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For as long as I can remember, we spent the Saturday before Father’s Day with our extended family nearby at my cousin’s home outside Philadelphia, swimming, dancing to live music, and immersing ourselves in the company of our cousins. Some traveled from as far as California, and we’d mingle with our relatives from 2 p.m. until dusk. It was magical — and yet so ordinary in my youthful mind.
As a child, I knew I was part of a vibrant gathering — an occasion akin to a wedding or Bat Mitzvah — but it wasn’t until I became a mother that I understood the impact these gatherings had on my life.
It’s always been an unforgettable day
My great-great-grandmother, Sadie, had 10 children, including my great-grandmother, and each went on to have their own family. When our reunions began in the mid 80s, these 10 siblings were the matriarchs and patriarchs of our family. They’d gather on the patio, sharing stories and kissing every child until lipstick on the cheek became the family trend. And while the little girl in me understood this to be a vivacious family celebration, I couldn’t yet comprehend how these celebratory summer days would truly shape me.
During my elementary years, these gatherings felt universal; they were woven into my childhood, written into our calendar like a holiday. With cousins around my age, we swam until our fingertips wrinkled. We devoured hot dogs and soft pretzels to hold us over until dinner before visiting the frogs in the pond and hitting a ball or two on the tennis court. My brother and I were three years apart, but there, I bonded with cousins born within months of me.
We have a talent show, a magic show, and eat delicious food
As we buoyantly meandered the grounds, the adults emitted a sense of appreciation through infectious smiles, so radiant even the children noticed. In the early 90s, the Philadelphia Mummers — a group in costume that sing and dance during the Philadelphia New Year’s parade — marched into our family reunion as if we were standing on South Broad Street on January 1st. A talent show allowed the children to display our various instrumental skills, singing voices, and even juggling proficiency. And each year we demonstrated our progress.
A professional magic show usually separated the afternoon from the evening, but as a child, it all morphed into another celebration in the collection of many, leaving a permanent feeling of belonging, one I couldn’t comprehend at the time.
As daylight dwindled, we sat at tables beneath the melting sun, eating crabcakes, grilled shrimp, corn salad, sauteed vegetables, and filet. We devoured ice cream cookie sandwiches for dessert as lightning bugs lit up the sky while sharing family stories and remembering those we missed. Family shirts were printed numerous times; they still linger in the bottom of my drawers, a reminder that I am part of a village.
While we grew physically and intellectually, these grounds remained unchanged, and each time we returned, so did a sense of wonder that children often lose as they approach their teen years.
As my life changed, this tradition was a comfort for me
When I was in college, my life shimmied to a small town three hours away, and summers at home were a welcomed comfort. Our family reunion became a connection to my childhood, a reminder that while much of life changes, few precious things remain the same. As my responsibilities increased and adulthood grew closer, transitions became overwhelming.
But there was always that one day in June where I’d reconnect with a piece of my youth, swimming in the pool, visiting the frogs, and mingling on the grounds that held a chapter of my childhood. Being in a familiar location with family once again, as memories from years passed flooded my brain, became my comfort amid so much adjustment.
Bringing my sons has shown me the impact the reunion has had on my life
Now, my two boys, 14 and 11, are growing up with the same tradition, and I see myself in them as they swim with their cousins, jumping from the very diving board I stood on not long ago. I watch them laughing as they sit on the same hill I perched on as the magician pulls the ace of spades from the card deck. And for a moment, it’s as if time has stood still. I return to the little girl who wandered those grounds year upon year, unknowingly building a sense of belonging. Only now, I’ve become one of the adults with an infectious smile.
This June is our 40th reunion, and I can’t imagine a life without these gatherings. When my children go off to college, I hope this day remains their constant, providing balance in their ever-changing world. One day, they’ll realize these gatherings are anything but ordinary — they are the days that stand out among the rest.
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