BLACK SHEEP GETS BLACK BALLED/LISTED

Before I continue, I must identify what I meant by “black sheep,” “black balled and “black list.” The typical meaning of “black sheep” is a worthless member of a decent family. Since, I do not think I am worthless, the typical definition does not apply to me, nor do I think it applies always to other black sheep . The use of “black sheep” in some cases is used too literally/harshly or it is used incorrectly unless explained. An example, would be our great, great, great uncle James Burroughs that served in the Cival War. He became a hermit living in the woods in SC across the river from Savannah, Ga. (His family lived in Savannah, but some members migrated to St. Augustine during and after the Civil War.)  James' vivid memories of the killing in the Civil War of his friends, family and fellow comrades left him riddled with guilt and he suffered back flashes. Dad says, as a very young boy, he remembered visiting with his uncle several times in his encampment in the woods. He described him as a good man who seemed very sad and lost.  James could not cope with society, but many in the family associated him as being a " black Sheep."
                                                 
                                                               "There is a black sheep in every flock"....Proverbs

In my case “black sheep” refers to…, one that is very different from the norm, in comparison to my other three sisters. I am the “bad” sister that was the troublemaker, the mouthy/bossy one, who had to have the last word. I was the opinionated one, who did not necessarily judge, but felt she needed to relate how she saw things from her point of view. Of course, that point of view was not always appreciated or viewed in the same manner, especially if it hit a negative vibe. Sometimes the "manner" upon which that opinion was delivered wasn’t exactly acceptable either. (Anger, sarcasm, under your breath, written???) I sometimes cannot let go of what bothers me or forgive too easily, especially if I have been “dealt a card from the bottom of the deck.” Thank goodness, for the most part, I forgive/forget pretty fast these days. To put it mildly, my youngest sister, from the time she was a child until her adult years, found my antics/views extremely annoying or hard to swallow. She especially disliked it when I shared these view with everyone. This leads to the next definitions….”Black Balled/Black List.”

     "Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind”...Santiz

 
“Black list” is a list of persons who are believed to deserve punishment. “Black Balled” is defined as ostracized. In my case…removed from existence from an e-mail account, therefore placed on a “black list”. Since, this is exactly what happened, I will go with the dictionary's version of both words. If said “sister” knew about this blog, it would be ostracized and maybe I would be too. Then too, a lack of interest in computers, internet, blogs, facebook, etc.  will keep me safe for a while. The rest of my family does not realize I have returned to my blog. Consequently , I do not have to worry about the rest of  them ostracizing me yet. It is only a matter of time time before they become aware of my transgressions, for I always get caught. As you can see, I can be a very naughty girl. Eventually, I feel sure that someone I know will end up reading this and will think I have lost it. In actuality, I suppose in later years, it might serve as an entertaining read. I can hear it now, “I can’t believe she is actually wrote all this crap” etc.

Now, as mentioned above, I have been put on my own sister’s black list. I guess I should be upset that I created this sisterly blowup, but instead, I find myself laughing. I will not go into detail about what transpired to begin this “black ball” situation. Technically I did not start the process; I simply reported the facts. It is not every day you get black listed by your own sister. When I think back on what happened that Thanksgiving Day, I would have reacted in the same way now as I did then. Part of the humor was that I really wasn’t extremely upset. I was just reporting what her husband told me to do when he loudly went out my back door. He raised his voice and said "Now make sure you talk about me when I leave" or words very similar in nature. I responded that he could be sure that I would do just that.  Since, I always do what I say;  I followed through and BANG trouble began in "SISTER City". Am I regretting this…NO…but I have been put in the position that for the sake of family, I  need to back off from a few mixed family events, for the importance of peace. Although, ALL my sisters and their children are welcome in my home any time.

Since I, Susan Livingston Thompson, have written this on my blog, I guess it is an example of my not completely letting go...I AM WORKING ON IT. (Any grammical, verb, spelling and puncuation errors were deliberate.)

THE MOLDING OF SUE: PART ONE

When I look back on my childhood I wondered what events molded me into what I am today and why. I can remember tales of mischief told to me by my grandmother, MaPa, Shep (A very dear friend of the Livingston family who moved with us to SC many years ago.), Aunt Alta, Cousin Gay, Unk, Dad, Mom and Aunt Emmy. Some of those memories I vaguely remembered doing, some I don’t. Some memories I remembered in a different perspective than their version. This is part one of a three part series that I will present periodically throughout my blog.

