Sunday Evenings

Tradition allows for a sense of normalcy in a chaotic world.  After a more chaotic week than usual, I was longing for a little tradition.  Stresses of work, moving and financial pressures made me long for the reassuring words of my grandfather that now come in memory only.  This past week I found myself at the brink of tears missing Gumpy.  During dinner with my Mom and Gladys, I realized just how much I missed Sunday evenings at the farm too.

It was the one day each week our entire family and close friends came together.  Mom, Rebekah and I would hike the half mile from our house up Shaytown Road to the farm during decent weather.  Aunt Mary would usually come home then too.  Our neighbor Jane (affectionately renamed Aunt Jane) would walk across the street.  Sometimes the Swartz's would stop by, as would several other family friends.  My Uncle Jim would occasionally call from California.  The tiny farmhouse always seemed full.  

At some point, Ema would begin making popcorn.  Ironically, popcorn is one of my least favorite foods, but I managed to eat quite a bit each Sunday.  A game of euchre would break out on the kitchen table while Gumpy kept turning the volume up on the TV because he was having trouble hearing 60 Minutes.  Political discussions occasionally ensued.  So did entire conversations based on bad puns.  Gumpy would retire to the Florida Room during the winter and I would try to sneak into the grown-up conversation down there.  The evening would end with hugs, laughter and phone calls from Mary to announce she made it safely back to Lansing.

Those evenings slowly faded after Gumpy, and then Ema retired.  Their annual trips to Florida muted the fun of Sunday evenings during the winter.  We soldiered on, marching over to Aunt Jane's to play cards for a few years but the buzz of a full farm house was gone.  Mary married a long time friend, we moved to Traverse City and Aunt Jane passed away.  By the time I was 16, our Sunday evening tradition was gone.  

Sunday evening’s Gumpy beamed.  He loved having his family close, hoping that physical proximity would help keep us all emotionally connected.  He loved having the house that was a hub of healthy activity.  My grandfather always seemed supremely happy each week.

I realized over dinner tonight that I finally have a home where that tradition can be resurrected.  Sure, our family is spread even further apart now.  Gumpy is no longer with us either.  A loft has a different feeling than a farmhouse too.  However, I know that my grandfather would be proud that I would even want to try resurrecting that tradition.  Anything that would keep our family healthy, happy and together.