A Family Reunion

When I was a kid, from kindergarten to high school, I remember looking forward to the family reunion at the farm every Memorial Day weekend.  Then one year it didn't happen.  It was almost as if someone turned a switch and it was off, never to be turned back on.  I'm not sure that's the way it happened, but that's the way I remember it.  A couple of times, the family tried to have a gathering over the years, and a few times it was pretty good, but nothing like the old reunions.  I remember time where there was a table that was a hundred yards long, covered in food from end to end.  As a 10 year old, that table seemed that long.  It would be covered in field peas, 5 or 6 different bowls, and all cooked differently.  Some would be just field peas, some would have fatback in the pot, others would have bacon and even others would have snap beans in the mix.  ALL were to die for.  Just like the peas, every other dish on that table had multiple offerings. There were sweet potatoes, green beans, corn on and off the cobb, ham, fried chicken, white potatoes, casseroles for every vegetable ever grown in the south, 172 variations of mac and cheese and just about any other food concoction from the south that would cause you to overeat, and then want to sit around the rest of the afternoon in the shade of a huge pecan tree.  Speaking of that pecan tree, that is pe with the long e sound and can with the short a sound.  pee-can, not pecahn.  Yes, pecan pie.  Oh yeah, nanner puddin', chocolate pie, lemon crème pies, cakes of every shape, size and flavor.  There were brownies, cookies, and multiple other dessert pastries to be found.  None of which were bought from Food Lion, or the A&P from those days, every morsel on that table was from somebody's kitchen.  You're thinking, as you read this, that I am exaggerating, but that table was 40 feet long by 4 feet wide.  I remember my Grandpa making a set of stands to make that table.  It was 5 or 6 sheets of plywood long.  That was just for the food being provided.  If you wanted to eat, there were other tables, or you just held the plate in your lap.  I remember at the height of the reunions, there were commonly 125 to 150 people at the reunions.  I remember all my Aunts and Uncles, my Grandparents, my cousins, and tons of people that I had no clue who they were.  This was on the farm, where there fields, yards and ditches to run in.  In the back part of the back yard, there was badminton and horseshoes to play.  In the backyard near the house were chairs, chairs, and more chairs for the "old" people to sit and tell stories.  I was able to play with my cousins all day, and didn't have to worry about my Mom and Dad trying to keep up with me, or yelling at me about running barefoot in the fields or ditches.  Of the memories my cousins and I made.  I never thought I would relish those times like I would come to as I type this tonight. 
About 3 years ago, one of my cousins, the one that I spent many days in those very ditches running with; got together and started talking about trying to get these memories back.  We decided on having an old fashioned pig pickin' on the farm, but for what occasion?  My aunt suggested doing a get together for all the cousins and doing the pig pickin' then.  Last year we did one, trying to revive that nostalgia, and boy, lemme tell ya, did it work.  There were people that I didn't know again, at the farm.  My cousins were there, although we were not running the ditches this time.  Aunts and Uncles were there, but this time they were the "old people" sitting around in chairs telling stories.  It was such a success that we wanted to make this an every year occurrence like it used to be.  Today, that happened.  The hundred yard smorgasbord wasn't there, but there was food for yards.  There was pig on the grill.  There were chairs everywhere.  There were kids running everywhere, in the ditches too.  This time, those kids were mine.  My kids, my cousin's kids; cousins playing where I played with my cousins.  Admittedly though, I was feeling a bit nostalgic.  When I was a kid, I was not allowed to sit with the "old people" but today, myself and my cousins were sitting with the "old people" although we are not the "old people." 
The "old people" were telling war stories of their days on the farm growing up, and of course we listened.  Amazingly, my Aunt's and Uncle's shenanigans were no better or worse than ours, just different.  My cousins and I talked about the shenanigans we did on the farm when we were growing up.  The "old people" spoke of slamming the door in the kitchen when Grandma was baking a cake, so they could eat the cake that fell when the door slammed.  We talked about shooting each other with BB guns, and having to dig a well while the Aunts and Uncles watched us dig.  We talked about wrecking go karts, and jumping through the ditches.  It is a good thing that the "young people" were busy running through the ditches while we were telling war stories.  We sure don't need our kids learning bad habits from us.  Did I mention that some of them were barefoot in those very ditches that we were not supposed to be running in.  We did it, and were told not to, and our kids are now doing it.  Makes me wonder if the "old people" did it with Grandma and Grandad telling them not to.
Today was a great day, we didn't have the 150 people, but I'd estimate well over 50.  Not bad for only the second year.  I know it was  good day, when my kiddo was feeling the sadness of having to wait for another year to do it again.  I remember those days, and I hope that my kids get to feel the same nostalgia in 30 years.