A Mini Family Reunion…

Johnny-on-the-Spot … by John Foster …

Recently, my niece had a “celebration” for her son after his graduation and prior to his leaving for the U.S. Army.

Hunter is a nice, young man and I gave him some sage advice because that’s what old “great uncles” do.

I told him he’ll have at least one moment during basic training when he’ll ask himself, “Why in the hell did I decide to do this?”

But then I told him it will pass and he’ll be made a better person for the experience he’s embarking on.

It was at this event that I caught up with my 3 younger sisters.

Charlene (Chuckie) is the oldest while Jeanne is in the middle and Jerry (Pretty Baby-her own nickname) is the youngest.

Chuckie is the only one still residing in Ohio where we were all born.

Jeanne has landed in the Raleigh-Durham area of North Carolina and Jerry resides on Pelee Island, the southern-most port of entry into Canada, floating in Lake Erie.

I’ve been a Hoosier for the past 29 years but I’m still a “Buckeye” at heart.

Whenever the 4 of us get together, we always remember some of the goofy things we did or experienced.

The infamous “stops” at the Lone Elm Inn in northern Ohio always seems to come up.

It was a halfway spot for the trip to our boat in Huron from our home in Mansfield, OH.

Mom and Dad would get a table and we 4 kids would find a booth where we’d get soft drinks.

I seem to remember a root beer.

We’d sip and gab and this one time, we noted Jerry chewing on a big purple glob of something.

A whiff revealed it was grape gum and when someone asked, “Where did you get that? she mumbled, “Here!” and pointed to the underside of the restaurant table.

BARF!

Even as kids we were grossed out.

Jerry was also the one who climbed into the cupboard above the broom closet and Mom panicked when she couldn’t find her.

When we found her up there, she was eating those Hartz colored dog yummies.

When Mom asked, “Why are you eating those?”, Jerry replied, “Mom, I yike ’em.”

I came to find out she liked the yellow ones best.

Chuckie was fond of chocolate so Mom shouldn’t have been surprised to find her sitting in the bathroom linen closet eating a box of Ex-Lax.

Mom frantically dialed our-long time family physician, Dr. Francis Merriweather Wadsworth who said, “Oh Hazel, Charlene will be fine! She’s just going to be a busy little girl for a few days.”

Jeanne liked scarves and pop beads and was sometimes nicknamed “Tallulah” after the film star of the 40’s and 50’s.

I remember one time going to the beach at our Lake Erie vacation spot and the waves were moving a portion of the boat ramp.

It sounded like thunder and a giddy Jeanne said, “Oh good, since a storm is coming , we can go back to the cottage!”

Party pooper!

My sisters reminded me of how we’d gather in the basement to watch the Friday night horror flicks and I would excuse myself and go to bed.

But, I would always turn off all the lights so they had to navigate the trip upstairs in total darkness after being spooked by the “Ghoulardi” movies.

We laughed about the time, my now-bride but then-girlfriend, Geneva, attempted to teach us how to play Euchre.

The mention of “Trump” brought faux trumpet toots from us, prompting my very upset lady to stomp off to the bedroom.

The bedroom was off the kitchen area and was secreted by a curtain, which my wife “slammed” in frustration.

You gotta be ticked to slam a curtain!

We reminisced about the “flying banana” at the dinner table and the corny Easter and Christmas photos, especially the Easter bonnets and Christmas cowboy boots.

I remember when Mom would buy a carton of Neapolitan ice cream.

The chocolate and vanilla would be gone within hours but the strawberry island in the middle would be hairy with white frost until Mom or Dad tossed it.

These days, Neav and I sorta do the same thing with the “muffin packages”.

I love the chocolate, she’s big into the blueberry ones but the banana muffins often get pushed to the deep, dark recesses of the food pantry, slowly turning into plastic-covered rocks.

My sisters and I gabbed and laughed, perhaps fueled by the beers we all like to guzzle.

It was only about 4 hours that we had together this time and I’m glad it happened.

My bride took a picture of the 4 of us and I remarked, “277 years of genetics”.

That’s why I was happy to see my 3 baby sisters all above-ground, upright and breathing.

The next time?

Who knows.