Kennedy meadows....
A few years ago we started as a family making an earnest effort to get together more as an organized event. It used to be that the only time we were all together at the same time was a death or a wedding. And in our family death and weddings aren't quite the same as other families. Let's just start with death, my grandpa tommy started this family tradition of burying our own dead which believe it or not is perfectly legal in Oregon. The way I have heard the story is that my grandpa had watched a 60 minutes episode in which bad things were reported to happen in morgues. He apparently found out that legally in Oregon you can avoid going to the mortuary at all. So instead after my grandfather passed away the family called the paramedics who came and pronounced him truly dead. At that time, my brother and dad cleaned him up, a rather unfortunate chore and dressed him in his favorite jogging suit. They then gently placed him in the coffin which was sitting in the living room. They all sat and cried staring at his sad dead body propped up in the coffin. Then grandpa had the last word by farting enormously, then came some great belches. No one was prepared that a dead body releases gasses. They all laughed historically, the night swayed back and forth between tears and laughter. In the morning it was clear the time had come to close the coffin up and say some last good byes. So after some tears were shed and final words were said everyone watched sadly as aunt Beverly pushed the lid of the coffin solemnly over grandpa . Then is where a glitch in grandpas romantic notion of his family burying him happened, he had stiffened up over the night like a paper mâché mannequin so when they went to push him down into the coffin it just wasn't panning out as they had all planned. They all looked at each other with a touch of horror . ." Push " mom yelled as she quickly shoved grandpas shoulders down into the coffin , quickly aunty shoved the lid closed. Their eyes all turned to saucers as the lid closed and they heard a loud thump on the other side of the closed coffin lid.. they carried the coffin to the back of my brothers chevy truck. They sat around as the grave digger did his digging, eating Dairy Queen hamburgers all hungry and tired from a night filled of sorrow littered with laughter.
When grandma felt herself approaching the kicking of the bucket she wanted my dad to build the coffin. He kindly refused. My mom volunteered to make an art project out of it, together they bought a cardboard coffin and mom decopauged the crap out of. In the end it was a colorful gaudy work of art. Grandma lived to see the finish product and loved it. She was laid to rest in it in the same fashion as grandpa with all the family tending to the final details.
When my precious daddy passed away, we as a family carried on the same family tradition. It's to sad and painful to recount that day, but I'll only say I'm glad we drew the line when mama said she really wanted dad stuffed like taxedermi style. Oh lord , please can we just be a little normal?
So let's just say our family can be a little quirky. But we sure have a great time together. There is five of us kids and between all the spouses and grand kids we make quit a clan. We started incorporating family type reunions a few years ago. Usually they consist of eating , eating, drinking, and some more eating. I'm not complaining of course but this time we decided to have a smaller gathering in the mountains at a place called Kennedy meadows. It's a rustic cabin retreat high in the sierra mountains. We didn't have all the family together this time but there was still a large crew. The rustic cabins were nestled between towering granite mountain walls , with a beautiful creek that flowed with clear cold fresh water surrounded by tall pines. The old resort and lodge were the remnant of an old hunting lodge from the 1800s . There was a charming old cowboy saloon where the bartender was a 90 year old man who served us our whiskey and cokes with a dry but friendly fashion. All around the old saloon hung smiling dead stuffed deer heads and old photos of cowboys and cowgirls who were legends among this place. It felt like stepping back in time, it was the perfect family retreat. We were all pleasantly surprised when mom who is absolutely terrified of horses decided to mount up and go for the one hour ride on the first day. We all stared in disbelief As she climbed on the mannerly horse named glue stick. I think she was more interested in the cowboys than the horses but hey whatever it takes. My nephew Andrew almost suffered a panic attack when they told him his horses name was thunder. " why can't I have one named dopey, or mopey or lazy or one like that?! Why do I get the horse named THUNDER?" As he climbed on thunder Dave asked " did you wear brown boxers Andrew?" " they are now " he replied. As we waited in line for every one to finish mounting up my sisters horse took a step forward out of boredom. " OH GOD ! Missy why is it moving? ". I laughter hysterically from the beginning to the end. Andrew my nephew has a humor that puts me in stitches and I laughed the entire trip. Before long everyone was more relaxed and enjoying the beauty of the journey. Even Tristan rode, I thought it was more likely that I'd be attacked by a Sasquatch on this trip than it would be possible that my insolent seventeen year old son would get on a horse. He despises them just to spite me, which I am really hoping he'll grow out of one day. He rode a horse named rooster. His horse Kept stopping to eat which was strictly forbidden then would trot off to catch up which was also vehemently forbidden. Rooster kept breaking the rules. Tristan liked rooster because of this. He said this is the horse version of me. Every time rooster would sneak food then trot off Tristan would giggle and pat him on the neck. By the end of the hour trip Tristan said " I'll go on the whole day ride tomorrow but only of I can ride rooster" I about fell off my horse.
This was a magical day for me, surrounded by my family who I love so much. For a change we were doing something besides eating or drinking and we just happened to be doing what I love the very most, riding on horseback through the mountains with dust and flies and the most magnificent Beauty all around us. We crossed creeks, rode through valleys ,crested mountain peeks , spied cattle and old cabin. We crossed bridges over granite ravines with dashing waterfalls.I couldn't help but think if one of the horses plunged off the cliff and one of us died, at least our family would know what to do. Maybe we would just bury him or her right there on the mountain. Our final destination on the all day ride was a beautiful mountain lake high in the mountain range, no tourists, just a remote peace piece of heaven on earth . We sat around doing what we do best, eating and drinking and laughing. I was never more proud to be a Bacon than on that day.
So despite the quirkiness and obvious oddities of my family I love them dearly and am so appreciative and happy we find time in out busy worlds for each other.
