyone had room to stand or sit. (My Jenkins grandparents had 10 children, 26 grandchildren--if my math is correct--and many, many greatgrands.) In later years, as families moved farther away, a city park became the most practical venue, so that everyone could participate and nobody had to clean house, or prepare all the food, or look for the right number of chairs, not to mention tables.
The time may come when I'll attend a family reunion via Skype. For the present, I'll show up in person.
