Monday, August 11, 2014

Family Reunion

Somewhere between Pepperidge Farm and Country Time, between Norman Rockwell and Mark Twain, lies a place called Mt. Pleasant Kentucky.  It is a place that, if it were quite a bit bigger would be a very small town.  The nearest actual town is Slaughters, KY, which is just a few miles away and qualifies to be in the very small town category.
This past weekend I attended a very prestigious and exclusive event held every year in Mt. Pleasant called the Rakestraw Reunion.  It was not always called that.  Years ago, (in the dim ages), it was simply referred to as Pap’s Birthday.  Pap was the nickname given to my Grandpa, Thurman Rakestraw.  My Grandma Otha was simply referred to as Ma’am.  She died in 1944 when my father, the youngest of 9, was only 15.  Thurman died in 1971 at the age of 90.

I am always writing about the importance of family, because I have come to realize how critical the family structure is to society and that the breakdown of that family structure is responsible for much of what is wrong with our culture.  I realize that not all parents are good parents and not all families are The Waltons.  Not all kids are Wally Cleaver and not all towns are Mayberry.  I don’t have blinders on and I am not naïve.

On the other hand, families are still the backbone of our society.  Intact families are, statistically speaking, one of the keys to financial success.  Loving parents are one of the key ingredients in becoming a productive and well-adjusted adult.  The lessons and experiences we learn in our youth in the comfort and security of our family environment play a huge part in forming our view of the world.

The nine children of Thurman and Otha all did a good job of making more babies and the Rakestraw clan has grown quite large, at least on paper.  Sadly that number has been reduced as time passed and my aunts and uncles, like Dad, have moved on to heaven.  My Aunt Blanche is the only one remaining, and she is in her 90’s.

Thurman and Otha had several hundred acres of farmland which got divided among the kids.  Dad ended up with 80 acres worth, the site of the old homestead where they all grew up.  My brother Joe now owns that and we spent the weekend on that hill with his family and my sister’s family and my Mom.  My older brother could not make it down and neither could my wife and kids but we just saw my brother on July 4th at his house in Peoria.
The kids swam in the lake and we had music and Frisbee and fishing.  I camped in my tent, which is my custom and the others were distributed between Joe’s camper and Dad’s old mobile home that he and Mom bought so they could have a place to stay when they came to visit.  The place has seen better days but it still works for us and there are so many memories of our previous visits that none of us are anxious to part with it.
Food, of course, is the key to all family gatherings.  As usual we had plenty, not only at the formal reunion on Sunday but throughout the weekend and it was all really good.  Joe and James caught some fish which we enjoyed Saturday nightalong with fried potatoes and watermelon and well, you get the picture.
Evenings are for building a nice fire and telling stories and talking and laughing well into the evening.  This has always been my favorite time and this year we were treated to a rather amazing super-moon.  The stars are the same ones I see from my home in Lake St. Louis but without the city lights to compete with they are much easier to see.  I will admit to having a beer or two and staring at the stars and moon while we all discuss old times and solve all of the problems of the world.

My cousins drop by and join in the stories.  Because Dad was the youngest, almost all of my cousins are older than I am.  My sister Sharon is the youngest of all, the last grandchild of Pap and Ma’am.  The oldest of my cousins was older than my father.  It took me a while to realize that however large or small the family, a particular group of cousins is a finite group.  Now that my brothers and sister and I are out of the baby business my kids are part of a finite group of cousins as well.
When you step back and take a look at your extended family you get a real sense of who you are and where you came from.  Living with your parents far away from extended family it is hard to figure out why your Mom or Dad acts so “weird”.  But seeing them next to their parents and siblings gives you a new perspective on why they are who they are.  Likewise taking a look at all of your cousins gives you some perspective on who you are.

Genetics play a big role in who you are and you can learn a tremendous amount about your genetics by hanging around with your extended family.  Birth order is also an important factor and family reunions give you a great opportunity to see the effect of being the oldest or the baby or the forgotten middle child.  And each family has traditions and history and heritage that make it unique.  Parents cannot help passing some of those things along to their children whether consciously or not.
At the top of the hill on the farm is an outcropping of stone that we have always referred to as “The Big Rock”.  We played there as kids and always try to go up and pay a visit to it when we go to Kentucky.  It is well hidden unless you know where it is.  I think the allure for me is that this place is the same spot that Dad knew as a kid, and his Dad before him.  It is untouched except for the various messages scrawled in various places over the years; from expressions of love to a simple “James was here”.

Something about the timelessness of The Big Rock and the stars and the lake and sitting around a fire at night touches me deeply.  It puts into perspective all of the madness of my “regular” life and makes me realize that when all of those things run their course there will still be a planet Earth and it will still be spinning.
On the other hand, the reunion is a reminder that life moves on, and change is inevitable.  The formal part of the reunion was on Sunday at the Methodist church at the top of the hill, which is across the road from the Mt. Pleasant cemetery.  Dad is there, with Thurman and Otha and most of his siblings and a disturbing number of my cousins.  I went and paid my respects.  We can’t go back, but we still remember the love and affection of those that went before us.

For the children it is not about remembering yet.  They never knew most of the folks in the cemetery.  They listen to our stories and ask questions and we recite the oral histories and try to fill in the gaps.  Soon they lose interest and ask if they can go play.  Cousins run off, giggling.  Then they are back, wanting to know if they can take the 4-wheeler to the lake.  There are bugs to catch and makeup to put on and games to play and hugs and laughter and tears.  These are the stories they will tell in the years to come, although they don’t realize that now.  They are building a sense of identity and connectedness.  They are building the memories and relationships that will draw them back when they are older with lives of their own.
My cousin “Curly” keeps the genealogy for the Rakestraws.  From time to time we review the family tree and history and although we are a little light on Presidents and Senators there is no shortage of interesting tidbits and tall tales.  It is not all flowers and sunshine, either.  Like most families it is a blend of good and bad, happy and sad.  It is also educational, as you can see what success and failure look like on a generational scale.  It turns out, it is not all about money.

Success is staying married and keeping nine kids alive with nothing more than a patch of ground on which to grow food.  It is walking up the hill every day to check on things and attending the little Methodist Church on Sundays.  It is having both laughter and tears and it is not always pretty.  It’s watching your kids go off to fight in a World War half a world away and having them return home.
Each of us has a spot on our family tree.  You can choose to ignore it but you cannot opt out.  You will write your own story.  Luck will play a role, but so will genetics and heritage.  Nobody else gets to live your life or write your story.  Sometimes it takes a while for parents and children to realize this simple idea.  You can provide your kids with a good beginning but then the story is theirs to write, and all you can do is watch and encourage them.

If your family has a reunion you should consider taking the time to attend.  Tell some stories.  Get some hugs.  Bring some good food.  But most importantly, bring your kids.

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