Each summer my brothers, sister, and I would spend about a week at Grandma and Grandpa's house. It was a week for us to run wild, stay up late, play all day at the park, swim at the pool, and eat as much cookie dough as we could handle. We lived for this week each summer, and now that I am a parent I am sure that my parents LIVED for this week as well. (Can you say FREEDOM!) We played games of Posy Pitch and Yard Darts (the javelin-will-poke-your-eye-out-or-impale-you kind). We slid down the huge slide at the park with wax paper so we would go faster. We snuck black-cherry Shasta out of the fridge after bedtime. We (being me) climbed through the crawlspace and got caught red-handed and hung-out-to-dry by my siblings who had gone before me. No seriously, my butt was literally hanging out of the crawl space window when Grandma caught me, and they acted all innocent like it was my idea. My brothers went commando one summer, and told grandma that, "They didn't wear underwear anymore." She called home, discovered their lie, and then threatened to make them pink, silky panties if they ever came to her house again without their underwear, ending that threat with, "And you WILL wear them and like it." We got as many pancakes as we could eat every morning. And grandpa always bought us the biggest blizzards they made a Dairy Queen; we called them "Grandpa Smalls".
Every Christmas we grandkids packed the basement. We played Thirty-One all night, or until Uncle Kenny got mad, stormed out and yelled, "You play cards like a fish, I ain't playing a G--- D--- card game with people who make up the rules as they go." (I am sure there were other expletives in there - nobody could cuss us out like Uncle Kenny.) We kept air freshener at the table because our family was full of hot air in more than one way, and to this day, the smell of apple-cinnamon still makes me gag. We serenaded anyone who lost with the song "Happy Trails" - led by Aunt Tami. We would play until 3:00 in the morning, or until whomever was in college had won enough laundry money for the next few months. Jane got to sleep upstair because she was the first to have "greats". Joe and Jarod snored in the recliners upstairs, and we could hear them through the floor. In the basement, sleeping bags and air-mattresses lined the floor. Jason and Bud blasted their discmans. Jen used my stomach for a pillow and stole my covers. Laura cried that she was in hell because of all the noise. And we loved every crowded second of it. The next day we crowded into the upstairs living room. We exchanged tons of gifts, and Joe usually got old-lady underwear. I can't remember the joke behind it; I just remember it was funny. And then we ate. Boy did we eat. Homemade dressing and rolls. Real mashed potatoes and gravy. Turkey and ham. And the pies, oh, the pies. Grandma did it right (and somehow we grandkids managed to get out of doing dishes almost every time!)
You see, I watched over 100 people carry away my grandparents' stuff this weekend, and they had a ton of stuff - 60 years worth. A comment was made about all the stuff, how it just sat there waiting to be sold, a lifetime worth of collecting -- gone. What's the point? That is when I said that this stuff served a purpose. It built a family. And it brought us all back home. Our home sweet away from home. The stuff may be gone, but the family remains, and I am so blessed to be a part of this loud, opinionated, dedicated, emotional, party-like-a-rock-star family.
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