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Tim my Daddy
By Tim Sullivan
Family Reunion
special
The Sullivan clan gathers for a recent family reunion on Long
Island, New York.
As compelling as
a group of adults all
wearing the same t-shirts
can be, I never thought
of my family hosting a
typical reunion event.
No one has a farm and
we’re not wholesome
enough for organized
picnic games or Shasta,
but for years it seemed
unnecessary. While 10 is
a lot of siblings to corral,
we all make decent efforts
to see each other. It
seemed improbable when
my brother Steve, our
resident family historian,
pointed out that the last
time we were all together
was at my wedding over
nine years ago. We’re not
making t-shirts yet, but it
does seem apropos that
we circle up once a year
and we did in late July.
Marty is the perfect
one to host this shindig at
his home on Long Island
because he and his wife
Justine are equal parts
organized and laid back.
They also have a pool.
Also Justine’s parents live
next door and they graciously offer up
their house for further accommodations.
Also, as Elliott is quick to point out,
Marty’s kids have Xbox.
Our cousins, the Hendersons,
joined us, too, so the day was a blur of
laughs, career updates and what grades
and sports the kids are getting into.
Knowing our time is limited makes for
a somewhat manic catching up. It’s like
speed-reunioning. I kept finding myself
on one side of the yard and looking back
over to the other and thinking wasn’t
I just sitting at that table talking to
Maureen and Eileen a minute ago? An
ongoing cornhole game attracted eager
participants and overeager hecklers.
Food came out in waves and Margo kept
jumping off that diving board over and
over again. Every time I asked Marty
if I could do anything to help he’d say
“we’re all set” and then disappear to fetch
another 40-pound bag of ice.
Impressed by how fit Bill and
Cathleen are looking these days,
my cousin Frank went on to assess
everyone’s fitness levels. When queried,
I dutifully reported that I try to run four
days a week. He runs five. My brother
John narrowly ousted me in the most
colorfully dressed competition. My eldest
brother, Mike, frantically cleaned, as he is
wont to do when visiting family. I found
him scrubbing down the kitchen counters
while everyone else was downstairs on
the patio level.
He had unearthed a box of bakery
treats called Rainbow Cookies (although
calling them cookies is giving them
short shrift). Really they were chocolate-
ensconced miracles, 16 to a box, and
Mike said I just had to try one. Usually,
if it is a family party and Mike is in the
kitchen, Pyrex dishes explode. Usually.
“Stupid plates” might be occasionally
smashed to pieces, but if the only result of
Mike’s kitchen meddling was discovering
these delicious treats that had been
overlooked then, heck, good party!
I ate one of the cookies and my
nephew Emmet had two. I thought we
had better get them downstairs before the
three of us ate the entire box. They went
faster than mom’s famous brownies back
in the day. Turns out this was ill-gotten
booty though. The treats were brought
as a gift by Rob and Suzanne for Marty
and Justine’s 20th wedding anniversary.
They were to be enjoyed after the family
circus left town. I felt terrible about it and
wished we had merely blown up a Pyrex
dish.
Of course, the cookie scenario pretty
much typifies every time I get together
with my family. There is an avalanche of
love and laughs and sweetness and it is
always too short and it invariably finds
a way to break my heart, just a little.
Despite ample assurances from Marty
and Justine that it really was not a big
deal, Mike and I contacted the bakery the
following week and sent a replacement
box of rainbow cookies to trick them into
hosting again next year. I’ll be in charge
of the t-shirts. ESI
Tim Sullivan grew up in a large family
in the Northeast and now lives with his
small family in Oakhurst. He can be
reached at tim@sullivanfinerugs.com.
20 October 2014 | INtOWIl
AtlantalNtownPaper.com
