Family reunions
are funny things.
They are usually
dreaded events that actually turn out ok.
Dreaded
cause there is time to over think them, remembering painful long weekend with
the parents ignoring us while we ran wild.
I have a vivid memory of when all the adults in my family smoked, except
my dad, and them sitting in the kitchen in Silverstream wreathed in blue haze
getting blotto (that’s a polite and old fashioned way of saying shitfaced).
This time
last year I had a brain wave and I should know to ignore those. Somehow I followed this up with saying to my
dad and Dors that we should have a dad’s side reunion.
This idea
was floating along quite nicely without any great need for action, nor a date
and a vague idea of a location. Until cousin Jen and her son Zane were killed
in a car accident last Mother’s Day.
Then it was
the cousins who wanted a reunion and the old generation who were like "organise
it and we will be there". And then some stipulations like accommodation standards and types of food.
Then it
needed to fitted in between other family events – these would be celebrations I
wouldn’t be invited to mind, and never mind either cause now I’m in two minds
about this family reunion with a date and a location and me organising it.
Let’s
clarify the cousin relationship here.
There are
four siblings and the first Aunty Prue had two really big kids. Then the other Russell’s had three girls, the
Pecks had two boys and a girl and then my dad, the late starter had me, a boy
and a girl.
As with
families of cousins there are bands of ages.
I’m the tail end of the eldest cousins, then my bro is in the middle and
naughty groups and the my widdle sister Pippapotamus is a baby of the
babies.
I was a
little too young for my older cousins but so not hanging out with my naughty,
somewhat dangerous middle cousins. Maybe it was just me being awkward in between and let’s face it when you only
see your cousins every couple of years, it’s hard to be friends like your parents
expect you to.
So early next
February I’ll be dreading the family reunion and then on the last weekend you’ll
see me enjoying myself in Rotorua (yuk) with
my family doing white people* things, talking about lost photos and experiences
and getting some context to so many things that start to make sense with
adulthood.
*This in
contrast to the upcoming Muti family reunion which will be full of typical Tongan
family things…eating and eating and eating, screaming with laughter at the expense of some poor fool and more eating.
