On family reunions

A brief review of a short but complicated weekend with the folks at their retirement home in the Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee. First to introduce the players:

Carl Golly, the patriarch, was turning 85, and it was his birthday we were all there to celebrate. His wife of 62 years, Ellen Shuck By Golly, was our hostess for the weekend, ably assisted by their youngest daughter Jo-Jo Golly Badly up for the week from Atlanta. Jo-Jo's son Bubba Badly didn't go. Big sister Anna Banana Golly Gosh was there with her husband Fred Gosh from Detroit, but their sons Boomer and Bingo Gosh were in California for Bingo's birthday. Middle sister Jeanie Beanie Golly Gee was there with her husband Barney Gee from Tampa. Their daughter Oyvay Gee and son Awe Gee came too. Their other son Slam Golly Gee and his wife Scalene Gee brought their three little girls Maddy, Siddy, and Laney Gee, from Iowa. Younger brother Rock Golly came over from Nashville with his wife Cindy Lou Who Golly and their two kids Lee and Eliza Who Golly. You already know me, older brother Sven Golly and wife Gven What Golly, from Ohio.

Got all that? It was a party. Not exactly a raucus, let the wild rumpus begin party, but there was abundant food and drink and laughter and good feeling. We spilled out onto the deck overlooking the first fairway, and several overlapping conversations continued out there for most of the first evening. That gave me a chance to talk one-to-one with my brother-in-law Fred Gosh, who is thinking about retiring but not yet ready to make that move. We compared notes about our bosses' leaving, not knowing what to expect in the transition, and our relief that the new boss hasn't shaken things up too much.

I had a good time talking with the Gee men - Barney, Slam, and Awe - about exercise, sports, injuries, rehab, training, athletes, coaches, recruiting, you know, jock talk. Augie is the head athletic trainer at a small college west of Chicago and knows something about sport law. Slam plays basketball three times a week in his home town in Iowa. Barney had bypass surgery a couple of years ago and walks alot. It's nice to have things to talk about with the nephews and in-laws.

Later that night, Gven and Jo-Jo and I sat on the deck and talked about politics and language, so naturally George Lakoff's book came up. They're not liberals anymore, they're progressives now, you know. Language is a fluid medium, and how you use it to make a case for policy and social change has many potentials and pitfalls. Lakoff's book on Metaphors, for example, has dynamite chapter called "The Myth of Objectivism" that talks about the way people reify a certain set of terms as if they explained the real world with certainty and finality. It's always fun to swap ideas with Jo-Jo.

The next day after breakfast, Jo-Jo put a microphone in front of Carl and got him talking about growing up on the farm in Minnesota. He got into describing how they harvested grain with neighbors and kept accounts of who owed what to whom, how they got the hay in, and how they used the county agent to upgrade their dairy herd. Good stories well told and now documented on a primary source.

It started raining just as we were heading out to the park to set up the picnic lunch, and it rained hard for an hour or so, delaying the start of the cook-out. Everybody hung loose and when it slowed to a sprinkle, we hauled our coolers and baskets of food to the shelter and fired up the grill. Beers were opened, chips and black bean/corn dip were consumed, and kids ventured down to the lake to play with ducks and geese and water at the dock.

Slam and Rock took care of the grill, and soon there were burgers and hot dogs for everyone. Jo-Jo and Ellen made potato salad, an old family favorite. Jeanie Beanie brought a fruit salad, Anna Banana made baked beans, and Gven brought home-grown tomatoes with feta. We sang with gusto and Carl blew out the candles, then everybody got a piece of the famous Amy Simms chocolate cake from Ohio.

There was time to hang out. I talked to Rock about his MBA program at Vanderbilt, a highly structured general business degree he is taking on top of his two bachelors' in mechanical and electrical engineering. He's a tireless worker and a smart guy who seems to really like what he is doing, traveling all over the world making deals with steel companies to upgrade their blast furnaces. But he seemed just as excited about buying their new car on eBay, negotiating everything online, then flying to Florida with free miles to pick it up.

It was that kind of day in the park. Eliza had her nose in a book when she wasn't frolicking by the lake with Mad, Sid, and Laney. Later she could be seen sitting and knitting, engrossed in conversation with Gven about fibers and making things to wear. Her brother Lee had recently returned from high school band camp with a shaved head, so his blond hair was just beginning to grow back. He backed the family SUV toward the picnic shelter and played some of his favorite rock and roll mix, but his ever-vigilant parents made him keep the volume low.

A big card game dominated that evening, something called Phase Ten that seems to bring out the best and worst in card players. The usual suspects gathered eagerly around the big dining room table, and the voluminous rules were explained to the uninitiated and the reluctant, then explained again. Both uninitiated AND reluctant, I won the first hand by pure beginner's luck, and it was all downhill from there. A few others like me lost interest and found someone to sit in for them. The lowlight was when big sister Anna Banana had a conniption and poured Vernor's ginger ale down my shirt front because I used my "skip" card to make her skip a turn. Let the record show that most of Cumberland County heard her call me "the meanest little brother!" I say all's fair in cards.

The noncompetitors were either watching Clint Eastwood steal a spy plane from the USSR, knitting, or reading a Golly family geneology compiled by Carl's sister Marl. I hit the hay early and probably missed a great deal of lively and sporting interaction around the big table.

Brunch Sunday morning at the country club was restrained but very nice. If you're ever there, skip the home fries and scrambled eggs (dry, cold), try the biscuits, and order the omelet, which was excellent. Before departure, we had lots of pictures to take among the hickories and oaks in the shady back yard of Carl and Ellen's hermitage (think Charleton Heston and Maureen O'Hara as Andrew and Rachel Jackson). Family unit by family unit, we hit the road for the trip home. Now I'm cathartically reviewing the whole thing as I recover body and soul from a pretty good trip, and I guess I don't have any global observations to make about family reunions in general.