The weirdest/best Sunday ever

Unfortunately my Grandmother's brother passed away shortly after Christmas. Luckily she was with him the day before and got to spend some time with him before his passing. It was not unexpected and I understand it was peaceful.

Anyway, today was Great Uncle James funeral and although I hadn't seen him since I was 6, the family was out in full force to support Mema and the rest of the family. It turned out to be an interesting day. From the moment we arrived at the funeral home we were regaled with new family gossip. The biggest information was that my family is HICK. And it was awesome. I was regaled of stories of how my great grandfather ran a moonshine operation and people would come in the middle of the night and flash their lights once for a quart or twice for 2 quarts. My aunts and uncles were told that they were making sorghum syrup and of course people came late in the night to ensure that the "syrup" was fresh for their biscuits and grits the following morning.

How Uncle James and Uncle Sid took Mike to Hartwell Lake when he was in 3rd grade and told him they were near the mexican border. When people started rope swinging into the lake, they told them they were trying to cross into America. For hours he yelled swim harder! Meet me half way I will help! Needless to say upon going back to school and telling his teacher he tried to help people cross the rio grande, his mom got a call to extol her dedication to helping people. Uncle Sid cracked up and said "He shouldn't have been dumb enough to fall for it. It was an hours drive". But then again this is the kid who was promised a quarter if he would run to the cow fence put his tongue on it and run back. Too bad the fence was electric.

It has been well established that I have an excellent job with a stable paycheck but alas no marriage prospects (remember this is deep south). I have (apparently) re-met a couple of cousins, aunts, uncles and cousins three time removed with a cherry on top. I have heard awkward speeches, hilarious jokes, inappropriate announcements, and sadly, I was the one who heard the joke and cracked up at the back of the viewing (Thanks Whit for that one).

On the way home from the funeral (after a quick pit stop at the outlet malls with some cousins) I re-learned how each of the Kelly's and their progeny had come to an end. We debated on the impact of life decisions and how it affects our family.

Now I sit at Mema's table mentioned last year and I am watching Whit and her Boyfriend Robby take on the Kenzie and Jill in Spades. The loser has and will continue to demand rematches. I am listening to Jan and Mom and Kristen ask Mema and Deda for details from their childhood. Not to mention Mema pouring ice water on Deda's head when he won't tell her if he wrote the poem that broke up her and her old boyfiend (Roses are Red, Violets are true, but I don't know about you) and disagreed over who proposed to whom. I love hearing about stories new and told so often they are remembered and fit like an old pair of well worn jeans. My grandfather is showing love to each grandchild calling us each by our special nicknames given to us by him: Farmer Girl, Princess, Angel, and Babydoll.

This vacation is flying by as it did last year and I will be sad to leave the family that grows with each new year. The time that we spend here is treasured and the history that is behind such simple times such as cards and rotelli with frito chips moves us all forward with laughter, joy, tears, and love.

This year has truly been, in the words of Deda, a walk in high cotton.

Happy New Year.

Jessie

Summer Vacations: Kiawah and Grandpop

When I was younger a lot of our friends and family use to joke about the "summer sabbatical" that the Bakers would take come the end of swimming season. Usually the Saturday after the last meet we would strap on the trusty turtle car top carrier, load up the car with luggage, swim gear, beach house activities, and attach our bicycles and we were off on our month long trip to visit family.

Our visits consisted of a week at St Augustine beach in FL with my mom's family, a week in the smokey mountains, and a week at my grandparents house and then another week or two at Kiawah Island with my dad's side of the family. My grandparents owned a time share house walking (or biking) distance to the beach and we would rent another house from their friends down the street. Our beach time was filled with turtle hunts (trying to find baby turtle nests hatching at 6 AM not killing them), crabbing at the dock, and reading on the beach. And maybe a severe burn or two, although those were mainly mine. Our lunches were rolled down in coolers and we ate dinner in any dinning chair we could find back at the house. There was a pool fairly close and usually our parents would insist on giving us a week of tennis camp regardless of the fact that the rest of the 51 weeks in the year we never even looked at a racket. (Kristen was the shining exception to this rule). One summer I even managed to get surfing lessons instead and, before being promptly stung horribly by a jellyfish, managed to stand up on my ridiculously long foam board.

Relaxing on the dock

Everyone needs the Khaki and White T Look

Some of the best memories that I have of Kiawah are on our yearly boating trips. Grandpop was never a big fan of the beach (he loved those golf courses though) so every year he would take us out in a boat that we would rent for the day. Grandpop was always the captain. I remember him being a very big man with a very big presence but as he got older his gait was a little less steady. That gait changed when he was on the boat. As soon as he set foot on that boat, he had sea legs like no one else. All 6 of us grandkids managed to flounder our way onto a seat somewhere but that Big 6' 3" man would swing one leg over and start barking orders. (But to be fair to him he always barked orders.)

We would cruise around the marshes of Kiawah and St Johns Island. Fishing, crabiing, swimming, and freaking out about what touched our leg in the murkey water. Although usually it was just some scared fish and a slightly more threatening crab, one time my dad caught a shark. A small one maybe a foot long, but that was enough to convince me that I needed to stay dry and retain all 10 of my toes.Lunches were fought over and debated as to whom actually wanted the ham and mustard sandwich instead of the refreshing PB&J. We found islands to explore and felt the wind go through our hair as Grandpop manned the wheel.

Some of the best times were when we would each get a chance to be captain. Grandpop would call us up to stand in front of the captain's char and would let us steer. His arms would wrap around us to lay one hand on the throttle and the other on the console on the other side. Many times his time worn hands would cover ours to safely navigate canals or to ensure that we didn't capsize. This day out was his day with family. He didn't enjoy the beach like we did so he gave us a day with him. A day to explore like we couldn't on land. To say, even though he didn't frequently say them out loud, that he loved us.

It has been a while since I have been to Kiawah. I try to make it there every other year but sometimes work prevents me. This year I get to go back the week of June 10th. I can't wait to be there, to take a break from work, to relax in the sun, to read something other than CPA exam material, and to enjoy the beach. Maybe this year we can take a boat out and remember the man who made one day in a sea of days seem special every year.

When I was 16 I got his old car. He was telling me drive
safe and to not get into an accident cause then he would kill
me himself. One of the few times I heard him say "I love you " first.

View from the Dock at Sunset