As a child, I attended family reunions on my father’s side in West Virginia. My dad was one of seven children, and his father was one of ten and his father one of twelve. Attending those reunions was fun and filled with family from everywhere. I remember my Aunt Lulu dressed head-to-toe in purple, my grandfather’s brother Dale because he had a dog, and meeting several silly-named relatives with big hair and bigger hearts. Do you have anyone named Kermit, Frieda, Amos, or Homer in your family? I do.
We also had yearly family reunions on my maternal grandmother’s side with a farmhouse full of Irish folks. One family came from Hollywood, and it was always a big deal when the California cousins came to town. They were a loud, rowdy, and wild bunch who were like movie stars who blew into town all tanned and theatrical from the west coast in their white camper pick up truck.
In my movie club, the topic for the monthly discussion was Agnes Moorehead movies, the one I watched was “Our Vines Have Tender Grapes.” I picked it for the actors, but the storyline also included a cousin’s relationship of mischief and angst. A few days later, there was another classic movie, “An American Romance” from 1944 where two male cousins reunite as new immigrants in America. The romance is not between those two, this LA Story is not about kissing cousins.
I remember sleeping over at my second cousins’ house once, her grandmother and my grandfather were siblings, and our dads were first cousins who were closer than any two friends or siblings. Anyhoo, I got sick and vomited. My cousins had never barfed before, and my cousin’s mom didn’t know what to do with me. I couldn’t believe this mother didn’t know how to be toilet side with a sick child, to hold my hair back and let me know everything was going to be ok. She was off having a panic attack because I dirtied her bleach cleaned bathroom.
Another close cousin was the first to arrive after the death of my father. She appeared as if teleported through space to help us navigate those shocking and sacred moments when the funeral home staff arrived to transport my father, her uncle, from the hospital bed in the family room to their van in the driveway.
While talking with my movie club about Agnes Moorehead movies, my friend mentioned his upcoming plans to meet his cousins at the beach for their yearly get together. His mom, who was one of eight siblings (two nuns), used to plan the annual reunion, but she has since passed and he plans the reunion now. It’s only he and his sister, and without the rest of his kinfolk, he feels they would drift into orbit alone.
One of my colleagues shared she was going away over the holiday weekend with her Ukrainian cousins; one “loaded” cousin is covering the bill for them to stay at the Four Seasons in Maryland. Generous, road trip worthy, and kind cousins are the best.
Another colleague recently attended the wedding of her cousin’s daughter and the whole large Italian family of aunts, uncles (one priest) and cousins (one priest) and cousins’ kids travelled across the country to a remote mountain town in California for the festivities. The invite read, “dress attire: mountain chic.”
My husband has some hair-raising stories with one of his closest cousins. This cousin once drove an original Jeep from the army and took me for a ride. He thought it would be fun to drive up an incline, I jumped out before it almost tipped over backward.
My father-in-law’s family is even bigger than my mother-in-law’s. She was one of seven siblings, he was one of ten children, and each of those ten had no less than two children and most had six or more. One of my father-in-law’s sisters, at the time of her passing at the ripe age of 99, had 100 descendants just from she and her husband. My husband’s little sister was the 56th cousin in that clan.
What are some of your favorite cousin stories? I hope they are worth remembering. Perhaps you could reach out to one today or plan a family reunion, because getting together is good for the soul.
