You Gotta Love Family

On Sunday, I accompanied my dad to the 50th Wedding Anniversary Party of my Uncle Benton and Aunt Irene. My (great) Uncle Benton is the brother of my late Grandpa Al (my dad’s father). Uncle Benton and Aunt Irene got married on June 6, 1954, which also was the 10th anniversary of D-Day.

The party was a fairly lavish affair at the Holiday Inn Select near Midway Airport. There were more than 100 people there and it featured a DJ, a photographer, a videographer, and an open bar. Dinner was also provided.

My dad and I got there not too long after the party was supposed to have started. People mingled at got drinks before the festivities really started. The close family (which included my dad and I) was split into male-female pairs. All the men got boutonnieres to put on and the women wore corsages. Each of the men had to escort a woman into the ballroom. My dad escorted my Aunt Helen while I escorted my cousin Vivian. After we all got in and sat down, the couple of the moment walked in, with all of us standing up and applauding.

There was a short program of events for the party. An older woman sang the Lord’s Prayer and then a few people got up to pay their tributes to Benton and Irene. After that, dinner was served. A cream-type soup (I want to say Cream of Broccoli) was served first. We then had a salad that I personally thought was nasty. The salad consisted of an onion ring, a couple of cherry tomatoes, and a bunch of unidentifiable greens. There was no lettuce to be found. I took a couple of bites, but stopped because the bitterness was too much, despite the amount of dressing I put on it. Next came the ceremonial cutting of the cake. Just like at a wedding reception, Uncle Benton and Aunt Irene cut a piece of a good-sized wedding cake. I couldn’t see any of what they did because the table we were sitting at (the same table Benton an Irene sat at) was behind the wedding cake display.

Before the main course was served, an old friend of Benton’s got up and proposed a toast to the couple. My dad was supposed to give this toast initially, but my Uncle Benton asked his friend to do so when we didn’t show up exactly on time. Also, it didn’t help that we didn’t have a program to know when the toast was coming up. The main course was served after that. There were three slices of beef (surprisingly large slices too) and a chicken breast, with twice-baked potatoes, and green beans almondine. Everything was actually pretty good, but I couldn’t finish all that meat.

As everyone was finishing up the main course, Uncle Benton and Aunt Irene got up and thanked everyone for coming. They then asked everyone to go outside on the terrace for another toast. That toast didn’t exactly happen after they said that. Instead, everyone spread out, mingled, and went to the bar.

I didn’t really want to go to this party. I figured (and was correct) that there would be very few people near my age there at all. My dad initially asked my mom to go, but she had her reasons for not going. In the end, though, I have to say that it wasn’t that bad. The food was pretty good (except for that cheap ass salad) and I got to meet several relatives I had never met before.

Normally, the only side of my dad’s family I get the chance to see is my grandmother’s side. The only people on my grandpa’s side I got to see with anything resembling regularity were my Uncle Benton and Aunt Irene. It was quite a trip to meet a whole side of my dad’s family that I didn’t really know. It was especially a treat for my dad, because he’s very close to much of them. My dad grew up an only child (even though he later found out he had two older half-brothers), so his “siblings” were his many cousins and friends he had growing up. I haven’t seen him that happy in a while, and it was great especially with the various stresses of our household.

One thing I learned while at this party is nobody can drink like an old-school drinker. Most of my various relatives (and friends of my aunt and uncle) took advantage of the open bar. In fact, when my dad and I got to the party, there was already a line at the bar. My dad and I also partook in some drinks (he had a virgin daiquiri since he started taking blood pressure medication recently and I had a tequila sunrise). There were only a few times when the bar didn’t have a sizable line...one of them was when dad and I got our drinks.

Another thing I learned is that there is nothing funnier than old people when they're drunk. Towards the end of the party, it was clear that many of these older folks had had just a bit too much to drink. Now, if you think that this meant that the older folks were falling down or falling asleep, you’d be wrong. They were still talking, partying, and laughing. And given the amount of glasses I saw on the tables, I’d dare a younger person to try and outdrink them. My Aunt Irene was walking around tipsy, laughing and having a great time. I nearly cracked up when she walked over to my aunt Jeri and said (in regards to the party) “The masquerade is over!” Fortunately, these older folks were smart enough to not drive. In fact, I think many of the people who were still having fun (even after the 9:00 pm end time of the party) had suites in the hotel.

One thing that either can be fun (or boring) about family gatherings is that it brings out the storyteller in many a person. However, it especially did with my dad. My dad has told my sister and I a good amount of stories from his childhood. One thing I learned from these stories is that my dad had a serious mischievous side in him. When he met back up with my aunt Jeri, the closest thing he had to a sister, the stories came out again. This time, though, there was another person to tell them. I heard quite a few stories I had never heard before. Here are some I remember:

-My dad was at a show (I don’t know what kind) with friends when someone in the audience threw a tomato at a person right in front of him. Of course, my dad starts laughing hysterically at the poor person...only to get hit moments later by a tomato himself.

-In the neighborhood my dad stayed in at the time, there was a Chinese man named Mr. Chan. He raised German shepherds for use as guard dogs or police dogs. My dad and his cousin Fella would run by Mr. Chan’s fence everyday and taunt the dogs. One day, my dad, cousin Fella, and my aunt Jeri were walking past the house. My dad and cousin Fella taunted the dogs as usual...except this time, the gate flew open. My aunt Jeri (the person who told me this story) was the first one to run away from the dogs and into the house, despite being kind of big (her admission). My dad and cousin Fella lagged behind and were being chased by the dogs. Suddenly, Mr. Chan comes out of his house, says something in Chinese, and the dogs whimper back to their yard.

-Mr. Chan, the same man of the previous story, inherited a dog from his brother when he died. It was a collie. He graciously gave the dog to aunt Jeri (since he was taking care of a lot of dogs as it was). The dog was supposed to stay in the basement. However, when it came to going down the stairs, it just sat there. My dad and cousin Fella had to pick up the dog and take it down the stairs in order for it to get down there. This was also true of bringing the dog back upstairs. When they asked Mr. Chan about it, he came, spoke some Chinese to the dog, and then the dog would go down the stairs. Apparently, the dog only knew commands in Chinese.

-When my dad and my cousin Marty (a girl) were at a party, suddenly a fight broke out and gunshots were heard. The only way they could get out had them running into the bathroom and going out the window.

Oh, lastly, family may help me get a job. My dad gave my resume to my cousin Jad who has some media connections, while my aunt Karen will also spread my resume around once my dad e-mails it to her. Karen’s aunt is Mary Dee, a personality on WGN-TV. So, the connections are about to get used. My dad knew about these, but he said he was following what his dad did. He let my dad look for a job on his own first, before giving him his help. I hope one of those leads pans out.

I don’t know when I’ll next see this side of my family. Unlike my grandmother’s side, they are pretty spread out. The cousin I escorted into the party is from San Francisco, for example. However, whenever I do see them, I hope it’s for another positive occasion like this anniversary party and not for a funeral.