Reunion on the 4th

My dad's birthday is on the 4th of July. He's quiet and unassuming, so he never makes a big deal out of the event, but I definitely grew up thinking that his birthday was a big deal. I mean, all the people, all the celebration, all the fireworks! Who else gets fireworks for their birthday? The illusion was perpetuated, at least in part, by the wild shindigs my grandparents threw every year, first in their stately old home with the suburban backyard and friendly neighbors, and later in their newly built larger home deep in the woods. In my memory these gatherings were always part birthday party and part 4th of July celebration, but the largest portion was a reunion of sorts, a meeting of long-time friends and family with catching up to do.

I don't actually remember how often they threw these parties. In my memory they were an annual thing until they sort of petered out, probably as kids (my generation) got older and other activities got in the way. When I was younger, there were great big tubs of beer and pop, high chairs littered the back patio, and we spent the evening lighting black carbon snakes in the driveway. I remember the smell vividly. The last party I really remember I was in middle school, or maybe high school. My dad was wearing a weird short-sleeved plaid shirt and a mustache, and his cake, made by a talented family friend, was shaped like a computer—the old desktop kind with a big monitor and clunky keyboard (only at the time it wasn't old).

So partying on the fourth has a long tradition in our family, just one that hasn't been exercised in an number of decades larger than one. As all extended families do, ours scattered to the call of school, work, and the next generation. Some of those revelers I haven't seen in nigh on twenty years. In that time the kids of my generation have gotten married and had children of their own. Others, like my grandparents, have passed away. In all those years, a lot has changed. If you go too long between reunions, you don't always recognize the people you are there to see.

So my dad's cousins held the reunion this year, down in Indiana farm country where my grandfather's baby sister is still living with many of her children, and their children, surrounding her. She is the last of her generation, her three brothers gone before her, but she is sharp and young at heart, and it was her birthday, actually later in the month, that brought us all together this year. We spent three days playing with cousins we see more regularly, and getting to know those we haven't seen in many years, in some cases ever. There was a big hill good for all kinds of play, trees for climbing, and a field that proved perfect for kickball. And while the kids roamed far and wide, the adults huddled together, sharing memories of the past and details of the present, our tight groups a stark contrast to the great openness of the heartland around us. Because that's  what a family reunion is about.

Father's Day

For three years now, Jon's greatest wish for his special day has been the County Parks pancake breakfast and nature hike, followed by fun in the splash park (it is the child in him that makes him such a great dad. Well, that and a lot of other things). Unfortunately, last year they cancelled the breakfast for lack of response in preregistartion, so he was pretty excited to see it back on the calendar for this year, and we were up and out the door in time to stake our claim at the craft table and in the pancake and sausage line.

As it turned out, we only had to fight one other family for glue and syrup. Unfortunately, that probably means the event's days are numbered, but we were thankful to enjoy the beautiful morning together at least one more year. It was warm, but not hot, breezy, but not windy, and sporadically sunny. On the hike we identified some avian favorites and spotted a "frogpole" (see photo below). After the hike the guys played in the splash park, shooting each other with water, repeatedly taking on the slides, and waiting, waiting, waiting for the big water dump. I delighted in watching them while trying to get some review reading done. And of course we topped off the evening with a special and delicious dinner with our families to celebrate our own dads as well.

Happy Father's Day

To the dads of goofballs everwhere.

Grillin' for Food Gatherers

It's an amazing charity program here in our area. Food Gatherers collects all manner of unwanted, unsold, and uneaten food from stores, bakeries, restaurants, etc., sorts it for edibility (my spell checker is going to yell at me for that one), and redistributes it to people in need. You know that mound of carrots at the grocery store that you've always wondered "how can they possibly sell all those?" or maybe, like me, you've often lamented "why do they stock so much of XXXX? There's no way they sell it all. What a waste!" Well, this program does the amazing thing of connecting people in need, with food in need of homes.

My dad volunteers there. He's done this since he retired and needed something else to do with his time (other than all the other fun things in the world, that is). He has ridden in the trucks to pick up or deliver pallets of food, and he's stood in the warehouse sorting. He's met many interesting people, and helped many more that he has never met.

Once a year Food Gatherers hosts a grilling pow-wow at the fairgrounds in Saline. Many delicious local restaurants and catering services donate their food, many more people donate their time or other expertise, and others of us go to enjoy all those donations and all that hard work. Food Gatherers makes their money in the fundraiser on tickets sold to event and on raffles and auctions that takes place within. My dad has worked the beer pouring station for a couple of years now. It's a good place for him, and we take him "out for dinner" on his break.

Our community is pretty supportive of the group, and even this year's stormy weather couldn't bring it down.

Partying

Have I have told the story here of our "camping friends"? I call them camping friends for the purpose of simplification, because we've gone camping with them at least every year for the past five, but that's not the only basis for our friendship. Sarah and I were friends growing up. We've been friends, in fact, since we were in first grade (Sarah likes to tell it that it would have been earlier, but she got stuck in afternoon kindergarten while I had morning). We lost touch somewhere midway through high school and did not reconnect until the miracle of facebook, when we found that our children were born just two days apart. Two days.

So we get together several times a year, including to go camping, and to celebrate the kids' birthdays together. It's a tradition now.

And, because one party per weekend isn't enough for a ninth birthday, we also had a party with the grandparents this weekend. You could say it was a grand party. Because you only turn nine once.