pondering....

...after listening to excessively long discussion at the family gathering on Saturday afternoon. As to why it seems the crowd shrinks each year. Some won't be back because they are underground, but there are lots that could and don't. Wondering why attendance has tapered off over the years, and relations do not (for any number of reasons) make the effort to get to the assembly each June.

When there was conversation about possibly scheduling in the fall instead of summer, with kids out of school, and families more likely to travel, the response was mixed with comments like VBS, family vacations, summer camp commitments, desire to have unscheduled time without obligations.Well, then: What about Spring Break? Noooooo, that won't do at all! How about Thanksgiving, like the clan used to do years ago, and celebrate at the old home place (now underwater)?  Nooo, not that! We always get together with in-laws, church family, etc. Well, what then?

No conclusion was reached, but as I have thought about this, it seems to me like people have to get to a certain age, a particular place in life to want to make the effort to drive, meet, gather year after year. The first couple of years were hard for me, and could understandably be difficult to really want to participate - not knowing people and feeling awkward, fifth-wheel'ish. But now: I'm going, you can come along if you want, or not. But I am going.

I believe that young people are not interested, unless their parents have kept close connections with cousins that provide a reason for the younger generation to want to spend time with each other. It is unlikely that young people will want to go, devote their time to family reunions, listening to the elders, parents, aunties, uncles, grands, telling stories about history, dead people, events that happened long ago. This lack of interest is due, I am convinced, to the fact that young people do not have the ability to look in two directions. They are young, anticipating, looking forward, and have no thought for what happened in the past. Not the first shred of desire to hear oft-told-tales about Uncle Joe wearing the lampshade on his head, or Aunt Jane sliding down the bannister. Or the time the fishing boat tipped over and Uncle Henry nearly drowned because he would not take his good hunting boots off and let them sink to the bottom, saving himself while loosing the boots in order to swim to shore.

They only look towards the future. And cannot realize that those people in the pas, as well as the ones telling the stories from history, are the ones who hold the lanterns, light the path, keeping history alive, contain the DNA that makes them who they are. Whereas, the older generations, people with adult children and antsy grandchildren who show up year after year, with the stories to tell, and embellish with each retelling: these people can look in both directions. Forward into the coming years, they expect to enjoy with much leisure time. And backwards into our collective past, as husbands of the history, and stories that make us who we are.

I don't believe the younger ones can have the vision. I think you have to have the years accumulate, to loose those you cherish (often to loose before you  realize their value) and have that empty space within that makes you long for things unretrievable. Live through the pain of grief and that loss of love that helps you to understand the importance of that which is forever gone. Beyond the reach. On the far side of the gap we mortals will not attain, though we can wish, dream, long for the presence of those who await.

I fear the younger generations will not be interested soon enough in carrying that flame, keeping the unity kindled to continue forward. They are not sufficiently aware of the value of the stories and amazing lives of the story tellers. They can only think of these elders as uncles or grandmothers, without seeing the irreplaceable worth of the memories they carry in their hearts. Unable to grasp the true value of that often oral history, that disappears from memory each time someone dies and takes the volumes of their lives with them.