Living Next Door To The Family Tree
Your whole life, you know your family. Then one day, you’re not so sure.
Attached above is a photo from a family reunion that I attended last Sunday. This is the third reunion I have attended (two before the pandemic, and now this one). Each time the event comes up, I'm hesitant to go because I don't know that many people.
"Wait a minute, Al, how do you not know many people at a family reunion?"
Well, glad you asked.
As a child in Brooklyn, there was a family that lived on our block. I knew their names, it peppered our family history when stories where told, but they were just our neighbors.
Turns out, I was wrong.
It wasn't until a handful of years ago, at the first reunion, did I find out that my great-(great-great?)-grandmother was a member of their family. There were scrolls of papers on a picnic table, with brackets that showed the connections of each family member, going back for years.
There she was, in those brackets, my great-(great-great?) grandfather’s name with their great (great-great?)-grandmother’s name.
That’s when it all started, probably a century ago, and I just found out.
Here’s the thing, I was about eight-years-old when my family moved from Brooklyn to New Jersey. The likelihood that I would clearly remember people from my old neighborhood in Bensohurst were slim to none.
Of course, I knew the stories, but actual faces? No.
Until now.
This reunion was held in a park, and we were instructed to go to Section B. Easy enough. Surrounded by picnic tables filled with people I don’t really know, we were good once we (Aunt Gloria, sister Diane, and myself) saw a few familiar faces, and made a beeline for that group.
We settled at a table, and what a table it was.
You could not imagine the history that occupied the few feet of red-painted wood around which we sat.
Marie, the Matriarch (of their family), with over ninety years of stored memories, easily dispensed over the course of hours.
Aunt Gloria, the Matriarch (of our family), who routinely told stories of my mother as a child, which was always a revelation.
My sister, Diane (future Matriarch of our family) who will relay, one day, tall tales and recipes to anyone who will ask.
You may have noticed, I say ‘their family’ and ‘our family’ but in truth (a truth I only most recently learned) it is actually ‘our family’.
It was a very interesting day.
Also at our table, a nice couple with their daughter – our new base camp was complete.
The dad of the couple told us how his grandfather, Dominic, was one of the five original brothers of their family. Being Italian, I made reference to the Organized Crime’s Five Families. It was my one and only organized crime joke of the day (I think, not really sure).
Then went on to explain that his grandfather, Dominic, had a son (his father) Dominic, and then there was him (Dominic).
Thought, such an old-school family tradition that doesn’t happen anymore, until I realized the following:
My father, Joe, had a son Joe (my brother) who had a son, Joe (my nephew), who just had a son Joe (my grand-nephew? Grand? Great? I don’t know how this whole thing works).
Game. Set. Match.
(Side note: My name Alfred dies with me)
Between stories, people would come up to Marie (Matriarch) with their kids, grand-kids and any other offshoot of the clan to pay homage.
At one point, Marie called me to her side and asked me to find Paulie, she needed to talk to him.
Find Paulie? In this crowd? If I threw a rock, I would hit fifteen people with the name Paulie.
Miraculously, I found the Paulie she wanted to talk to, and directed him to her side.
This is how the rest of our time passed – people with the name of Paulie, Peter, Maria, Marie, Johnny, Jimmy, Michael weaved in-and-out of our conversations all day.
They would hug and kiss and tell Marie (Matriarch) about what was going on in their lives.
How can I say this? The amount of love and affection between everyone was absolutely infectious.
Which led me to this:
Next time, when a reunion is announced, I will not hesitate. I will look forward to spending more time with…
...my family.
