By John Gilstrap
I have just hours ago returned from my extended family’s nearly annual weeklong trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. My father-in-law, Randy, realized a long time ago that as children become adults, and their attitudes and priorities change, often the only thing that keeps them from evolving away completely is the pressure of a family tradition. Thus, he rented a huge house right on the beach and invited his four kids and their families to a glorious week of sun, fun and a little bit of family angst. When the tradition first started, the youngest cousin wasn’t yet born. This year, she’ll turn eighteen. I guess that means we’ve been doing it for twenty years. God bless Randy and his largesse.
As we all know, families are dynamic things, wrought with disagreements and squabbles that seem so important at the time, but in the end mean nothing. For one reason or another, it’s possible for siblings to go weeks or months without meaningful communication–not because they’re bent out of shape at one another, but simply because ife gets in the way. Once a year, though, there’s a certain forced familiarity at the beach that smooths the rough spots and forces communication. Throw a little alcohol into the mix, along with a game or four of Pictionary, and lo and behold, it turns out that the family really does love each other.
As an in-law, I learned early that marrying the youngest daughter grants only a kind of grudging probation that is continually evaluated. Siring the only male child among the grandchildren gave me a little more stability, but ultimately, it turns out that loving said baby daughter for going on thirty years now has granted me permanent status in the family. As both of my own parents moved on from this ife to the next, those inlaws turned out to be a pretty damned supportive group.
My sojourns to Nag’s Head began when I was in my early thirties, and keeping up with sugar-high little kids was barely a challenge. Back then, I could run up Jockey’s Ridge to keep up. Now, I wager that even a brisk walk might require a stop or two along the way. Back then, the go-carts and putt-putt golf were thrilling because I could see the thril through my son’s eyes. They were special times.
This year, Chris couldn’t even join the vacation until late in the week because of job responsibilities. I missed him when he wasn’t there. A lot. I missed the conversations in the car going to and from. I miss the way things used to be.
Now, as Randy’s health deteriorates at a disturbing rate, I find myself facing some unpleasant realities, and asking questions that seemed unaskable back in the day: Is this tradition about to end? Is it maybe time for the tradition to end, so that we can all live with the polished perfection that defines pleasant memories?
I don’t have any answers, but I know that on at least a few occasions, various members of the family came on these trips merely because Randy called, and when Randy calls, people listen. It turns out that this father knew best. When the day comes that Randy follows my own parents into whatever lays beyond, those of us who are left behind will have some big shoes to fill.
Here’s my fantasy: Five, ten, fifteen years from now, when Chris is married and has kids of his own, I want to rent a house on the beach, knowing full well that when I call, the family will be there. I’ll buy the ice cream and the taffy, and in the cool of the evening, as the breeze tastes like salt, Joy and I will be the old folks on the ground watching their kid run up Jockey’s Ridge again.
Fabulous post, John. My parents had six children, of whom I am the oldest, with two brothers and a sister surviving. We’re spread about the country from coast to coast. I would give anything to be able to have an annual ritual like you described.
Mom and Dad are both gone, but my fondest memories of them involved the annual “vacations” we took in an old school bus, renovated into a camper by Dad, and painted a never before seen shade of turquoise that resulted from mixing all the paint colors Dad had in the garage.
We traveled from Kansas City to Colorado Springs when all us kids were school age. The Garden of the Gods used to be quite a bit larger, before Mom smuggled out a busload of rocks for her collection back home.
Thanks for the memories, John.
Chills…
That post inpired chills in my arms and warmth in my heart as I think of my own wonky, dysfunctional crew and how much they mean to me…
I’m the baby girl of eight of those characters.
Ours is a Thanksgiving sojurn up here in the mountains of Blue Ridge.
I love your words, John.
I see myself in them.
The truest stuff you ever wrote, John. Thanks so much for sharing. It gives a bit of insight as to how you became the great guy you are.
I’m a big believer in family traditions, John. May your last paragraph be so.
Makes me pine for my own family. Haven’t seen a couple of my siblings since 1996 other than skyping a few times a year. Down side of living in Alaska when half the family lives in the lower 48.
Sounds like your father in law is a wise man to set that get together up. I’m going to have to do something like that when my kids are grown.
Touching post, John. You’re lucky to have had that wonderful tradition of the family gathering at such a great location. I’ve seen a number of decades-long family traditions, both on my side and my wife’s, change and finally end as youngsters grow older and oldsters move on to the other side. But there’s no reason not to start new, meaningful family traditions. I hope your dream, as you so nicely described, comes true. Thanks for sharing.
My mother and an uncle were the glue that held our family traditions together. With them gone, us cousins have been holding the fort by gathering the extended family at the two religious holidays during the year. We already lost Thanksgiving as each family wanted to be with their own kids and grandkids. That saddened me because this is my favorite holiday, our kids live four hours away, and we have no grandchildren. Now the other holidays may dissipate the family ties too, because no one wants to have 40 people over their house. The member who sponsored our dinners (altho we each paid our share) at her country club dropped her membership. The next holiday is in Sept. and nobody has said a word about getting together. It’s sad when this happens but change is inevitable.
Lovely post, John. It’s increasingly difficult to got my farflung family together simultaneously, but now I’m inspired to try to set up something regular (and on neutral ground, like a rented house, which seems key).
I think it’s great that your family has a traditional get-together! I live with my immediate family, but we have never had any traditions with extended family, whom I don’t have a lot of to start with. We never get together with them over holidays. We all live so far apart.
John. You’re da man! Can’t wait to read when that fantasy comes to life.
Wonderful post. A few years ago I reconnected with my brother after nearly 20 years apart. No big family blowup, just a vast difference in ages and not a close family to start with. Now if 2-3 days go by and I don’t call me, he starts IMing me on Facebook. He was my rock during a life-changing catastrophe and the rather odd and bitter divorce it spawned. I often challenge people to reconnect with someone they thought was lost. Do it . . . plant that tradition and 30 years from now Chris will be writing this same post.