Shep loved to tell me the story of my diaper years when he helped Mom clean-up the most ungodly scent and mess he had ever witnessed. He said what made the reeking event even worse was my mischievous face. He swears that I knew exactly what I had done by the spark in my eyes and the cocky smile that was displayed on my very smelly, dirty face. He said that when they entered the room, I was standing in my crib smearing brownish/green mucky “number 2” in an artful manner all over the wall. It was literally in slow motion; the way I looked at Mom and him, dug into my diaper, came up with a handful... I smiled, looked them in the eye, threw it on the wall, and started squiggling “dunk” everywhere . He said the worst part was Mom yelling for Ted, my Dad, who entered and after seeing the mess started laughing which in turn started Shep laughing too. Shep indicated that Mom was livid at the two of them for she knew I would get sick or poisoned by the gunk that was hanging from my mouth, face, and body. They were, also, encouraging “said” behavior by their laughter. Needless to say, it took the three of them hours to clean-up. I joyously giggled and played without a care in the world while they grumbled and gagged. Maybe Mom was right, this possibly may have been the beginning of my shenanigans that tempered the Livingston family of my presence.

While Earl Sheppard is on my mind; he, Dad and Mom would drink "highballs" while listening to all types of music from opera, operettas, to classical music. On occasion, they would take Peggy and me to Charleston and Columbia to hear, as well as see the performance of many of these operas. I thank my parents and Shep many times for instilling in me a love for ALL types of music. I bless Shep for getting me through the 1st grade that I failed due to persistent discipline problems with the Nuns. “When I was in the 1st grade I went to the Catholic school in Fredricksburg, Va. The nuns used to send notes home to my parents that I was NOT supposed to wear pants to school. I would hide these notes. I left home in a skirt and changed on the bus to pants that was hidden in my satchel. One day a particularly mean Nun, that I did not like, grabbed me real hard; and she demanded that I change my attire. I broke loose and started running from her. I looked ahead and saw this huge mud puddle.  When I got to it, I stopped in the middle of it and started laughing.  I quickly dodged as she grabbed for me. She slipped, and fell face first into the puddle. I was looking at this very muddy-faced Nun with her long black habit dripping in gunk. You can imagine my surprise and delight; and I doubled over laughing. Needless to say, when my parents found out about what I had done, they were furious. I got double punishment, a spanking and “sent to bed.” That was one of those times being sent to bed did not bother me. I laid in my bed and smiled as I relived that entertaining moment in time. Every day after this my satchel was checked. Thank goodness after the 2ND  year, we moved to SC."  I have to admit, I also failed because of my lack of patience with the learning process. Shep had to tutor me the whole summer so I could move with my class to the 2ND grade. Between Daddy, Mom, and Shep, I not only learned to enjoy reading; I also learned to appreciate all types of subject matter and reading material. Until I got my Kindle, I was NEVER without a book in my purse/pocketbook. I never got bored if stranded for I had my book for entertainment. I am a lucky person in that I can read while riding in a moving vehicle.

MaPa was always telling me the story of her placing me in the “NO” Chair.” Evidently, spanking did not seem to bother me so Mom and Dad came up with the idea of defining a particular chair that I had to sit in without moving for certain periods of time depending on my offense. MaPa unknowingly placed me in this chair to change my clothes and all “hell” broke loose for I started hollering and yelling MaPa “I good, I good” over and over again; and banging my hands and head against the chair rattling it back and forth. Dad and Mom had a terrible time trying to explain to me that my MaPa did not know it was the “bad” chair. Ma Pa used to say that my temper tantrums were so bad that I would start biting the side of my hand in anger. For years into my adulthood I would bite the side of my hand to keep from losing my cool. I guess by punishing myself I managed to calm down.

The worse thing my Mom and Dad could do to me, discipline wise, was to limit my activities by sending me to bed, denying me the use of my bike,  not hanging out on my swing, etc. There is no one on this earth I adored more than my Aunt Janet. I named my daughter after her. "She had this parakeet named Whiskers, I think. My Mom would dread when a customer came into our motel office if Aunt Janet's room door was open. Whiskers would bellow out “King Cotton, no damn good!” The bird was most realistic sounding and had a very good vocabulary." Anyway, Aunt Janet liked to remind me of my bike that Dad would hang up a tree outside her bedroom window. It tickled her that she was the first one to know whether I got to ride my bike on a given week. He used a pulley rope to move my bike into an upward position in the tree when my grades or behavior were not the best; and he would return it to the ground as a reward for improvement. Again limiting my favorite thing to do, riding my bike. I am NOT complaining for these were inventive ways of managing their very stubborn daughter who was NOT particularly crazy about school. These methods I would have used on my own kids, but I was fortunate NOT to have too many discipline problems with my son or my daughter. Maybe, biting my hand scared them "shitless". Yep, I am laughing at myself…sorry!

