“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 882 (Sunday) – family day

Once a year, right around this time, there is a cookout at my Aunt’s house. My cousins attend from near and afar. This year, a couple branches of the family tree had four generations attending ranging from toddler-ish age to early 80s. And we neglected to take any group photos. Oops.

Canopies were planted in the back yard for shaded seating and a screen house harbored the food. Everyone brought a dish of some sort and the assortment, as always, was impressive. This year featured Caprese skewers, veggie skewers, an array of salads, chicken, sausage, and grilled hot dogs and burgers. There were at least four decadent desserts, plus various fresh fruits. 

The weather was hot, but there was a breeze, which made it tolerable. The clouds that gathered during the afternoon helped a lot, too.

Sprinkler fun for the younglings.

It's always fun to catch up with the kinfolk. Some of us see each other only once a year at the summer gathering. The youngest generation was represented by four energetic boys who ran around the yard, seemingly unbothered by the heat. Later, they frolicked in the sprinkler. 

Late in the afternoon there was a quick cloudburst. Most of us were in the yard, chairs circled under a canopy, swapping stories from our younger days. Apparently, Dad and his work with the auxiliary police force was exaggerated a bit by at least one of my aunts in an effort to keep my cousins in line. She spoke of direct links to the highest levels of law enforcement including the FBI and how my cousins could really be in mega-huge trouble if they didn’t knock off whatever they were doing to cause maternal angst. The idea of Dad being connected to the FBI and used as a weapon of discipline by an aunt was quite entertaining to me.

As we sat there swapping stories, suddenly, people who were on the side of the circle facing the street shrieked and jumped from their seats. There was some scrambling and then people ran across the yard towards the street. A cousin yelled, “call 9-1-1!” Luckily, someone still had a phone in hand.

Motorcyclists had gone down the street and one had wiped out right in front of the house. The bike was down on the ground with a dent in the gas tank, and the driver slid across the pavement and got scraped up. At least that is what my cousins said. I missed it all, first because I was sitting facing the wrong way, and then, by not rushing to the road where I would have been no help.

One cousin and her daughter who are both nurses sprang to action. It wasn’t long before police and EMTs arrived. Another cousin is an excellent organizer and leader and is a natural at taking charge of a situation. Things were being handled.

At home, after the rain.

The guy who wiped out said his friend turned into the former service station across from the house and then he missed the turn. Our guess was the rain that had just fallen made the road slick and was likely a contributing factor. Several of us who were about ready to leave ended up hanging around a bit longer. Our cars were parked at the old gas station where the bikers, police, and EMTs were still doing whatever was being done. Once they cleared, we began our departures.

Back at home, the street was wet, evidence that Lowell also got some much-needed rain. It wasn’t the kind of rain that cleans and refreshes. Instead, the humidity was worse than when I left and the air felt like a wet wool blanket. Once again, I was thankful for the functioning central air in the house. It’s been much needed the past couple weeks.