Continuing the Tradition

My earliest memories are of my annual family reunion. I look forward to it more than birthdays or Christmas. In elementary school I gloated to my peers how I had the best family reunion in the world. They would raise their eyebrows and roll their eyes at my sincere admiration. After a few years up the grade school ladder, I discovered that not everyone believes in reunions.

Without failing, my mother’s family travels to Mackey, Idaho, for the last week in June. Over a hundred people congregate in the mountains to honor the tradition that my grandparents started so many years ago. Quaking aspens line the canyon road that leads to Pass Creek. As I drive along the rugged trail I grab handfuls of passing leaves, scattering them in the mountain air. Stapled to a secluded tree, a paper plate with permanent marker sketched across it announces my arrival to the family reunion. My aunt Jaime’s famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with my aunt Deanna’s rice crispy treats welcome me there each year.

To start off each day, my relatives gather for the famous family reunion breakfast. Bacon, sausage, eggs and hashbrowns are made complete with the daily flipping of the prize pancake. Each day continues with hiking, swimming, fishing, horse riding, card playing, boat racing, and riding down the rope pulley. The day is made complete by sitting around the campfire with my uncles, aunts, and cousins. We sing with the guitar to “Sweet Bird” and “Pearly Shells,” and tell stories of past reunion adventures. When I am amidst that circle of family, I know that I am a part of something priceless. Because of those nights surrounded by the people I love, I value my family beyond any earthly possession.

In May of 2008, I graduated from high school. The day after my graduation I packed up my life and headed to Jackson Hole to work for the summer. Along with that decision I knew what gloomy possibility lurked on the horizon. As the last week of June swiftly approached, my heart was drawn to the mountains of Arco. Without my annual reunion, I felt as if the very threads that were holding me together would unravel. With this in mind I worked early and late hours and covered extra shifts to assure the last weekend in June off. As I made the four hour drive from Jackson Hole to Mackay I could not help my tears of relief.

My family reunion is a rare and special blessing that makes up a part of who I am. The overflowing campground at Pass Creek confirms my belief each year. My reunion is the reason why I miss school when I need better grades and take off work when I need more money. I believe in my reunion.