The sign that greeted visitors to the house we’d rented for our family reunion in Palm Springs read, “Welcome to Paradise.” As family members arrived by plane or auto or rental car on the various days of the 9-day holiday, the sign reinforces the notion that we were on vacation. It seems to be inviting us to “Enjoy the pool, soak in the hot tub, and explore hiking, beginning at the nearby trail head for Chino Canyon.” The group is larger this year, two adult grandchildren having brought their special plus ones to the gathering. It’s a first time for niece Heather from Reno and her son, Mathew, on leave from the Navy. They made it for the second half of the week. There was a surprise, very short last-minute visit from Rich’s brother Jay and sister-in-law Betty when they drove up from San Diego for lunch, a short hike, and a catching up conversation on the patio.
Our first Christmas holiday trip to Palm Springs was ten years ago, with many more since then, so there are traditions, old and evolving. We’ve gotten quite good at estimating, on our initial Costco food run, the quantity and type of foundational food essentials we’ll need. When it comes to meals, a rhythm develops with family members volunteering to cook or supervise others using their special recipes for egg casseroles, chili, salads, and cheese grits. Intergenerational dishwashing and cleanup crews led by grandson Ethan keep the place safe and sanitary despite the communal nature of the kitchen and its busy individual Keurig coffeemaker. For restaurants we always revisit Sherman’s, our favorite Jewish Deli, and Pacifica, the high-end seafood restaurant, which this year provided only a bar menu and an outdoor table given our visit was during their New Years’ Eve celebration.
Of course, there were as always, several rounds of golf, somewhat different this year since granddaughter Tori joined what is usually an all-male event. We non-golfers came back ecstatic about a new, but from now on, yearly museum event–a visit to the recently opened Agua Caliente Cultural Center. We had been watching the construction site developing in downtown Palm Springs since July of 2018 when the tribe began the extensive excavation of the site which contains the springs of the sacred waters from which Palm Springs gets its name. Opened just 8 weeks ago, this Smithsonian-connected site tells the story of the native tribes that have lived in the area for what they have now documented is more than 8000 years. No wonder it took so long to build this world class museum and its neighboring building, the Spa at Sec-he, whose name means the sound of boiling water.
Evening meals were often followed by game nights with grandson Will and his partner Nathalie leading us in rounds of Taboo, a game that lists the words you can’t say in describing whatever word you must get your team members to say. Buoyed by how well they did and how much fun we had, I tried out the word game I’d brought called Culture Tags, a game I’d played but never taught or directed. My grandchildren were patient with me as I introduced the game I’d learned from my African American women friends, and before it was over, we doubled over in laughter as we all became experts on Black Twitter. As a part of our New Year’s Eve celebration, we even tried an outdoor nighttime laser golf tournament at Winterfest. It turns out the family that plays together has the most fun ever!
It wasn’t as though trouble didn’t come to paradise, despite the name “Barbie Dream House” which was the name son Kevin gave it. My youngest sister Maureen had died in her sleep the night before we left for the reunion and my brother Miles needed to forgo the trip from New Mexico at the last minute due to being diagnosed with bladder cancer. Son-in-law Bill arrived from Nebraska with cold/flu symptoms and in an abundance of caution, elected to go to a hotel for the first few days. Meanwhile Rich took naps and made several trips to the pharmacy for over-the-counter remedies for his symptoms. The small cluster conversations that happened on the back patio or in the cars when we were on our way to doing other things involved not only the joyful accounts of educational achievements, but the questions raised, and the uncertainties of what careers they will make possible in the future. I loved hearing the advice to 11-year-old Kyra offered by her cousins, and seeing the videos Kyra made, unbeknownst to me, of our trip to the grocery store.
I would say that family reunions are nether paradise nor dream. For this matriarch who remembers vividly those members gone from our sight and the childhood version of most everyone in the room, they are the connection of community and the rewards of a long life, as I see how things have turned out. For these young family members, most of whom have lost loved ones early in their young lives and who have had to deal with big challenges provided by fate and history, I’m in awe of the resilience that is now wired in. Their challenges have now become their gifts–for their own lives going forward, and for those lucky enough to know them and become recipients of what they have to give.
