 |
| Great Grandmother Sarah |
Happy Second Day of the
New Year!
The first day of the new
year was a quiet day for me and the little dogs, split between working on a
publishing project or watching episodes of The Big Bang Theory. Considering I’d
spent most of Saturday sleeping and reading, in recovery mode from my chest
cold, I figured it was the least I could do. I had a very ambitious To Do list
for a three day weekend. Oh, but my laundry is all done. Check.
I did spend time yesterday
recalling the flavor of the first 18 years of
January 1sts in my life – the McKinnon Clan Gathering.
In Scotland, New Year’s
Eve is called Hogmanay. I have no doubt my paternal great-grandparents
celebrated this occasion. They were married in 1893 but the genesis of the day
I remember probably didn’t really get going until the eldest children had their
families. I stand to be – and most
likely will be – corrected (Francie? Russell? Come on!)
 |
| Great Grandfather Lachlan |
 |
| Whitney gathering 1914 (Sarah's family) |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Suffice it to say there’s
photographic proof from the 1940s of the family gatherings of the day.
The clan gathered twice a
year: News Years Day and the third (or was it the fourth?) Sunday in July, down
on the LK Ranch along the Bow River, the Home Place.
 |
| LK Ranch |
Let me state here and now
for all the members of my generation that these events were excruciating! We,
the great-grandchildren, the third cousins, were familiar strangers.
Some of the cousins - those
who lived closer together, whose parents visited each others homes or who
attended the same school or 4-H events – we knew each other a bit better and
tended to stick tight.
Most of us spent time
together only at family events: January 1, the summer picnic and occasions
usually pertinent to the sibling generation like landmark anniversaries,
birthdays ending in 0 or 5, funerals (but seldom weddings, funny enough – I guess
those were more ‘immediate family’ functions).
A few of the moms recognized the rebellion
rising in our little chests as we got older. “But I don’t WANT to go!!! There’s
nothing to DO! And I don’t KNOW them.” I hope that wasn’t just the conversation
in our house. Pretty sure it wasn’t because we began taking games to pass the afternoon while the senior generations –the
siblings (our grandparents) and first cousins – visited, drank endless cups of
coffee and noshed on Cousin Hazel’s goodies. Oh yes, I remember those. One time
the Colwell’s (God, I hope I got that right; I have a memory of Wilda being
involved) brought a projector and we watched slides and home movies of family
past. I’m sure now it was Colwells because Murray always had a camera in his
hand.
The meal was potluck
although I vaguely remember there was some organization involved at the Cousin’s
Meeting. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it a communal meal. Margaret
Stewart always brought tomato aspic no matter what the schedule said – you know,
at the time I found aspic to be quite revolting but long after her demise, I found
myself wishing for a taste of it!
We always sang grace, the
same one the siblings had grown up singing. Most of my generation didn’t know
it – in desperation small papers with the words printed were furtively
distributed for emergency use. Again, interestingly, when I was asked to say
grace at a large formal dinner some 30 years after my last McKinnon Clan meal,
I found myself singing that exact grace.
Some waters run very deep
indeed.
The picnics were much more
relaxed. Sometimes members of the family camped out the night before.
Elaine, do you remember
the time we made a rough tarp ‘tent’ to sleep in and woke up with the entire
inside walls covered in grass slugs?!
There were games.
Sometimes the ‘cool’ older cousins brought guitars – yes, Stuart, you were
cool.
We learned life lessons,
like checking through the gooseberries thoroughly before eating them. Who was
sick besides you, Lorne?
Mostly we learned the
importance of family, of connection and roots.
Isn’t it funny how many
wonderful memories I have of occasions I had to be dragged to against my will?
I’ll tell you an
interesting addendum to this.
The Clan gatherings
eventually died out as the sibling generation all passed and the families
became more dispersed through marriage. Every so often, though, my dad’s
generation – the first cousins – plan a get-together. The last I attended was
at our family farm and was the first (only) my children attended. I enjoyed it.
My children tolerated it. Cousin Lachie was heard to comment, “I figured if I
was dragged to these things against my will for all those years, it was only
fair my kids suffered the same.” (See, I wasn’t the only one.)
We grew up in that
environment, though, and our children did not. A few days later, my daughter
said, “That was so weird. Seeing all those strangers who look just like you and
Grandpa and Uncle Todd, Uncle Scott. Weird.”
No. Wonderful.
