Land O Reunions

A few weeks ago, my husband and I went to the Parker family reunion in Pensacola. This was the second in a series of three reunions planned for this summer, the first being the Fleming get-together last month, and the last being the Adams family (!) reunion in July. My husband has never been to so many family reunions. I've brainwashed him into thinking they are just a part of Southern Living. Maybe so.

The Parker fandango, and I use the word loosely, was held at a community center with paneled walls and fluorescent lighting. It was a catered to-do, with so-so barbecue brought in by a local joint. You always have the same beefy, capable women getting the food tables ready at these things. They are so organized, efficient and focused that you feel stupid even asking if you can lend a hand. These gals had the spread out in about 20 minutes flat, and that included the sweet tea table. We had chicken and pork, vinegary sauce served from a plastic take-out cup, beans, coleslaw, and a cold, hard roll. The meal wasn't worth $10, but we paid for anyway (or, my father did). In terms of food, the Fleming gathering beat this one hands-down. Having a catered meal is much more convenient, but there's a lot to be said for home cooking, especially when it's Southern and includes such things as butter beans and peas, cornbread, chicken and dumplings and fried okra. Sadly, the dessert offerings at the Fleming reunion were poorly represented this year by a few store-bought cakes and one homemade blackberry cobbler.

At the Parker reunion, families sat together. My grandfather's family -- there were about 30 of us -- occupied three tables, and had the largest turn out. I didn't know anyone else at the reunion, but my grandfather still has quite a few first cousins living and they were there with their families. My grandfather had nine aunts and uncles, three still living. Two of these aunts are in nursing homes in Alabama, but the oldest attended the reunion. Aunt Alice is a spry-looking 85-year-old with hair like a curly cotton boll and flashing blue eyes. It's good to know there's a chance I'll get to be a good-looking old Southern woman.

In other news this summer, my grandmother and I have started on a buffet tour. We have gone to Ryan's in Crestview several times and it remains her favorite; with its humongous selection, she's always sure to find something she'll eat, including several dessert items. Recently, we've checked out two smaller smorgasbords in a neighboring town. The first, at a family-owned steakhouse, was pretty good, I thought, but grandmother wasn't impressed. I think she was disappointed that the soft serve ice cream machine was out of order. This same restaurant my husband and I sometimes visit on Friday nights so he can pig out on Cajun-inspired boiled crab legs. I usually bring a book to keep me busy. The other place we went to this past week had an even smaller buffet. The entrees included meatballs in gravy and chicken tenders. My grandmother did like the "vegetable fingers" which seemed to be mixed vegetables with the consistency of baby food with a crispy, fried shell. The desserts were beyond disappointment: small squares of German chocolate sheet cake and some kind of blueberry cream cheese concoction.

It occurs to me that I'm getting hungry. Time for lunch.

My husband and I continue to enjoy our lake bathing. A friend asked, "Is that the same lake where you saw the alligator?" Well, yes, but we haven't seen him for a while. When the thermometer hits 90 degrees with matching humidity, swimming with possible gators doesn't seem so awful. Ed discovered two PFDs on the pontoon and we quickly learned how to hug them and just float. Bobbing can be a wonderful summer past time as the hot, sticky afternoon just slips away. I've mastered the technique of putting my life vest between my legs in a scissor-hold and catching my balance so I can bob upright, arms along the surface. We bob and chat and look at our new house taking shape on the shore. It's all quite idyllic. Ed thinks he will haul out the pontoon this winter and get her fixed up. We've christened her Sylacauga AL based on her humble origins proclaimed by a dealer's sticker. I'm thinking we can turn her into a floating pleasure barge with a gas grill and banquette seating. And some of those Chinese paper lanterns.

How fortunate I was to be born to parents who were and are both readers. Now, my father's tastes run to factual battle accounts of the Civil War and thick Robert Ludlum and Tom Clancy novels. My mother is a voracious reader; she regularly sends me books she's read, sometimes 10-12 at a time. She likes to read all kinds of things, and I am amazed at the scope of her pleasure reading -- everything from romances to westerns to biographies and literary novels. I have my mother to thank for encouraging me to read by example and for taking me to the library every two weeks when I was a kid to get a pile of new books. Growing up, going to the library was a family outing everyone in our family looked forward to. During the summer, many kids fall behind because they aren't encouraged and don't read at home. What a lucky kid I was. Now, I can lie on the couch with a book and count my blessings.

Other than bobbing in the lake, there's no better way to spend a hot, muggy Florida afternoon.