marklafon (marklafon) wrote,

there and back again, non-Hobbit version

Well we went to a memorial service over Labor Day weekend. It was at Boyd's Chapel near Leckie WV. 6 hours to the hotel in Princeton and then 45 minutes to the church. The boys did not want to go but we made them. The service was more than we had expected with some 39 members of the family being remembered. With my parents deaths their generation, inn both sides, is gone except for a few in-laws. The service went back to my grandparents in the Evans line, included uncles and aunts (both by blood and marriage), cousins, children of cousins and a few children of my cousin's children. And my 2nd cousin Myron preached a sermon of a firm fundamentalist bent, complete with warnings to accept Jesus NOW in case of auto accidents on the way home.

Still, it was nice to see my kinfolk and to sit around a fire that night at cousin Boo's place and dredge up stories. Older cousins remembered hearing what sounded like screaming women in the night only to be told that it was panthers. And a few folks spotted bears on the way to the service. Grandpa Evans was fondly remembered for his "banjer playing and his flat-footing" and his long hair. Grandma Lucy had demonstrated her ownership of the Blood Verse talent to a few clumsy cousins. Uncle (and cousin) Clyde was remembered for his tale-spinning and his (not always legal) political skills. And the fact that they no longer allow whiskey at the polls was lamented.

Margaret was impressed by how... interesting my family is. The boys were bored. We did stop at the spring along Rt. 52 and filled up on cold water, much to the delight of the boys. We also made a side trip to Bramwell and did a driving tour of the mansions there. (About 100 years ago there more than a dozen millionaires with summer homes there. Coal mine owners and timber barons.)

I really hate long trips with my family. Lots of scrabbles and sullen teen angst. Maybe if I just packed them in big plastic totes and put them in the back...

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