Another death in my family… My aunt, Naomi McKain, (the wife of Dad’s brother, Johnny, who passed many years before) was 88. But even at her age when many of her friends are already gone, not a parking spot was to be had upon my arrival at the funeral home. Naomi was from a big family but she married into a whole bunch of family members as well. You see, Dad was one of 13 siblings. The siblings had children and their children had children and many of their children now have children too. I seriously have trouble with the names of some of my FIRST COUSINS, you guys — not to mention their kids.
Family reunions from Dad’s side of the family were a conglomeration of singing and guitars and food and tons of boisterous playmates. As kids, we begged the musically inclined McKain brothers to play ‘Wipe Out’ so we could dance, and we all got in trouble for being too loud at one time or another. We would run outside and tumble down hills and spit in the grass. I’m pretty sure we were more like some crazy clan than a family.
A few short weeks ago my uncle, Ted Hancock, passed away at 82. He was the husband of my maternal Grandmother’s sister. My Mom is an only child — and my Grandmother, Nanny, was one of 5 girls. But those girls didn’t go off having a bunch of babies! No! Only one of Nanny’s siblings had children… and she only had one. Only 6 blood relatives attended Ted’s funeral — not because no family came… but because there’s simply no family.
The Wilson/Garriott’s (Mom’s side) didn’t have reunions that I recall. We did Christmas get-togethers and visited my Grandmother’s sisters (and they visited us too), but my memories are more along the lines of eloquent handmade Christmas bows, undercooked roast beef, lots of breakable antiques (including a player piano and a baby-blue feather couch with claw feet), mashed potatoes with real cream and a huge plop of real cow butter in the middle, pump-up mosquito sprayers that misted your bed’s covers with a stinky spattering of something that’s probably been declared unsafe by now, and the expectation that we behave as all good children should — a lot more seen and a lot less heard.
Crazy as it sounds, I never really thought about the differences between big families and small ones until today. I’m so very lucky to have grown up knowing how it feels to be a part of both. And, I’m and grateful for my wonderful families… big and small.