I’m somehow related to every person on this beach. This is only maybe a third of the people I spent this past Sunday with, nearly all related to me through blood or marriage. On top of that- a number of relatives weren’t able to be there. 
In other words- my family is huge.
Granted, there should probably be an asterisk next to some of these folks. My cousin’s step-daughter’s friend would not qualify as family under most definitions. The cousins of my cousins? Debatable.
But almost every year for over 30 years my aunt and uncle have hosted us at their home on the southern Connecticut shore for a Memorial Day gathering. My aunt is my mom’s sister, and they have 4 other siblings. My uncle’s brother married one of those other siblings, so there’s some serious doubling up of relatives going on here. Also second cousins, neighbors, even parish priests stop by.
A big part of the day has been competition. My cousin Peg would invent races for the younger ones, and the “grown-ups” would have an egg toss. It was almost genteel, especially the year Grandma and Grandpa L. were secretly given a hard-boiled egg and Grandma L. never caught on, even as the shell began peeling away!
As the kids became grown-ups, and a new generation joined us, the competitions continued. The egg toss became a water-balloon toss. We quickly outgrew the yard and the finalists continued in the road. Soon the number of competitors outgrew even that, and the water-balloon toss was moved up to the beach along the Long Island Sound, just a short walk away.
So for the past few years we’ve arrived en masse and taken over a section of beach, away from the lifeguards, near the jetty. Cars slow down to watch as they go by. Folks walking their dogs ask who we are, what we’re doing. When we tell them I detect a slight note of jealousy.
And they should be at least a little jealous. We’ve got something special here. Most of us see each other only this one time a year, but the traditions are entrenched. The fourth generation continues to grow, and some of them are adults themselves. We share dreams, we share hopes, we share joys, we share hardships, we share loss. And we share the last Sunday of May.
3 Comments
I’m a little jealous, too! Sounds like a great time. Then again, I can’t imagine what they would be like if Steve’s grandmother’s generation had started one–she was one of 14 children, I believe (talk about doubling up–after her mother died, her father married the late mother’s sister, with whom he had most of the siblings).
That is so cool! Of course growing up in the midwest, just hearing about a get-together on a beach sounds magical in itself! But to have that many families, even just once a year, converge to celebrate that last Sunday in May is a great tradition, one that sounds as if it will live on!
Sounds like a great time!! My husband’s family has a Family Picnic on the Saturday after the 4th of July each year filled with family, food, fun, and tradition. They are a very close group and it’s great to see the younger generation getting in on the act as well.
My extended family gets together on Christmas Eve but over the years, the numbers have dwindled as we’ve all gotten married and many have moved away.
It’s nice that you have a place big enough to accommodate everyone and that with it being a holiday weekend, many have an extra day for travel, etc.