Where Family Begins
I come from a large extended family. We gather once a year in south Georgia where our roots began. Some of us gather again in January at an oyster roast in the panhandle of Florida. We gather at weddings and memorial services. So, it wasn’t at all unusual for me to drive five hours to be with family at the celebration of life for a cousin who had passed. It’s what we do.
This extended family of mine began with Mary and Joseph—not the Mary and Joseph you think of in the upcoming season. Joseph Blanton died a few years before his wife. When Mary died in 1958, their nine children decided at her funeral that they did not want to meet only at weddings or funerals. They decided then and there to meet once a year, the last weekend in July. They began a legacy that lasts to this day.
I grew up knowing “the big nine”, the offspring of Joseph and Mary Blanton. Their spouses were affectionately called the “outlaws” instead of the in-laws. Two of “the big nine” passed in 1984 and the last of the nine siblings passed in 2012.
The Next Generation
Those nine brothers and sisters had twenty-two children between them. One sister had no children, so these twenty-two cousins came from eight. They were born in the twenty-year span from 1935 to 1955.
My mother was one of the older first cousins. I loved hearing her stories about her childhood and the antics of her and her cousins. Sometimes they lived in the same house. Many times, they traveled to visit each other. Observing these first cousins, I could sense the camaraderie and genuine affection between them.
The first of these cousins passed almost thirty years ago. The most recent, just this summer. Eight remain. I am close in age to the youngest of these, even though I’m in the next generation. They are some of my favorite people in the world.
Saying Goodbye
The celebration of life service for my cousin Beth was beautiful. She was born, raised, and lived her life in the same small town on the coast of South Georgia. It truly is a beautiful part of the country. Lifelong friends and family members filled the sanctuary. It was a fitting farewell.
After the service, we met at my cousin’s house for lunch. It was her older sister who passed. It was good to spend a few hours visiting with cousins and sharing conversations we don’t always get to have. The bond between us, tethered to the original “big nine” is strong.
Where You Are In The Family Tree
I made the trip by myself, so I had plenty of time to ponder on the drive home. Growing up, the “big nine” was always there. Then, my mother’s generation, the first cousins, became the backbone of the family. There are less than half of them now. I am eight people away from being in the oldest generation of my family. And I am on the older end of that generation. Yikes!
I’m not ready to be a matriarch. I feel the same on the inside as I did when I was a child running around, and playing in the creek at our family reunion. How did this growing up, and growing old, happen so fast?
A friend shared something her father told her. He said it was a big adjustment, being the top branch of the family tree. There is truth in that statement.
I will miss my cousin Beth. There will be a void at our family reunion, just as there is each time we lose a family member. Our annual shopping trip to the quaint downtown near our reunion won’t be quite the same. But I will do my best to savor each conversation with my remaining cousins and enjoy watching the newest family members take their place in this moving tapestry we call a family. And I’ll try not to think about how close I am to being a matriarch!
Kim Wilbanks 