Family Cookouts Belong in a Treasure Chest

Yesterday I posted my intentions for celebrating the 4th of July by attending a family cookout and I wish to report it was a blast. Since it had been years since my fourth had included a family cookout I was not sure what to expect. So I have to ask, have ever thought about all the little family nuances that make getting together so much fun?

Take getting there. I have a knack for always being in the wrong lane on the interstate when it comes to making a right or a left choice. Yesterday was no exception, thanks to the “bitch in the box” though it was no problem. Turn on the GPS, go around the block and poof, you’re back on track. My arrival was achieved.

Arriving a wee bit early allowed me to view other guests as they arrived, priceless. Every family has a gypsy, don’t they? My mother is ours and apparently her invitation said, “Bring the farm.”



When my father and mother pulled up it reminded me of the Clampetts arriving in Beverly Hills, chair included (folded and in the back seat though). I guess she thought my baby sister would not serve steamed possum or collard greens, (not really we do not possum) so she proceeded to unload her own cookout spread, bags of it. My poor father needed a nap just from unloading the car.

My new brother-in-law, I would later learn, did not want to do any grilling and I’m sorry to say he did not make this announcement public. I saw him put food on the grill and and I now know I should have offered help but did not. My mistake.

I selected a burger look-a-like while going through the food line and it was as I took my first bite that the un-vocalized offer of help came back to haunt me. My punishment was a burger that I know could have been used as a skipping stone to skip all the way across the Ohio River.

Mental note: When a man even thinks he does not want to grill, offer to grill it for him. You could later find yourself eating rock burgers.

By the way the games I mentioned, they were there. I saw them, on a corner table in the living room. No we did not ask about them and I guess they will go back to closet they came from. No games for my family.

Insects are another cookout dilemma. I must say there is always one person who tries to save that delusional bee which flew in a cup of cola. We had one yesterday. Her efforts of emptying the bee out in a safe location where rewarded by other family members laughing at the poor sugar coated bee never taking flight again, only to eventually be put out of his misery by an unsuspecting foot. Oops.

The cookout included old family friends that I spent most of the afternoon and evening reliving family memories with. When not reliving the past I would watch at my family interacting with each other, again priceless. Some things money just cannot buy.

It was as I relived the entire cookout this morning for grandmother that the day came into perspective. Regardless of how prosperous you think you are, regardless of how many things you fill your days with, these are not the things that matter.

Three Generations Women

In the end it will be those warped, dysfunctional, family memories that fill your treasure chest. Memories you can call up at a moments notice and bring a smile to your face. I hope your holiday weekend is full of treasure chest items that will always bring a smile to your face.

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