Farm cousins

I've been under the weather for nearly a week, hence the lack of energy and motivation (and anything eventful in my life) to post. I have decided, though, that I'd like to find a use for the term "above the weather" or "over the weather." I came down with a cold the day after the Memorial Service and Sunday brunch were over with. My brother and sister-in-law and niece left on Thursday and my dad and I headed to Quincy, IL--his hometown--on Friday evening to attend the wedding of my cousin.

Now technically he's my second cousin or first cousin once removed or something like that--the groom's dad and my dad are first cousins. And this particular set of cousins are what I affectionately refer to as my "farm cousins." The cousins in my generation literally still work the family farm, which I happen to think is the coolest thing in the world. I have fond memories of going to the farm. It's where I drove a huge tractor through the fields by myself (and the only time to this day when I drove a vehicle with a clutch). Once when I was about 8 years old, I stayed for a week and picked up the accent. Memories of the farm are full of summertime ball games, animals of all kinds, and getting really dirty. It was always different from what I was used to as a born-and-bred city/suburban girl. But I loved it.

The wedding was in the small Catholic church that my grandma grew up attending. Beforehand, we drove by the old farmhouse where my grandma had been born. We drove through Bentley, IL, a "suburb" of the county seat of Carthage, IL, population 2800, and my grandma showed us where the grocery store had been, and a restaurant. Now they are just the back yards of other houses. Grandma showed us her old schoolhouse--an amazing two-story structure that is remarkably still standing after years of obvious neglect. My grandma has never spoken fondly of her childhood--it was hard growing up on the farm during the Depression, and she had to work hard, was embarrassed to wear her older sister's too-big shoes. So this was a lighter-hearted version of those early days--and an insight into my own roots. Had I been born into the farm cousins rather than to the cousin with the PhD (my dad), my life would have been quite different, though really, of us all, the farm cousins are my favorite--the most sociable and friendly--the ones you know could blend in anywhere, even though they rarely venture far from their unlocked front door.

The wedding was beautiful, and many shared fond memories of mom. The groom actually lost his mom to cancer (his younger sister helped care for her in her last days), so it was very touching to see how they honored her with my own loss being so close. The unity candle is always a hard part for me--who will light my unity candle? One friend advised, "The unity candle is stupid. You don't even have to do it." True. We'll see....there's definitely plenty of time to figure that out. But the pang of mom's absence was closer this weekend. I would have been sitting next to her, sharing silly comments and laughing, linking arms with her in the cold wind...

Tomorrow my dad and I take my Grandma to Arizona where she winters (when it's a verb and not a noun). We'll meet up with my LA roommate there, which will be great. She'll get to meet Uncle Neal and Aunt Mary--my great uncle and aunt who are 93 and 88 and have been married 64 years. What a pair! Apparently, Uncle Neal saved a barn in Bentley, IL from burning to the ground and it stands to this day--we saw it with our own eyes. Can't wait to hear that story.