Meet my cousin

My weekend turned out to be different what what I had planned. Sometime ago I received a postcard reminding me that this past weekend there was a Lacoochee Reunion. This takes place every year on the last Saturday in September. My mother used to go to it all the time and come home and tell me about all the people she had seen. For some reason she never mentioned my going along, and I never pushed the point.

A few years ago, I realized I needed to reconnect, and so I asked my friend, Lorette, to go along with me and we went. I walked around, asking people if they knew my parents. Some did. They asked if my daddy was the man who rode his bicycle from Trilby to the lumber mill on his bicycle. I wasn't sure about that, but it was a logical assumption.

I went again a couple of years ago as I was on my way to Virginia for October. My cousin was there, as she was when I went before. And she was there on Saturday. When I first had gotten the invitation, I laid it aside because I had made plans to go to a Saturday with Sweet Adelines in Brandon. When I woke up Saturday morning, I had overslept, and when I woke up, something said to me, "Beverly, go to the reunion and see your cousin."

So I did. We had a good visit. My cousin turned 80 in February. When I was a girl, my mother worked in a drug store in Bradenton where the owner never closed. Mother had to work on holidays, yes, Thanksgiving and Christmas, New Years, and on and on. She got one day off during the week, but rarely had those holidays off, and so I often spent time at my cousin's house during the holidays. She had married right out of high school and had a son just six years younger than me.

I was always welcome in her home. She bears my mother's name, and my mother often helped her when when she was in need. Over the years she had a difficult life, worked so hard, and never failed to help her neighbor when in need.

My cousin is a wonderful cook. Her father was the brother of the gentleman who is in the photo at top of my blog. They were immigrants from Syria who came to the States and made a new life. Her daddy died when she was young, but my aunt learned to cook some wonderful Syrian dishes, and my cousin did as well. After she retired from the business world, she began cleaning houses and doing some catering.

While we were talking, I asked her if she still cooked a lot. She looked at me and sort of smiled. "Oh, yes," she said. "I cook for some older people because they get tired of eating out." Then I asked her if she still cleaned. "Oh, yes," she said, "but not as much as I used to." I got tired just listening to her activities.

My time spent with her was wonderful. I love her so much, and I'm so glad we had the chance to get together. I have so much more to write about this past weekend, but that will have to wait for another day. I'm in the process of getting ready to leave for Virginia. I have about 10 people coming for a lunch on Thursday and a couple of appointments before I leave on Sunday. I'm also attending a 50th high school class reunion with my friend and going to a play at the Manatee Players on Friday night. So I may not post again until I get to Virginia next week.