Filled with the family spirit

Do you know where you come from?  I did not grow up with extended family in my hometown, but we visited as often as we could. My parents had emigrated from central Georgia to western NC, via Tennessee, in the mid-1960s.  They, and their siblings, were the first generation to go far from home since my European ancestors hit this continent in the 1800s. But enough brothers and sisters and aunts and cousins remained in central Georgia so that everywhere we went, an older relative would introduce a complete stranger something like this: "This is your father's grandfather's brother's niece." And to them, "This is Gene and Beverly's girl."

So I have wonderful memories of Thanksgivings, Easters, and summer holidays in Georgia surrounded by tons of aunts, uncles, and cousins.  My mother is the youngest of six; my father is the second of four children. This holiday weekend we made the commitment to make the trek to central GA because BOTH sides of the family were having get-togethers. I was deeply regretting this decision in the wee hours of last Wednesday, when a stomach bug hit.  Then instead of packing in the late morning I had to spend two hours on a flurry of paperwork and money-transfer crisis to keep the new magazine on schedule. Ugghhh. But I was able to swallow enough immodium to set out on the 6 hour drive, which took us a mere 9 hours in holiday traffic. My dear husband drove until my eyes un-crossed.

But it was totally worth it. On Thursday we met at my mom's sister's lovely house on 100 acres. My kids remembered our visit there three years ago.  I had one aunt (Shirley) and two uncles (Ben and Glen) present, plus my parents, plus cousins (Sheila, Bill, Lisa, Craig, Chris, Susannah, Benjamin, John) and their spouses/children (Connie, Roy, Darriff, Angela, Annlee, Toby, Shianne, Rhett, Cam, and Hayden).  My boys had a BLAST playing with their cousins--no TV all day, and no one complained because they were engaged in bike races or treks thru the woods or target practice. Everyone brought food, from Turducken to a stuffed pork loin, from field peas to mac and cheese. My mom and Shirley had been in the kitchen the entire day before--and what a feast it was.

Then on Friday we went to a cane grinding hosted by relatives whose connectivity to me I still cannot trace. But the handsome farmer stirring the 55-gallon pot of boiling sugar cane syrup looked at me then broke into a huge grin when he saw my dad standing beside me.  "Knew that had to be Bevie's girl!" was his cheerful welcome.  We watched the cane process and the boys rode in the wagon behind the tractor to get more cane, in the rain, with big smiles. We dined on venison sausage and farm-raised beef (which the farmers simply call meat). My kids chewed on sugar cane stalks.

We visited Poplar Springs Methodist Church. All four of my grandparents are buried there. We buried my Grandmother Stewart there on a 100F+ day in August 2007 in her 90th year. Members of the tiny church opened the hall and fed us cookies and tea and lemonade. Also buried at Poplar Springs are six of my eight great-grandparents. My children were awe-struck to be standing beside the graves of great-great grands, until I took them to the grave of a great^5 grandfather, Redding Beasley.  More on him later. It is humbling to see the older generation go underground, one by one.  My grandmother Stewart was one of 16 children.  Two infant boys are buried there, and one other son died at 20 years, but the remaining 13 siblings ALL lived/are living past 80, and we visited the "baby" this morning. He retired 10 weeks ago! At almost 81! We drove past farms/houses that belonged to both sets of grandparents, two sets of great-grands, great uncles/aunts, and the site of the family reunion where I last saw my Pa Stewart alive, mere weeks before he died unexpectedly in his sleep in 1979. We saw the field that once held the house where my father was born, and the field that one held the house where my mother was born. We saw the church campground where my father first saw my mother in the summer of 1953. We passed the chapel that they married in, in 1958, on a June day so hot that the candles melted sideways.

Yesterday my father and his siblings got together, and so I was able to see Ann &Dee, Joye&Jerry, and Donna & David in the afternoon. Then my cousin Lisa had the whole crew over, and I was able to see Lisa and Roy, Angela, Annlee, Craig, Kyle, Chris, Cam, Hayden...wait, you say? wasn't this this same crew as Thursday? yes....I have "double first cousins" from the marriage of my father's older sister to my mother's older brother. In addition, we were joined by Aaron, Cori, Luke, Deacon and Kensley for another fabulous feast. Roy, Lisa's husband, was explaining the difference between first cousins and first cousins once removed (vs our less refined moniker of "second cousin").  I listend intently. Then I told Roy about our visit to Poplar Springs. And standing at the grave of Redding Beasley, who occupies 3 of the possible 16 great^4 grandfather slots on my family tree. And then I mentioned that because I'm his wife's double-first-cousin, zero times removed, the same is true for her!