Today is the second Sunday in August. For as long as I can remember that has meant one thing: the family reunion is today.
In the old days we’d gather at someone’s home, and later at a nearby park, where picnic tables would be covered with fried chicken, chocolate pie and every imaginable type of Southern country goodness. Though it was a technically a reunion of my maternal grandmother’s family, family was defined broadly and it was a large happy tribe. Almost everyone lived in the community. It was like a big post-church picnic.
These days a lot of the fried chicken is in KFC buckets, and most of the people come in from other places. But there will still be plenty of great home-cooking and a lot of story-swapping.
Family reunion day is probably my mother’s favorite day of the year. She spends all week cooking and preparing for it. Last night she hosted a pre-reunion cookout at her house.
While Cherie and I are happy to spend our Sundays quietly on the farm, my mother is never happier than when surrounded by her large extended family.
Although I’d be perfectly happy to spend my Sunday at home, it’s the second Sunday in August. It’s family reunion day.