I just have to brag on my family for a bit.
Dad is one of ten kids. As an only child during my formative years, I still can’t quite grasp what that was like. 10 kids. 1 bathroom.
I am incredibly thankful for this family. Since moving to Memphis, I don’t get to see them much anymore. But for the third summer. Last week was family reunion.
Every three years (give or take) since 1988, the family has had a week-ish reunion. It has typically taken place at a small cluster of cabins somewhere in Michigan.
This year, we stayed at Peaceful Acres in Ludington. We had beautiful weather, a private beach on Lake Hamlin, and visits to Lake Michigan just minutes away.
The truly amazing part of our reunions is the turnout. As the height and breadth of the family tree have grown, we continue to have a strong showing of family block out the time and money to make it to this particular week. While much of the family still lives in Michigan, we had family travel from Ohio, South Carolina, Iowa, Tennessee, Missouri, Minnesota, and Arizona.
- Uncle Jerry’s Poetry
- Goulash. Lots of Goulash.
- Nickels, Super Risk, Skip-Bo, Phase 10
- Talent Show
- Tearful Goodbyes
By The Numbers
- Barrett Siblings: 10
- Barrett Siblings at Reunion: 10
- Barretts at Reunion: 65
- Barrett Stockings at Reunion: 76
- All Barretts: 92
- Roasters of Goulash Consumed in One Meal: 3
Grandma made stockings for all of the kids. As the family grew over the years with spouses and grandkids, she continued to churn out stocking after stocking. Now, Aunt Marge has taken over and carried on the tradition.
This year, Aunt Pat had the great idea to include this family tradition in our reunion photo. This is the first time, to my knowledge, that we had collected all of the extended family’s stockings in one place.
Don’t we love the stories and the sentimental journey? I mean, without the memories, there isn’t any adhesive to stick together. So, all this sentiment eventually becomes the sediment of us, settled down in the dirt of our Barrettness. The Lord’s been good to us. Please pass the goulash.
— Uncle Jerry, Excerpt from “Upon Returning to Base Camp”
Summer of 2021 seems too far away… “Is it time yet?”