I could not wait for Aunt Emmie to come visit. (Aunt Em was Theodore Burroughs Livingston's, my grandfather, sister. Aunt Em had a fixation when it came to our Chinese Chest that was in our living room at the King Cotton Motel. She would spend hours searching in every conceivable place for the secret drawer that she knew lay hidden in its structure. Although quite elderly, you never knew when she would be lying on the floor under or behind that chest pushing, pulling. or gliding her finger across the chest looking in frustration for the secret compartment that she knew held a treasure. (All four of the Livingston Sisters would look, but we never found that drawer. I have always wondered, and keep forgetting to ask Gay, if she and her family ever take the time to look.  (Maybe we should have taken all the drawers out and look behind them.)

Also, I was the lucky one, if they needed a fourth at Bridge, Hearts and Canasta. Aunt Em would come from St. Augustine with Aunt Alta, Aunt Gertrude and Unk, or Cousin Gay. Not only was I the oldest, but I loved playing cards with them. Not to brag, but I was also very good at cards and caught on quickly. For some reason when I sat down to play cards I clammed up, kept a straight face, and focused on the game; three traits that I normally do not possess. It bugs me to this day when too much talking occurs while we play games or cards. My big problem was I did not like to lose. My Mom did not play Canasta and Bridge; therefore, she would get real upset when I showed signs of impatience or made “sour or negative” comments between game sets, etc. Dad would shake his head with his finger to his lips for silence, and informed me that it was just a game. He would remind “Margaret” that she was not playing and he would handle it. He would proceed to shake his head in a negative manner, again, and l would lip read; “Now Sue, please behave yourself.” My aunts would smirk and Mom would throw up her hands in frustration. I hate to say this yawl, but I learned from the best.

Thus, I have come to the end of my 1st Edition to the Molding of Sue. I will simply say some learn, while others do not, from events that took place in the past.

I AM BACK TO ENTERTAIN MYSELF

I have returned. After many months not writing, I realized that I missed expressing myself. My approach to this continued blog will basically be the same. Except, along with memories of the past(good or bad) I will also do a journal of my thoughts, observations and feelings. Since I have been away for so long, I doubt very seriously if anyone will be reading what I write. In fact, I doubt if anyone will remember the name of my blog. Nor am I going to inform anyone that I have continued this blog. Before they felt obliged to read it; because I am a friend, parent, relative etc. I will critique my writing and either pat myself on the back or point a finger at myself, shake my head, and say “shame, shame, shame on you for being so bad”. This is GOOD for now I can write what I like and not worry about offending anyone. (Nope! That is impossible for I do this on a regular basis without even trying.)

My blog will be like an open diary on how I feel. I will treat and indulge myself in what I call “self-help therapy”. What do I mean by this? Simply, I can read and listen to myself talk since no one really listens to what I have to say. Maybe I should say they half-listen or they simply do not have the time to listen. I will be my own best friend. This is good for there are some, my sister Mary Gay for one, who would find fault or make negative judgments no matter what I write or how I write it; maybe, because of the possibility of the whole world reading it. (I wonder how many in the World read and took issue on that statement.) Thank goodness, I do not have to worry about her or any of her family/friends reading this anyway. None of them are computer literate to the extent of finding this blog. If they did find my blog, it would be by accident or someone "tattled." To my sister it would be of little interest, silly, or possibly shocking. Now the rest of the family does have above average computer skills, especially Lacy, who has her own Blog. She may remotely, out of curiosity, decide in the future to check-out my blog; and she may pass along my indiscretions to others in the family. Not to worry, I have myself well covered……”Age, along with strong sleeping pills grabbed hold of me during the night without my knowledge and made me write this junk.” I always tell Peggy everything, but this time she will not know either. A few stories to follow this introduction will be “Good Sister, Bad Sister”, “Dad: A Wise Man of Many Talents”, “Four Sisters: How Can They be so Different?”, “Fighting Your Own Battles Without the Support of Family” and address the topic on how you can become the “underdog” for the following statement: He said, “make sure you talk about me when I leave….I said I would," I did, and still paying the price for doing so. I am curious to see how I will approach this topic and not step on more toes... NADA!...I feel them breaking now...OUCH!


