A Fun Family Reunion
by Douglas Young
part 1
“Are you coming or not?” An exasperated Dorinda Thompson called from the bottom stair as her 20-year-old son Oliver fussed with his hair. He had skipped the last three Thanksgiving family reunions at Aunt LaDonna and Uncle Mooney’s house two hours away. Always awkward facing so many relatives, he felt thoroughly inadequate when asked what he had done over the past year. Nor had he ever bonded with many of his kin there, and several of his relations had long struck him as distinctly disagreeable.
For most of his life he silently endured relatives’ various slights and insults, nursing them bitterly ever afterward. However, in adolescence, his anger began to trump his shyness, and he started to snap back sarcastically. But he only made the reunions more tense for himself and his mother, a feeling that prompted him to stop attending.
His older sister Sydonie always liked big family gatherings. Pleasant by nature, pretty, and enjoying company, she was a star at such affairs. Oliver envied how happily she seemed to glide through life. In high school, her story struck him as a never-ending parade of fun times with friends, dates, dances, and honors.
While Sydonie was their school’s most sought-after cheerleader on the homecoming court, he was in therapy twice a week, taking pills for anxiety and depression. Now she was president of her college sorority and, whenever relatives asked about her, she comfortably spoke at length about her many awards, travels, and exciting opportunities. Oliver felt his life looked palpably pale.
Oliver’s mother had let him miss the last three reunions out of concern for his state of mind and to avoid having to repair hurt feelings among any relatives annoyed at her son’s occasionally tart tongue. But she implored him to attend this year’s get-together because she sensed he had been more isolated of late, and she could not stand the thought of her solitary son spending still another Thanksgiving alone or her having to make up yet another excuse for his absence.
Oliver finally relented to join the rest of the family since he had been extra lonely. His mother assured him that many of his kin had asked about him and wanted to see him, an invention she saw as a noble lie. And his father had requested he join them this year, promising to chat with Oliver if he felt uncomfortable.
Why do I even care what these people think of how I look? Oliver asked himself as he painstakingly perfected the part in his hair. But he knew he cared far more what others thought than he liked to admit.
On the drive to Aunt LaDonna and Uncle Mooney’s house, Sydonie was continually on the phone talking, texting, checking images, videos and posts, and taking pictures. Oliver read a book, occasionally looked out the window, and periodically checked his watch to see how much longer until they arrived and how many more hours before they would be likely to return home.
“What a joy to have the whole family going to the reunion,” their mother exclaimed as Oliver burrowed deeper into his novel. “LaDonna says there’s gonna be a real fine turnout this year, sure enough. Won’t we have such a big time seeing everybody?”
“I wonder how Aunt Madina’s doing now,” her husband asked, smiling at his son in the rear-view mirror while his wife frowned at him.
“Now let’s please not make fun of my hypochondriac aunt,” Dorinda implored her husband.
“Let’s see now. As I recall, last year she was in the throes of hemorrhoids,” he noted.
“I remember her complaining about toe fungus at the last reunion I attended,” Oliver said grinning at his father in the rear-view mirror while his sister texted friends.
“I wonder what it’ll be this year,” their father said.
“Let’s bet on it,” Oliver replied.
“No, let’s not,” his mother interjected. “Now Aunt Madina’s always been high-strung, and we just need to be kind and understanding and remember her in our prayers. She’s so sweet and just needs someone to listen to her since the poor thing’s been a widow for more years than I can remember and just lonely as all get out.”
“Maybe we should find another hypochondriac for her to marry,” Oliver offered as his father chuckled.
“Now I mean it, y’all,” his mother insisted in a raised voice. “Please. We only see her once a year and for just a few hours at that. It means the world for Aunt Madina to get to see everybody, and she’s gonna be thrilled to see how much you’ve grown, Oliver.”
As they got nearer their destination, Sydonie grew more excited while her brother felt the butterflies in his stomach start to rise.
“Oh, now this is real important, y’all.” Their mother turned to her children in the back seat. “I want y’all to be extra sweet to your cousin Rhiannon Rand. Your aunt LaDonna tells me that Rhiannon’s had a right troublesome time in college. You know, she was always a real quiet little thing, and I ’spect leaving home was awful hard on her. Well, anyway, the poor dear was recently in a mental hospital for depression. So I want everyone to please be extra sweet to that child, you hear?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Sydonie promised. “We’ll make a point of making her feel extra welcome.”
“Thank you, sweetie. Oliver, did you hear me?” his mother asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Have I ever been anything but nice to Rhiannon, or anyone else at these things?”
“Well, you’ve made some pretty pointed remarks to a few of your kin, as I recall,” his mother declared.
“Richly deserved, and only to the jerks who took unprovoked shots at me first,” her son quickly replied.
