When I first floated the idea of a family reunion in 2020, it was just that: an idea. One that received an enthusiastic response until Covid crashed the party. Fast-forward three years, and it was back on again, albeit in Wisconsin instead of South Dakota.
Once everyone agreed to the get-together, I was all Great! Followed in short order by, Now what…?
I was still in “now what?” mode when our guests arrived early Saturday afternoon. Like a proverbial dog chasing after a proverbial car, I had no idea what to do once I caught it, having never organized an event like this before.
Fortunately, everything just kind of happened, and it happened very well. We “visited,” a term I learned when I first started dating Tara. We’d taken a trip to Nevada to see her family. On the way there, I asked her what we were planning on doing.
“Visiting,” my wife replied.
“Well, I get that,” I said. “But what’s the plan?”
“To visit” was her non-answer.
Thanks for nothin’, babe.
That trip taught me you don’t need to have an itinerary mapped out to the second, so I was hoping for the same thing during the reunion. Sure enough, there was a lot of catching up and reminiscing. The drinks flowed (I even turned two of our guests on to the wonders of the brandy old fashioned). We grilled way too much food and listened to jazz music as the sun set on a perfect, sunny, 74º day.
The highlight for me was the bags (corn hole) tournament. Everyone took part, which was great. Better still, I beat my dad pretty convincingly. You have to understand, he is way better than me, and usually wins. If the Vegas oddsmakers were taking bets, I’d have been an eight-point underdog. But somehow I reached deep, drawing upon an inner strength I had no idea I possessed, and willed myself, Rudy-like, to a David vs. Goliath underdog victory. It was my Miracle on Ice moment, if you will.
About the only downside to the day? The dozens of flies that found their way into our house thanks to doors that were constantly opening and closing. I’ve built up my biceps swatting them for the past two days. Popeye ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Sunday, there was an actual itinerary. I led everyone all the way to the shore of Lake Michigan and then downtown Milwaukee, where we ate lunch at a German restaurant, seated at Paul Newman’s table; strolled the riverwalk, stopping to check out the Bronze Fonz; and made the obligatory cheese shop pit stop. I’m hardly an expert at navigating the big city, but you’d never know it as I got us all from Point A to Points B, C, and D without a hitch.
Everyone was pretty impressed with Milwaukee. My parents said they were expecting it to be grittier. I get that. The first time Tara and I visited, we were pleasantly surprised, too. It’s a pretty cool city and I feel we’ve barely scratched the surface yet.
We woke up to rain this morning, so I really have to applaud Mother Nature for cooperating. The weekend was perfect weather-wise (and every-wise, too). I’ve got one more day off before heading back to work, and judging by all the project tickets that have been rolling in, I’ll have to put my nose to the grindstone. My parents leave Thursday morning, and everyone else will be gone by Saturday morning.
I’m sure we’ve got some more visiting to do before then.
Mark My Words 
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