I have now triggered my own imagination with surly remarks and interest filled topics.  I will take a break until after the 4TH of July. Sue… have a great 4TH with Claire, Laura, Nancy and Paige. Poor Jim has to work, but he loves burgers and that will be his dinner. With a hacking cough and no sleep, I am about to embark on a week with my granddaughter and her best friend...HELP!

JUDGE AND BE JUDGED?

This post is one of two that I started before my trip to Ann Arbor. I had a hard time trying to express myself, so it was put aside in what I call “my maybe file”. I have been so busy doing other projects I have not had time to write a post on my fantastic trip to Ann Arbor and Chicago. I have now decided to write that trip into two posts at a later date.

In the mean time I need to keep my few readers entertained! After my conversation with my daughter, upon which I mentioned that her Dad had married a high-maintenance individual, I decided... why not “rock the boat”and finish this post.

Along with some of the shenanigans that I do (planned or unplanned) I also have a tendency to “bungle” good times by what I say. I manage to get myself into lots of trouble sometimes; since I am an out-spoken, emotional, very inquisitive, opinionated, and blunt person who has the tendency of speaking without thinking. I also found that negative behavior will get in the way of positive behavior in the eyes of the beholder. I have found it very hard to travel and visit friends and family for extended periods of time. It is exhausting trying to hold your tongue or to think before you speak. When I do this, I feel like I am someone else walking/talking in a stranger’s shoes, therefore, not being myself. If I am around anyone for long periods of time I will eventually end up loosening-up my tongue and become too chatty or irritating. Sometimes it is hard to live in a world that judges you on what "others"considered unacceptable characteristics or behavior. I am my own worst enemy. I would rather sit at home with a good book or my computer staying out of disaster’s way. This is a great way to keep others happy and to keep myself out of trouble. To be honest, at this point in my life, I like who I am and my “forked” tongue is part of who I am. Unfortunately, I have developed the "attitude", accept it, or move on. LOL, this includes my occasional curse words that I like to use.

Have you ever wished you could be judged in the world of a child? I do, for my grand kids see me in an entirely different light. They look at the positive and accept ME. They listen to what you have to say/share. LOL, Sometimes they listen too carefully. Unfortunately, this will not last long. As children grow-up, overhear adults talk, and mature they begin to see you through another’s eye; not necessarily their own, and they become judges too. I have found that people tend to dwell on the negative and rarely see the positive aspects of a person.

I do try not to judge people. It is very hard and without realizing it, I quite often fail; especially, when it comes to defending or protecting those that you love. I too possess judgmental characteristics I find irritating in others. Behaviors that in another person’s eye may be acceptable, yet these behaviors drive me nuts and sometimes to bouts of anger. (Back stabbers, whiners, making excuses for negative behavior, blaming others for their own transgressions, make-believe friendliness, selfishness, pouting, cheating, lying, snobbery, acting like someone you are not, insincerity, hypocrites, acting one way towards a person one day, but in front of others acting differently… are just a few). Sometimes good manners “suck;" especially, when you have to be nice to someone publicly who you really do not particularly like. (Typically, I will ignore or “TRY” to move away from this person; hoping I will stop myself from saying or doing something I might regret.) When I “suck it up" and try to be nice I feel like I am being dishonest with myself; and I do not like this person I have become. Actually, it is a "NO win" situation for if you ignore someone you have bad manner; but if you are nice, when you really do not mean it, you then become a hypocrite. I have learned through the years that I personally rather someone simply not be friendly towards me when they really do not mean it.

My husband is very much a “low maintenance person” and, fortunately/or unfortunately, I am just the opposite. I have discovered it is usually easier for me, as well as others, to accept the “low maintenance” person. They are easier to get along with: they are kinder, low-keyed emotionally, not overly opinionated, less excitable, less temperamental, easy going, more accepting to others feelings, and have less material needs and desires.

