The Corn Roast

Punky and I had a safe return yesterday from our little getaway.  The weekend was nice, but the best part for me was simply getting to spend four whole days with my baby without having to leave her to go to work.  I wish I had that opportunity more often.

Anyway, on Sunday we went to the annual corn roast / family picnic at my aunt & uncle's farm.  If I had to guess, they've been having it about 25 years now at least.  It was a nice day, sunny and warm.  A welcome change since it seems to rain most years.  

As usual, the corn was absolutely delicious.  There was so much food, and it was hard to resist picking all day long.  Everything was yummy.

My aunt had a jar full of pennies and had everyone guess how many were in it.  Each year it's something else in a jar.  Whatever it is, my guess is never even remotely close to correct.  I suck.

Some people bring instruments...drums, guitars, banjos...and create a little background music off and on throughout the day.  And when they take a break from playing, the kids enjoy banging the hell out of the drums.

The annual volleyball game was played in the afternoon.  I never play.  I hated volleyball in gym class in school, and I haven't played it since then I don't think. 

People sat around telling stories and making small talk, pausing for the occasional trip up the hill to the trailer to pee. 

When I think about it, the day could've been a carbon copy of years gone by, except for the fact that everyone is older.  Some have died, others have been born, but the day happens as usual no matter who the players are.

Of course, Punky was the new addition to the festivities this year.  I think everyone enjoyed seeing her, for most it was the first time and for some only the second.  As I watched others holding her, my mind had time to wander.

I know these people are family, but outside of the related DNA, what does that really mean?  Even though I've known them literally my entire life, I hardly know them.  Any of them.  And suddenly it seemed strange.

I looked at my cousin holding Punky.  Where does she work?  What does she do?  What does her house look like?  How does she spend her weekends?  What's her favorite food?  I can't answer a single one of these questions.  I know she has two kids and a husband.  I know their names but can't remember ever speaking directly to them. 

I turned my attention to another cousin.  Same deal.  Other than the occasional bit of small talk, I really have no clue about her life at all either.  I have no concept of who she really is.

One by one I glanced at cousins, aunts, uncles...rating each one on a scale of 1-10 for how well I feel I really know them.  No one would ever be a 10.  I think people always have some part of them that they keep only for themselves so you can never really know everything about someone other than yourself.  My own immediate family would fall in the 8-9 range on the scale...and the other family at the picnic would really lie in the 1-3 range.  And a three may be pushing it.

I was surprised at this realization.  It just seems such a sharp contradiction to the meaning of the word "family". 

If I had to describe most of these people to a total stranger, in many cases I would be at a loss for words beyond physical appearance, marital status, and kids' names.  For most, I could only supply a general sentence or two like "My cousin's wife is funny.  She's a great cook." 

I guess in reality, I would feel slightly more comfortable being stuck in an elevator with these people then I would with people I never met.  But only slightly.  Not enough to take comfort in their presence...I would think they'd have to be at least a 5 or 6 for that, but enough to feel not entirely alone.  Know what I mean?  It's a bit disturbing.

In all fairness, I suppose they don't know me all that well either.  They may not care at all if I were in their elevator. 

So, is this normal?  It this how extended family relationship are?  We are all connected because the circles of our immediate families overlap, which brings with it some unwritten obligation to get together once in a while.  Exchange funny stories.  Share good food.  Drink some spiked punch.  Play some music.  Then return to our daily lives and collect more funny stories to tell at the next gathering.  Learn new recipes to try.  Practice our music...

On a side note, Punky was so good this weekend, as always.  I am truly blessed to have such a great baby.  And, most importantly, Aunt P got her hugs.  Two of them in fact.  Right before we left to come back home yesterday.  And I think she feels much better now.