“Honey, I know there are some difficult people in my family,” his mother acknowledged with raised hands. “And I’m not excusing any misbehavior. Believe me, I grew up with them, and I know better than anyone how tiresome some of them can be.” She sighed. “And I do so appreciate you joining us this year, Oliver. Oh, Lord knows, I do, dear. I just want this to go well so we’ll all want to come back next year and every year. Most of the family are really good people. So let’s please focus on them, ‘turn the other cheek’ if somebody’s rude, and just think what Jesus would do if anybody’s ugly.”
“As I recall, Jesus also ran the money-changers right out of the temple,” Oliver noted as his father winked at him in the rear-view mirror.
“Oliver, please don’t be difficult, dear, and do make a special effort to be sweet to your cousin Rhiannon.”
“Will do. She was always kind, real quiet, and had a pleasant smile. And she was cute, to boot.”
“Thank you, dear. Let’s just all be at our best today and make it a fun family reunion,” his mother stated with another sigh.
As they walked in the front door of Aunt LaDonna and Uncle Mooney’s home, a couple of dozen conversations were creating currents of noise flowing throughout the downstairs. Occasional bursts of laughter echoed above the din as people retold family stories with new wrinkles and exaggerations.
This could be the worst part of the whole affair for Oliver, since he had to greet so many people. But due to this year’s larger number of attendees, he was grateful for the extra volume and greater ability to get lost in the crowd, fondly recalling a line from one of his favorite authors, F. Scott Fitzgerald: “And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”
Oliver was relieved to spot his Great Uncle Thornton, who always had a kind word, shared a love of history, and harbored zero pretentions. Seeing him as an island of security in a sea of sharks, Oliver went to him.
Uncle Thornton proceeded to recount his recent trip to ancestral homelands in Scotland where he and Oliver’s Great Aunt Joanne had enjoyed exploring cities and hiking hills. “Nephew, I got more exercise than a fellow following his wife around one of them great big groceries.”
To a cousin who was walking by and asking where Joanne was, Thornton exclaimed, “Lord, I’ve lost my wife and I’m too old to train a new one. She’s around here somewheres. I’m confident she’ll turn up. After ’bout near sixty years of marriage, she hasn’t left me yet.”
Moving on to other relatives, Oliver noticed a petite girl his age standing alone with black hair and blue eyes, whom he soon realized was his cousin Rhiannon. Looking lonely and timid, she was prettier than Oliver remembered. Typically too intimidated to approach a good-looking girl, his cousin’s shared shyness reassured him, and he walked over to her. She smiled as he extended his hand and introduced himself.
“I know you. You don’t need to tell me,” she stated. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you at one of these.”
“Yeah, I’m not too partial to some of the company,” Oliver replied.
A giggle shattered her sad countenance and, suddenly, he adored her. They made small talk about their respective colleges while occasionally waving at or speaking to various relatives walking by them. Oliver was struck by how easily Rhiannon conversed, and he felt a charge each time he made her laugh talking about one eccentric relative or another.
Suddenly, their Great Aunt Madina gave each of them a hug and a kiss and inquired about their studies. Since neither her niece nor nephew was very comfortable talking about herself or himself, Rhiannon soon asked how their aunt was.
“Well, child, your aunt Madina is in the initial stages of Alzheimer’s,” she pronounced.
“Oh, my God,” a stunned Oliver exclaimed. But as she continued talking, it struck Rhiannon and Oliver that their aunt’s mind, speech, and manner appeared quite sharp. She soon departed to share her latest illness with as many other relatives as would listen.
When she left, their Great Uncle Lewis greeted them. He was a big man who was the most prominent doctor in the local small town. Oliver and Rhiannon had each been treated by him when visiting his family as children, and both were fond of his story-telling prowess. Oliver considered Lewis the smartest person in the whole family tree and, though he liked his great uncle immensely, felt extra self-conscious around him because he sensed Uncle Lewis could read his thoughts.
Rhiannon appreciated her uncle’s kindness and that he never inquired whether she had a boyfriend or asked why she didn’t. Her mother periodically consulted Uncle Lewis about her daughter’s delicate emotional health. Rhiannon not only knew this but wished her uncle were a psychiatrist she could visit.
Soon, the relative whom Oliver and Rhiannon felt most intimidating began holding court nearby, in his usual elevated voice. The Rev. Gideon Pillow was a cousin the same age as Uncle Lewis and made a point of being prominent everywhere he went. He had pastored more small, non-denominational churches than anyone could recall. Most of those churches had asked him to leave.
Though a gifted public speaker, Reverend Pillow displayed a pronounced penchant for dispensing with decorum in personal dealings, especially if he felt disinhibited from pushing his uncompromising interpretation of the Bible. Since early years, Oliver had timed how long before his pastor cousin invoked religion, no matter the topic. It had never taken more than two minutes. Whenever the minister inevitably inquired about the state of his soul, Oliver quickly changed the subject and moved on as soon as he could. Rhiannon studiously avoided Pillow altogether.
