My side of the family hadn’t had a reunion in twenty-some years. This was the BIG ONE; everyone from near and far was coming to eat, drink, and be merry. If any lopsided relative happened to recognize a family member or distant cousin, all the better.
Uncle Harry and Aunt Helen were to be our house guests for the duration of the festivities. They chose Ed and me to room with as they had never been to a (real) farm before and thought it would be a gas.
Our company arrived off the plane wearing matching plaid shirts, straw hats, and cowboy boots. Aunt Helen sported a huge straw purse to complete her get-up. OK, we could deal with this; no one knew us at the airport. “Welcome to the Dakota Territories!” were Ed’s welcoming words to our guests, and his last until we got home.
The first thing Aunt Helen wanted to see was a baby pig, but two steps into the barn her gag reflex kicked in. Reaching into her big straw bag, she pulled out a bottle of “Safari by Ralph Lauren” perfume and spritzed it in the air around her while walking down the aisle. The barn started smelling like the women’s accessories end of JC Penney’s, and Aunt Helen resembled a priest sprinkling holy water.
After holding, cuddling, and cooing to baby pigs, and fifty-some smiling photos later, we were off to the next barn. I was a little nervous about what Aunt Helen would say when I served up a platter of pork chops for supper.
The cow barn was Uncle Harry’s dream. “I’ve always wanted to milk a cow,” he stated as we walked in with Aunt Helen and her fragrance following. I tried to explain to Uncle Harry that we didn’t milk cows here; we just fed our steers and hauled them to market. “What kind of cows steer things?” he asked, and I gave Ed the “It’s your turn to explain” look. Ohh boy, this was going to be a long day!
As we entered the horse barn, a group of kittens gathered around Aunt Helen looking for table scraps, and she was immediately in seventh heaven while easing her grip on the Ralph Lauren bottle. Each kitten received a proper name, brushing, and a pedicure. I wasn’t sure and didn’t get a head count, but I think she stuffed a couple of kittens in her bag. Uncle Harry wanted to ride a horse. As I saddled up trusty Old Grey, he reached for Aunt Helen’s big straw purse for a snack.
“Have you ridden a horse before, Uncle Harry?”
“Oh no, but I’ve seen plenty of westerns on TV; I’ll be just fine.”
“OK, you get on and I’ll lead you around for a bit till you get the hang of it.”
It took a while but Uncle Harry made it up on top of the horse and then just slowly kept going over and off the other side, splattering to the ground. Sitting up, he yelled to Aunt Helen, “HELEN, I’ve been bucked off! Isn’t it wonderful?” The old horse, having never taken a step, looked around at Harry and yawned. I got the giggles and had to excuse myself for a while to re-group while Ed just stood there and swallowed his snoose.
Visiting the chickens was hopeless. Aunt Helen assigned each hen a title along with a surname while Uncle Harry made the mistake of trying to pet a rooster. Aunt Helen used her perfume spray like a mad woman, fending off the rooster in no time at all.
A tractor ride was the next adventure. Ed took our guests down the road a ways and, over the engine noise, I could hear Aunt Helen singing the “Green Acres” lyrics. Uncle Harry chimed in with “Country Highway,” and I received the silent treatment from Ed the rest of the night.
Before supper, I asked our company if they would trot out to the garden and pick some carrots and lettuce for a nice salad. Busy in the kitchen with my back to them as they went out the door, I heard the dog barking hysterically. In the garden were my two guests, dressed from head to toe in mosquito netting and hip waders, using spades to dig up the lettuce! Easy, Emily, we can plant more.
The reunion went off without a hitch, and my favorite aunt and uncle returned to California a few days later. Downtown L.A. will never be the same…