I went to a family reunion Sunday, my father's side of the family. It's mostly older people in attendance these days, folks my age; young people don't care about relatives they've never known. I don't intend that statement as a put-down, because I was in that group myself for years, and still am even at this age, to some extent. Once Grandma and the aunts and uncles were gone, not to mention my parents, I didn't have much desire to attend. For that matter, after I married I ignored most reunions for ages. Then Daddy died and Mother was old, and I went to the reunions to please her.
I always saw more of my mom's side of the family when I was growing up; Daddy's mother died in childbirth in the 1920's, so there was no grandma to visit, just a deaf and blind grandpa who mostly sat in the corner and smoked his pipe. Sometimes we'd swing by one of Daddy's brothers' houses for a quick visit after spending a day with my mom's relatives, but I didn't know the Allens as well, although I do remember playing with the cousins sometimes when we were there.
In 1944, my father and three of his brothers all happened to have baby girls born. I think I'm the oldest of the lot, born in July. One of them, Lela, has spent her whole life in rural north Missouri. The cousins I got to know the best in my father's family are two of them who lived near us when we first moved to the unincorporated area of Kansas City known as Harlem: Frances and Alice. We later graduated together at North Kansas City High School in 1962.
When we first moved to Harlem around 1956, our three families all lived in small apartments in the same two-story building, the downstairs of which had once been a mom-and-pop grocery store. Frances's family had a rest room to themselves, although their apartment was just one big room. There were seven of them and a parakeet living in that small space. Alice's family had what I thought was the nicest apartment of the four in the building; they had to share the rest room with us upstairs apartment-dwellers, but it was in a hall right outside their door. My mom, dad, and I had a cramped three-room space upstairs. We'd never had an inside toilet or running water before, so that was a first, even if we did have to go downstairs to relieve ourselves. We didn't have the luxury of a bathtub or shower, the water in the sink only ran cold, and my bed was the the couch in the living room.
I was miserably homesick for the north Missouri countryside, but I got to know my two cousins while we lived there, especially Alice, who has always been very outgoing and cheerful. Frances was quieter and much more of a private person. None of us lived in that apartment building long, but the memories of that place have really stuck with me. We talked about Harlem at the reunion, and how it was living there when we were all so poor. By the way, I'm still the poorest of the lot, if you count monetary wealth. But I've lived a wonderful life in the country that I wouldn't trade with any city dweller.
I did enjoy going down memory lane with those two cousins, both of whom are some of the nicest people you'd ever meet. It was a day well spent, at least on my part. I'm not sure they care as much about dwelling in the past as I do, but it was fun for me.
I wonder how many more reunions there will be as, one by one, we shuffle off this mortal coil.
