Every year my mother's family, the Ryan's (my namesake), gets together for a week of laughs, abundant food, and memories. This year was no better than the many that preceded it, yet special in so many ways. The location was Edisto Island a small resort about 60 miles from Charleston, SC. All of us, from our various locales descended on Edisto this year with weary eyes from our travels, yet anxious optimism about the days to come.
I was personally excited to spend a week with my kids, and wife who I see in passing throughout the week and sometimes a glimpse on many a sleepless night at home. Despite the love we have for each other, we lose sight of it in the haze of our "routines", those monotonous patterns that fill our lives. This chance to get away brings on the stress of actually spending time with those that we "love" both our respective "immediate" and extended family. The long road-trip becomes a great opportunity for that conversation that your wife's been meaning to have. The calm balance that has been established amongst siblings over the past few months or days in some cases, is thrust to the brink of tenability. The emotions that sustain our relationships are sometimes given the stage. The chance to be with people that are a part of our lives, even if not in the day to day, is a nice diversion for us despite the possibility of spill over.
The vacation, or family reunion if I may, is a celebration of family. We have certain that we have come to expect, and look forward to. We usually spend a lot of time on the water. Time not spent on the water is comprised of many different activities whether it's local sightseeing or partaking in some putt-putt golf. Each day is typically lazy for the most part, and the nights are much livelier. We gather to talk about the day's activities, and marvel over how fast it all goes by.
As the tradition now stands, each family prepares a dinner on a chosen night. Some of the families seize the opportunity as a chance to best the other families offering of food. Others just want to be acceptable to the Ryan family's advanced palette. I'm of the latter. . . And in regards to palette, I'll never meet the expectation for spicy! So my uncle always brings his buffet of hot-sauces. Each night is special, and something each of us looks forward to. I consider the food to be as important as if a family decided not to come. That's how good we Ryan's cook. This year the highs were the lasagna, banana foster, fruit trifle, the roast beef, and the spaghetti is always a favorite. After dinner we usually sit around, engorged, drinking, and talking the night away.
This year we went to historic Charleston for our sightseeing excursion. It was a hot and humid day. We ducked into many shops and restaurants just to cool down. Once again, to step out into the Charleston air that felt like warm bath water.
Charleston itself is rich in history, and architectural diversity. A stroll down Broad or Market Street is a three dimensional lesson on early American civilization, and design. The town has its commercial and retail districts that liven up the streets day and night transporting us into an almost metropolitan, uptown feel. The style of the citizens was distinct, yet surprising to us since we were miserable in our shorts and flip-flops. The restaurant district is full of great southern delicacy such as fried chick, greens, cornbread, and macaroni and cheese. Not the boxed kind the kids swear to. The kind that melts, as you eat it, and explodes with a variety of cheese flavors. The kind so good "It'll make you slap your mama", a good friend of mine once said, and is well applied here. We ate at a restaurant called Huger's, pronounced like the band Fugees. From outside the building it doesn't look like much, but once you enter you are transported into a cool, dry place that has warmth in both food and character. The walls are painted with pictures of jazz musicians and historical photographs. The wait staff, and bartender were very welcoming and really appreciated the business. Oh yeah, and the food . . . it was perfect. I wish they could come and prepare a dinner for us, I would kindly let them pick any night. Hell, they can have my family's night.
The time in between the eating is pretty lazy, as any vacation should be. We hang by the pool, marinating in the chlorine. The majority of the Ryan family is pale white and the perfect canvas for the sun to paint upon. Many of us come home with different variations of a farmer's tan, or spots on our backs from where we didn't re-apply. It's an unofficial hobby of the Florida natives of the family to point out our ruddy coloring. In some instances, my uncles like to point it out with a playful slap. If I didn't come home each year with a burn in some amorphous shape on my belly, or red shoulder pads I wouldn't feel complete.
Each year our bellies get bigger, and our memories grow richer. Sometimes those memories are of the awkward kind when the family's feud, or quarrel. The beauty of my family is that we accept each other. There are rivalries, and sometimes we bust each other's chops but there is a palpable love. We accept each other-- at least I've always felt that way. What has been really amusing is to see the maturity of the younger generation, as I am sure it was just as entertaining for my aunts and uncles to see me grow up. To me there is a maturation of perspective also, to see the world as an adult now looking down at the college kids really starting to see the value of family for the first time. Not that they didn't before, but to really be aware of the relationships that are there for them even though we are separated by miles and days each year. It's fun to see how much taller my cousins are, and how much more they look like their parents. It's really moving to see them interact with my children who don't really know what this is all about, and how it all started. They don't even know my Granddad who I loved so much, yet didn't really understand his love when he passed. I was too young, and void of real perspective. I miss his song he sang to me each year, "Ryan is a Friend of mine. He ____ _____all the time…" (Fill in the blank with whatever verb and action I am doing). Although, not obvious in expression it was his way of saying how happy he was to see me. I am saddened to know that my son and daughter will never have this moment. One that is precious to me, and vivid in my mind's eye. Here's to hope that they will have something special to them in their lifetime that reminds them of their family.
We have been bestowed this annual gift from my grandparents. My Granddad Okey Ryan and my Grandmother Jo Ann Ryan, they've encouraged the attendance of this event by all the families since its origination. Not all of us have been able to come every year, but to miss it leaves a void in our lives. My Granddad has long been gone from the earthly world. Although I am certain, he is there with us. I can just picture him sitting down, back in his celestial chair, watching the baseball game on mute as he listens to all of us laugh.
It is my desire, that long after many of us pass, our children will continue this reunion as a way of celebrating our family. Taking time to remember the trips tubing down the river, the rivalry on the miniature golf courses, the tummy aches, the lost keys, forgotten bathing suits, hot sauces, flatulence, and Granddad's song. I miss all of you already. Until next year.