Cousin Gideon was standing close to Oliver, Rhiannon, and their Uncle Lewis when he started to discuss the recent death of a local 13-year old boy whose family attended the pastor’s latest church. The child had been a late-night passenger in a speeding car full of older teens that ran into a Mack truck, instantly killing the child.
Uncle Lewis stopped talking to listen closely to his cousin. Lewis was the boy’s family doctor who had been at the hospital when the child’s body was brought in by ambulance. Telling his desperate parents their son was dead had been one of the most emotionally searing experiences of his life, and the mother collapsed in his arms sobbing uncontrollably.
Lewis had never cared for Cousin Gideon, and the contempt was returned. Even as boys many decades before, Lewis had dismissed Gideon as a self-righteous blowhard. As children, they were frequently at odds and once had even broken into a fistfight. For decades, they had been carefully keeping their distance.
But Lewis was now keenly interested in his cousin’s confident pronouncements about the recent tragedy and felt engulfed by a rising wave of revulsion. He, Rhiannon, and Oliver listened closely as Reverend Pillow pontificated to some cousins from out of state.
“Yes, it’s a sad story that we’ve seen all too many times before,” the preacher loudly lamented. “A young boy running around with the wrong crowd, not properly disciplined by his parents. I’m afraid it was all too predictable, because they have serious troubles of their own. Such a sin and a shame the lad had yet to accept Christ. Alas, not two weeks before the accident, I asked yet again if he would be baptized to accept Christ as his Lord and Savior and join the ranks of the Redeemed. But he declined. Oh, how it pained my heart not to be able to console the parents that their boy was with the Lord in Heaven. It just grieves me to know that he now dwells forever in the fires of Hell.”
Oliver noticed his uncle’s nostrils flare as his eyes narrowed and seemed to bore into the pastor like lasers. Then the doctor spoke in a commanding voice: “You know, Giddy, it’s bad enough you still peddle such bullshit. I’m just curious if you actually believe any of that crap.”
The silence enveloping the immediate area chilled all who heard. Folks sensed they were witnessing what would surely be a major event in family history as Gideon Pillow turned to his cousin with a startled expression of outrage. “I most certainly do believe the Word of God,” he declared. “Indeed, that is all I preach, and I pity anyone who doubts one perfect syllable of it. But I will pray for you, Lewis, that at last you untangle yourself from the wiles of Satan and return to the faith of your fathers before it’s too late.”
A growing number of relatives stopped talking to stare and listen, and Uncle Mooney and Aunt LaDonna, concerned that something might be happening to jeopardize their carefully planned dinner, turned toward the combatants to see if anything was remiss.
“Ah,” Lewis proclaimed, “just when we need kindness, compassion and comfort, we get his Holy Obnoxiousness Himself, the Rev. Ass Wipe, who gives us a walking advertisement for a laxative: ‘Extra Strength.’”
There were gasps and Oliver noted shocked faces all around, but he saw Rhiannon was smiling.
Initially stunned, Gideon raised his head and pointed at Lewis. “Your words have no effect on me, cousin, for I know Satan has put them into your mouth. I pity you but I will nevertheless pray that you turn away from your wickedness to become a true Christian role model worthy of this town’s respect.”
With a sarcastic chuckle, Lewis retorted, “It’s a real shame this town didn’t have a good whorehouse when we were growing up so you could’ve flushed some of that crap out of your system.”
“How dare you talk to a man of God like that,” Gideon shot back.
“And Hell is full of sons of bitches like you,” Lewis replied with a grin as Gideon blanched.
To Oliver’s delight, a few folks chuckled, including Rhiannon.
“Lewis, your weak words have absolutely no effect on me,” Gideon declared, “for I am bathed in the blood of Christ—”
“Keep talking, and I’m gonna bathe your ass in your own blood.”
Sharing a look of horror, LaDonna and Mooney stepped between the cousins.
“Now that’s enough!” LaDonna declared. “Both of you. This is Thanksgiving, for Heaven’s sake, and I won’t have such strife in this house. Enough, I say. Enough!”
The combatants’ wide-eyed wives arrived to pull them away and, in a booming voice, Mooney proclaimed it was time to eat. Lewis had a fixed smile while Gideon appeared discombobulated. Their wives led them to opposite sides of the house.
People began talking again, in low tones at first but quickly becoming boisterous. While everyone lined up to fill dinner plates, Oliver and Rhiannon grinned at one another.
“Now, Cuz,’” he observed, “I’d say we just witnessed the greatest moment in the history of these family reunions. In fact, I do believe I will be deep into dementia before forgetting this day.”
Laughing and nodding, Rhiannon replied, “I’m so glad my mom pushed me to come here.”
Copyright © 2024 by Douglas Young
