Family everywhere

We Homo sapiens all share the human genome, so we’re among relatives whether we roam in Africa or North America or anywhere else. But I also get a sense of wholeness by reconnecting with the cousins and aunts and uncles who peppered my childhood.

My mom, the youngest of four girls, was the sole sister to remain in Nebraska after the older three and then their mom resettled on the west coast. As my siblings and I grew up, Mom took us on summer trips by train from Nebraska to Oregon, where we stayed with aunts and uncles in Eugene, Medford, and Central Point, and we camped and swam and played with our beloved Oregon cousins. Then, alas, we grew up and the cousin roundups ended. The last time I saw the entire Oregon family was in January of 1990, when 8-year-old Marie and I flew from Anchorage to Medford for Grandma Marie’s 90th birthday celebration.

Traveling with Mom and Dad brings me partly up to date again. En route to Portland, we crossed the Columbia River into Washington and swung up to Yakima where Aunt Ardythe and Uncle Milt moved many years ago. Mom and Ard are the youngest pair of sisters, and Ard always felt like another mom to me. Milt had a stroke six years ago and uses a wheelchair now. He can no longer do his extraordinary gardening, but his interior self is just as I remember. When I asked him for gardening advice, he told me – slowly, carefully, and clearly - that it was all there in my head and my heart, and that I shouldn’t be afraid to try things. My cousin Judy walked me through the terraced garden that she is tending now. Judy – who is not a little kid anymore!

Dad served his apple pancakes the evening we spent in Ard and Milt’s home, and he made sure that Judy and Jeff’s 20-year-old son John joined us (“John really ate a lot of pancakes last time”). Then we sat out back in the warm, sweet air and talked of past and present events. Mom recalled the summer that Ard left for San Francisco, and Ard mentioned moving in – both Ard and Eva Mae! – with their big sister Elaine and husband Gene. 1948 maybe? That was a brief chapter I’d never heard about before.

The next week, after the Mt. Hood campout, we spent an evening in Oregon City with my cousin Sharon and her husband Dean. They were caring for happy, huggable baby Ryan, or “Smalls” as Dean affectionately calls him. Sharon is as spunky as ever, and Dad complimented her on her ability to express herself. “Your words just flow,” Dad told her, as she brought us up to date on their life. At dinner earlier at Tebo’s, their daughter Nicki briefly stopped by. What a beautiful young woman, so like the spirited 10-year-old who welcomed my Marie at the long-ago party for Grandma Marie.

Leaving Oregon City, we headed toward Olympia to find the home of Dad’s cousin Gary and Bev. They live in Lacey near a stretch of the trees that give Washington its “evergreen” name. A round, raised garden bed in the sunshine on their patio was bursting with beans and tomatoes and carrots. Inside, Bev showed us her grandson’s glass art while Gary and Dad talked endless politics. Then we sat down to Bev’s incredibly good rhubarb pie. I lingered longer than I intended over coffee and conversation and the awareness that my parents and I were parting here.

Our camping was done but not the travels. Mom and Dad were soon to go south to see more of Mom’s family in Oregon. At Gary’s brilliant suggestion, they discovered Amtrak could take them to Eugene and later to Sacramento, making a rental car unnecessary. They already had reservations to return to Omaha via cross-country Amtrak. I felt a tug to accompany them and see my other two Oregon aunts – Eva Mae and Elaine – and a bunch more cousins as well. But that will have to wait until another time.

Instead, I turned my nose toward the north. A familiar stretch of I-5 took me right through Seattle to Everett, where Geri – part buddy, part mom – was waiting for me. So nice of my friend Lisa to share her mom. While my parents caught up with sisters and nieces and nephews in Oregon, Geri and I were working out at Curves and eating fresh blueberries for breakfast and watching the backyard cats and squirrels and bluejays. In the evenings, a ray of sun crept up the trunk of a huge cedar tree in Geri’s yard, and the nights got darker than the camping nights of just a week ago.

For any family out there still tuning in to this short-term blog, I plan to post one more piece and a few more photos, so check back in a few days. And thank you for reading!