Summer and reunions go together hand in hand.
On every weekend you can find them scattered ‘bout the land.
But reunions are just gatherings and not for everyone,
when you’ve only been there minutes and you want to cut and run.
One year ago, my wife was driving down to get the mail.
And there she found an invite. Changed her face from pink to pale.
The so-called invitation, from extended family,
was sent to all the cousins from the Bandy family tree.
My wife was thinking hard about this gathering of the species.
She never had attended, now the first time in her sixties.
We marked the calendar, and with her younger sister Anna,
made the drive in one long day, way back to Yaak, Montana.
The reunion started early. I’d say about midday.
Some folks were kinda tipsy and the rest were on their way.
Uncle Joe had proudly brought his homemade alcohol.
His wife declared, “It’s strong enough to strip paint off your wall.”
Joe had three full mason jars. He’d laid them out with haste.
And didn’t put the lids back on till all had sipped a taste.
Nasty Uncle Herman flirted with the younger gals.
He was ‘bout to learn his lesson. You could hear their husband’s growls.
He was no lady charmer from the alcohol’s effect.
His comments were embarrassing with total disrespect.
So Uncle Jack stood up and in his military voice
said, “You can leave upright or horizontal. It can be your choice.”
Cathy, Terri’s cousin, practicing all natural,
believed cosmetics dangerous to body and her soul.
She cleaned with soap and water but stopped using armpit spray.
She’d disposed of creams and lotions two weeks ago today.
But her noxious odor mixed with Aunt Jane’s secret potluck dish,
turned crossways to the senses smelling more like rotten fish.
Later on, I noticed out the corner of my eye.
An older gal would stop at tables, talk, then say goodbye.
Yet no one knew the lady then my wife’s voice rang out clear.
“That was our dear Aunt Bertha and she must have shaved her beard!”
Though the gathering of the species had only just begun,
we loaded in a dither, got out packin’ on the run.
