At the stage of life when family gatherings started to be associated with funerals, our middle generation took the reins and became more intentional.
Rallying around the theme of my mother-in-law’s 90th birthday, the eldest took the lead, offering her island home off the tip of Long Island as a gathering spot. She threw out of few dates, tallied the votes, and in no time we were on our way to our first formal reunion. Much of the planning behind the scenes remains a mystery to me, but that is the stuff of which great parties are made.
My Swiss sister-in-law kindly stepped into the role of family photo historian, and was cyber-buried in digital uploads from us shutterbugs, some complete with captions. How far we have come from sharing double prints. When The Shelter Island Reunion hardcover tome arrived by mail, mutual affection leapt off every page.
Appetite whetted, reunion book in hand, my mother-in-law took up the cry that she had yet to visit our place in Wisconsin. Never mind that this entailed both air and land travel for her. It had to be done. Now I do know what went into making this party happen, but by the time eighteen of us were in place, spirits were high, and the weather was perfect. I could not wait for the Saturday night surprise, a family trivia contest my husband and I had created. With a version for the grown grandchildren, and a second for the over-fifties, cocktails in hand, our merry band reverted to childhood roles, hooting, guff awing and competing. Mom, the center of attention, brokered conflicting memories. We gathered for dinner with much to discuss.
Reunion three plans hatched days later, this time hosted a world away. Bedecked in cardboard hats and tiaras, we toasted a year of making dreams come true. Binding three generations in a web of shared memories, we are grateful.