Put aside the spats. A family reunion can bring joy, laughter and great stories | Opinion

We went on a partial family trip last weekend to Key West. I call it a “partial” family trip because there were only six of us, including my great-granddaughter Loretta, now 4.

Even so, being with family, talking about old times and being amazed at how fast my littlest great-granddaughter has grown and how smart she is, made it one of the best weekends ever.

I admit — I am one of the “crazy” grandmas. We are the ones who remember everything in detail, about our children’s and grandchildren’s growing-up years. I am sure that the rest of the group just tolerated me when I thought of a “great” story to tell about Afra’s growing-up years as well as her father’s (Shawn).

Our holiday started when my granddaughter Afra, her husband Bradford and their daughter Loretta arrived from New York. The excitement heightened as we waited for Shawn and Maggie to arrive from Rhode Island the next day.

The Southern mom in me knew that I had to have a food favorite ready for Shawn and Bradford — fried chicken. So, I grabbed the fattest chicken from the freezer, thawed it and prepared it for deep frying. It was a hit, I’m told. Not so much because of the taste, but because it was cooked by Grandma Bea.

We got on the road to the Keys by late morning the next day, stopping only for gas and to pick up a few items from a convenience store.

The weather was beautiful — puffy clouds dotted the blue sky and a gentle breeze floated in off the water.

I sat back on the drive down, meditating on the goodness of God and His blessing of letting us be together once again. Normally, this side of my family only gets to see each other once a year when I fly to New York at Christmastime. Last Christmas, however, Shawn got COVID, so not being able to see him put a damper on the holiday.

This time, everyone was well. On the way down, the guys kept us abreast of the weather. A tropical storm was brewing out on the ocean but it didn’t do a thing to dampen our spirit. We were family and we were together.

It’s a funny thing about families. Some families have a history of fighting, of not getting along. Some family reunions have been known for the disagreements, the bringing up of old ills, the struggles of just being together.

Yet, some families look beyond the disagreements and other human frailties and decide to just get along and to catch up, to proudly brag on the children’s successes. These family members realize that we are all human and we will all disagree at some point.

The trick is to not dwell on the disagreements and focus on the love and the fun of just being together.

That was my family last weekend. We are not perfect. But we simply decided to leave whatever might have been any disagreements behind, and become centered on one thing - loving and enjoying each other’s company. And, for me, getting to know my little Loretta much better.

I had fun telling stories of Shawn as he was growing up. His daughter Afra loved to hear them. Of course, the stories embarrassed her dad to the utmost.

Like the story of the painted shoes:

Shawn was always one who waited until the last minute to let me know he needed something for school. On this particular day, his band at Carol City Senior High was having its annual concert. Shawn called me about 5 p.m. to let me know he needed white shoes for the concert to wear with his formal band uniform.

I am at work. Downtown. Shawn is in Carol City (now Miami Gardens), and it is two hours before concert time.

“There is no way I can get off in time to shop for white shoes for you,” I told him. “I’m doing all I can to make it in time for your concert. Besides, I’ll be driving in rush-hour traffic.”

Shawn didn’t answer. But I could hear him thinking. He had a bassoon solo during the concert. There was no way he was going to miss that.

I finished my assignment at The Herald and made it to the school just in time for the concert and Shawn’s solo. He was wonderful and I was so proud of him.

Then, I looked down at his shoes. There was trash sticking out from around the soles of both his shoes. As the audience was applauding Shawn on his performance, I was breaking up with laughter.

The parents around me were puzzled. They wondered why I was so tickled. I pointed to Shawn’s newly painted white shoes, and they started laughing, too.

My genius son had found a way to have new white shoes via the leftover white paint in the utility room of our home. The only problem was, there wasn’t enough time for the paint to dry before Shawn left for the concert.

So, on the two-block trek to the school, he managed to pick up a nice collection of debris as decoration for his freshly painted white shoes.

“My friends never let me live down that one,” Shawn said, as we all laughed.

And so, it went. There were more stories to tell and more laughter to share. I watched each face proudly, thinking of the stories that we were making on this trip. Years from now, when I am no longer around, my family will gather again, somewhere, and someone will remember this trip and the fun we had.

Maybe someone will tell a story or two about me. I hope they will. And when they do, I want them to remember this trip and the great time we had together.

And I hope they will laugh.

This story was originally published August 8, 2024 at 3:03 PM.