I have found that as a “high-maintenance” individual, people expect them to be something that they are not. They expect a person to change their ways to meet the expectations that are acceptable in the eyes of the beholder. I have often wondered if those who do the judging have ever seriously looked at themselves and see their own flaws. With a “high-maintenance” person, people tend not to take the energy to really listen when they express themselves. No one realizes this unless they are "high-maintenance" themselves, how totally frustrating this can be. It is like you have wasted your time and energy. Solution... Quit talking and just write. I have found this to be especially true after I began this blog. People tend to read and find issue “good or bad” on what it is you have written. They can continue to read, or with a click of a mouse on the “X, " flip you off  if they are too pissed to read what you have written; therefore, unknown to the person doing the writing. Taking “issue” means that they have paid attention to the written word. Maybe they will understand the issue or the person a little better after it has been read.

When people are listening or partially listening they tend to be too busy at the time to really pay attention. Most people have an agenda of their own, they are bored, or whatever other excuses that may be present at that time; so it is easier to tune-out and half-hear to what is being said. I am bad about doing this, especially if I am reading.  We all do this to some extent. Maybe that is why I enjoy reading so much. I am listening/reading the written word, agreeing or disagreeing, with what is written within my own comfort level without interruption.

I guarantee I have gotten your attention for a short period of time. Why! You read what was written. Whether you like or comprehend what you have read is not significant. What is significant is whether you understood or cared about what was written.

(Exception: The written word has to be read first before opinions or knowledge can be formulated or evaluated. Look at all one misses by not reading or listening.)

Respectfully submitted, Susan Livingston Thompson

THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY REUNIONS

As I begin this post, I am on the interstate headed to our annual family reunion. (Isn’t technology awesome?) This year (2009) we are headed to Helen/Sautee, Georgia. Supposedly, we will have approximately 40 people at this year’s reunion. I am especially excited because all the immediate James Thompson family will be there. Lacy and Jay, who are expecting their first baby in January, will be coming from Michigan. Paige, Fred, Claire and Wes are headed down from the Charlotte area. It will be a grand homecoming for us all. My sister, Strawn will be joining us again this year. All the Thompson brothers (Charles, Harper and Jim) are going to be there as well. When I joined the Thompson family there were six sisters and one brother (Ellene, Vivian, Frances, Bette, Wilma and John). Today only Wilma and Bette are alive and "kicking". They too will be there.

“We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.”-- Erma Bombeck

I especially will  be excited about seeing Sandra. She was my best friend from high school and the only one, except for my sisters, who was in my wedding. She and her husband Joe live close to Helen. She is headed to our high school reunion in Summerton, SC on Thursday; so I will get to see her a very short period of time. I will be grateful for the time we'll be together for I love her dearly; and if the family voting goes like I am hoping it will, I will see her again next year.

I will never forget my first reunion. I was a brave soul back then and went to this reunion with my fiancé’s family. (WITHOUT my fiancé.) (NOTE: I do realize this was NOT the picture taken in 1968. I am unable to located that particular picture.) I was treated like a queen. Jim’s Dad shocked everyone by stopping several times at roadside stands so I could buy boiled peanuts, fresh plums, and peaches. I was warned that Daddy "T" never stopped on his way to Florida and to do so for me was a complete shock. (After that first trip, Mama "T" would whisper to me, ask Daddy "T" to stop for boiled peanuts.)  So I would smile, ask excitedly, and sure enough he would pull over. I only know of FIVE men in my life that I completely loved. (My husband, my Son, my Dad, Gay Livingston and John Thompson) Daddy Thompson treated me like a lady. He was a quiet spoken man who loved and was devoted to his wife Clara. It was obvious how much he loved his three boys and his sisters. He was always teasing me and challenging me to complete task I would tend to put off or not do. I still miss him. It’s as simple as that!

“Family life is full of major and minor crises -- the ups and downs of health, success and failure in career, marriage, and divorce -- and all kinds of characters. It is tied to places and events and histories. With all of these felt details, life etches itself into memory and personality. It's difficult to imagine anything more nourishing to the soul.”-- Thomas Moore

Again I have gotten on one of those “a long ways around the barn tangents.”  I had never been to a family reunion and did not know what to expect. Other than my four sisters, their children and kids, Cousin Alec, and cousins we do not know in Alabama; we are all that exist on my side of the family.

The 1st reunion was called the Rowe-Barber reunion. The Thompson branch of the reunion got so big that we started having our own yearly reunion. The majority of the family was either from Florida or South Carolina, so we alternated between the two states. Our first Thompson reunion was at the Fish Camp in Florida. These last two years we traveled to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. (Two relatives, Bo Kirkland and John H. Thompson now reside in Tennessee.) You might want to say that we have a "traveling reunion;" and surprisingly, quite a large portion of the family come every year. A lot of us use the family reunion, not only as a time to get reacquainted with each other, but to take a vacation at the same time.

