How We Mark Our Lives
We mark the times of our lives by minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, seasons, years and decades. That’s a constant for all of us. Our seasons may be different depending on which hemisphere we live in, but we all experience these measures of time. It’s how we mark our lives.
We also mark the times of our lives by events, some annual and some more sporadic. It may be an annual gathering of friends at a mutually meaningful location, a family reunion or a holiday celebration at the same place each year. These vary from person to person and place to place. For example, there are no big Mardi Gras celebrations in my hometown in Central Florida but my friend Christa, who lives in Louisiana, has a totally different experience. I got a little taste of it last year when she served the most delicious King Cake at a retreat I attended with her.
This weekend, I am at the first of such events for 2024 — an oyster roast at my brother’s house in the panhandle of Florida. It will be the tenth year family and friends have convened at his house on Choctawhatchee Bay on MLK weekend.
The Birth Of A Beloved Tradition
But the annual Oyster Roast did not start here. It began at my cousin’s house in Brunswick, Georgia back in 1985 or 1986. Her father, Edgar, or Big Daddy as he was affectionately known was my grandfather’s youngest brother. He invited his other brother, Lamar, and Lamar’s son, Kemp up to Brunswick for an oyster roast. I wonder if it may have been precipitated by the death of their oldest brother, my grandfather, in 1984. Doesn’t it seem like when there is a death in the family there are renewed efforts to get together more often? Anyway, that first oyster roast was a small gathering of mostly family.
My husband and I attended our first oyster roast in January of 1988. We had been married almost four years. I had suffered a miscarriage the fall before so I was still licking my wounds, healing. I remember because I convinced my husband to spend the night and following day in St. Augustine since we had a day off from work.
Now, if you haven’t been to Brunswick and nearby St. Simons Island and Jekyll Island, you have missed a gem of a place. I absolutely adore this little corner of south Georgia. It practically oozes with history — from a Revolutionary War fort on St. Simons to still remaining oak alleys from the plantation era to the winter “cottages” of the millionaire industrialists from the late 1800’s.
My cousin’s house was the gathering spot for the Oyster Roast for nearly thirty years and it was a marvelous place to gather. It was a ranch-style brick house on a huge corner lot with a covered carport where guests brought platters and bowls laden with delicious food to accompany the oysters. The driveway was lined with sawhorse and plywood tables supplied with oyster shuckers, paper towels, crackers and cocktail sauce. In the backyard, men stood around a large iron cooker. Washed oysters were shoveled on top of the smooth cooktop and covered with a wet burlap sack until they popped open. There was always a sense of excitement when that first shovel load of roasted oysters was spread out on the sawhorse tables. It was like a group of seagulls diving in on some tasty treat.
We experienced all kinds of weather at these oyster roasts. Sometimes the weather was mild and we could enjoy excursions over to the nearby islands. We toured the lighthouse and fort on St. Simons and rode bicycles around Jekyll. Other times, there would be rain or freezing weather. On those colder days, I loved slipping inside to sit in front of the fire and visit with cousins. Looking out the big picture window at the golden marshes to the lighthouse on the tip of St. Simons and the Atlantic Ocean beyond was just dreamy. Sigh. Absolutely one of my favorite mental images.
My kids grew up going to the Oyster Roast each year. As they got older, trips to the playground, lighthouse and fort were replaced with outings to the village for some shopping. I still wish we had bought that red satin designer dress on sale for my daughter’s senior prom.
My parents would go to the Oyster Roast where we would meet up with my brother and his family. My grandmother even went a few times. She couldn’t handle the roasted oysters so someone always made her a pot of oyster stew (I wish I had written down her recipe).
There are so many wonderful memories of the Oyster Roast in Brunswick.
Nothing Stays The Same Forever
Big-Daddy died in 2012 and changes were on the horizon for the Oyster Roast. My cousin’s husband kept it up for two more years but his own failing health simply made it too difficult to continue. But, we knew we couldn’t say goodbye to the Oyster Roast — It had become ingrained into our family traditions, a part of the cycle of our lives. That’s where my brother comes in.
My brother and sister-in-law offered to host the 2015 Oyster Roast at their home in the Florida panhandle. Their home is on the bay, they have a large driveway with plenty of room for tables and a big yard for the roaster. Check, check and check. It’s always a little concerning when you make changes to a long-standing tradition but the change to my brother’s house has stood the test of time, with one small hiccup.
We still gather the same weekend in January and roasted oysters are the centerpiece but they are far from the main attraction. The main attraction is another chance to visit with friends and family and friends who just happen to be family. It’s also a great time and place for me to meet up with my out-of-state offspring.
Why Gathering Is Important
I haven’t made it to the Oyster Roast since January of 2020, right before the world turned upside down. While my brother still hosted the event in 2021 and 2022, I didn’t go. Then last year, I was invited to a retreat that weekend and chose to do that instead. I was talking to my brother afterwards and he shared his disappointment that there were no family members present. He wondered if he should even continue.
Remember earlier in this piece where I mentioned that a death in the family often precipitates the realization that we need to get together more, while we can? I think that’s what happened this year. I think my mom’s death shook us up, made us realize how precious our time together actually is and that we should make the best of each opportunity.
This past Christmas was the first Christmas in my life I have not spent with my brother, my only sibling. If this is going to be our tradition, which is entirely likely as our children set off on their own, marry and have children themselves, I knew that I needed to go to this oyster roast. And like always, I’ll bring the strawberries, we’ll make up a big batch of marshmallow fluff fruit dip and my niece, home from college, will make my grandmother’s pound cake. We’ll laugh and visit and eat too much and then the weekend will be over, just like that. But, like my cousin reminded me, these are the times when we have to make a conscious effort to keep the ties of family and friendship close.
How about you? Do you have annual events with family or friends that are woven into the fabric of your lives? What do you do to keep family and friendship ties close? I’d love to hear.
P.S. If anyone out there has a good recipe for Oyster Stew, I would be much obliged if you would share it.
Kim Wilbanks 