My dad’s mother came from a family of eleven children, one of whom was named Howard. Howard was the one responsible for organizing the first reunion, one he never lived to see.
If he only knew what he’d gotten us into. Thirty years later, eleven siblings are now the first of four generations on a collision course with each other every five years.
This year was different; every prior event took place at the same backwoods ski resort that happened to take in boarders in the summer. The owner gave us a good rate, but the place definitely had its limitations. There were bats in the halls and we ate in shifts in the cramped chalet. We showed up and made it up as we went along. It was pretty clear that the staff did the same. Staffing hours were a mystery, but when you’d find someone – they’d be flexible. We’d decide to have a music program; the owner would open up his machine shed and set up some chairs. It was primitive, but folksy.
This year we booked a real resort, a Christian retreat, no less. From the beginning, it was clear this would be a different experience. Dial 1-800 for Reservations, and credit card up front, thank you very much. Before we were paying rates you’d see at Motel 6 – now we were shelling out rates you’d see at the Hilton.
To be fair - this place had it all. There was an ultra-modern kid’s playground, an amphitheater, dining hall, and wi-fi internet café. The desk was staffed 24/7 and there was free internet access in the lobby. It had gated security and parking permits. The lawns were manicured and peppered with stone monuments with bible verses etched onto them.
Every item of significance carried a plaque telling you who had donated it and how devoted either they or their loved ones were.
Needless, to say – this was not my usual environment.
But then, the family reunions have always served to emphasize the differences between me and the family. They are largely conservative and devout, I am not. Skits and talent shows are showcases for their talent, for me- they are something that shunts me politely off to the side. Most of my extended family believes that a Christian retreat is ideal for a family gathering, while such a venue wouldn’t even have occurred to me.
Never mind that, though – it was booked, and we went.
There are other posts to be had in the past weekend’s experience (Skit night, the memorials, my FINALLY getting to hear my great uncle's stories from the war, my great aunt and uncle –for the billionth time- breaking into a splendid moment to remind everyone that they have suffered more than anyone else, or how I captained a cardboard boat straight into oblivion) but
-all in all it was an admirable place staffed by admirable people. I would say I was probably keyed up to dislike this gathering since dad died. He’d been part of the organizing committee of the past two reunions and his practical nature and blunt mannerisms had butted heads far too often with the flightier portions of the family. It had turned a thankless job into something worse – so much so that dad had opted to stay out of this one, and it had been taken over by people I was prepared to savage with my criticisms.
Before we went, I had started with “It costs so much that people won’t go.” This was true – there were a not insignificant number of defections, but there was still a very healthy presence this year.
I had expected a host of organizational snafus. A sizeable portion of my family couldn’t organize a trip to the grocery store – but while there were the traditional slow starts to events – and some notable examples of poor attention to detail – for the most part – things happened.
I am sure a lot of the success stems from the fact that you get what you pay for. A portion of the premium we had paid to stay at this place bought competent people who were experienced at handling events. A booked room had everything it needed to host an event. Baked goods did not go missing, coffee appeared at the correct times, and events did not change locations, because you were held to whatever booking you made.
The resort has statues of playing children and a preserved railroad chapel used in days long gone to spread the word to the faithful. Religion was not merely present; it was omnipresent.
And while I have not come to some epiphany of faith, or leapt into the ranks of the converted – I did make a kind of peace with the place.
Whatever else the place was, it was staffed and funded by people who are sincere. All of the things that drive me crazy about organized religion are surely there in some measure – but there was a good amount of just good, honest, decent people trying to make something good in the world. Something that would last. This place was it for them. While we were there, there were other groups cycling through from
I am sure some of those organizations will espouse social beliefs that would make me scream – but I’m talking about the impulse to get away and work on improving yourself as a person. There is something undeniably good about that, with or without religion. It is easy to get all cynical about religion and its role in the world. But I think it is important to remember that for every Bob Jones zealot using religion as a hammer, there are surely others - mild-mannered and giving - who use religion as a remedy for what the world does to us all. It would be pretty damn petty to hold a grudge against such people.
So,
I didn’t find God, but I found Godly people – and that was good.
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