As I sit here drinking from my new coffee cup that Sandra gave me, (acting like the QUEEN) listening to all these relatives throughout this very large house talking and laughing together, some playing cards/Scattergories, smelling good ole fashion home cooking, and children yelling/crying/running up the stairs has given me a warm feeling of belonging. It's certainly a blessing to be a part of this Thompson family.

This year was special for Pat and Charles. They celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary. (Oh, how lucky you two are, WOW!) Claire, our Granddaughter, and Debra B. both celebrated their birthdays, as well.

As I sit here, I wished my visit with Sandra hadn’t been so short and I hadn't been so tired. We did not get to share our usual gossip and secrets. She and Joe live in this impressive old home with an absolutely beautiful view. What really makes me upset is that I did not take any pictures of Sandra or her home. I am the camera bug! To make matters worse, we discussed and looked at pictures; and I still did not bring out the camera. Watch out next year, Sandra, my camera will not stop clicking. She fixed us lunch. The lunch was pasta, one of  her Mom's (Grace) yummy recipes. She also had a pasta salad which was one of her own  recipes.  I really need to call her for the recipe. (I already have Grace's recipe.)  (Surprise, surprise…my husband actually ate pickled beets and liked them.)

Day three, I have noticed that I keep leaning away from my topic. Each of us share a part of ourselves in bringing the reunion together. Our end of the family had Friday’s breakfast. I was also responsible for the scrapbook. (Four Years) Thank goodness next year will be Nicci’s turn. After four years I am running out of ideas; therefore, I look forward to seeing fresh eyes looking at the family from a younger perspective.

Sandra Pricher, our president, was the organizer. She sent out reminders, determined who was coming, kept account of who would be responsible for meals, and ordered t-shirts, etc: She did a great job bringing all of us together before and during the reunion. Considering that she had a major fall, stitches, and a black-eye on the way to the reunion; and she still managed to still keep everything running smoothly is a major accomplishment within itself. I am in awe on how well she managed.

“Feelings of worth can flourish only in an atmosphere where individual differences are appreciated, mistakes are tolerated, communication is open, and rules are flexible -- the kind of atmosphere that is found in a nurturing family.”-- Virginia Satir

To me the whole reunion should really be centered towards the young adults and kids. They will be the future that will keep the Thompson clan together. Awhile ago, I saw and heard a very promising sight. As mention previously, Lacy is pregnant and they were entertaining Lacy with tales of past experiences and advice. Their laughter rocked the house. It brought back memories of my kids when they were young and my students when they got into these in-depth discussions and would laughed at whatever struck their fancy. Just watching and listening to them made me feel young at heart and optimistic of many Thompson reunions in the future. “Family faces are magic mirrors looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future”. -- Gail Lumet Buckley

Well, it has taken me three weeks to get back to this post. I wrote another post and decided it might be a good time to finish this one. The last night before going home we had a big family gathering. It was decided that we would again have the reunion in Helen around the end of July, 2010. (Look out, Sandra, I am headed your way. Maybe the Summerton High School reunion will not be at the same time.) Our reunion will be Thursday –Sunday next year. We  may be leasing two houses, since the reunion has grown so big. Each family unit will be responsible for meals again next year.

The most beautiful/potent/sad part of our reunion was Kay reading to us a “Remembrance of Frances Woodward”, who passed away in January. To me, Frances was a delightful, straight-forward lady who was always interested in family (I called her the family Historian) and what we were doing. You never knew what she would say next. I could easily identify with her and on occasion…so would my shoulder or arm? (I never knew when her pinch was headed my way.) She always made me feel a part of the family. I totally enjoyed every minute I spent with her.  I have been blessed with her presence in my life. Kay did a simply beautiful heart-warming remembrance of Frances. It was evident that she spent a tremendous amount of time writing it and I truly feel Frances would have been proud of how it was written and presented.

“You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them.”-- Desmond Tutu

Family and life continue to evolve. What will next year bring?

In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair. Auguste Napier

ADDENDUM:  We just had our 2011 reunion,  Debbie was an absolutely great President. She was very organized and precise, friendly and a "fun" president.  The scrapbook, organized by Kim Sullivan, was super.  As you can see, it has been two years since I first wrote this post.  I had intended to come back and correct my many error.  I hope I found most of them.  If not, please call and I will attempt to correct all errors in a timely matter.