Saturday, July 17, 2010

Doggone you, Ethan

Since it's summer, as embarassing as it is, I'll regale you with my infamous family reunion story. I attended my first Hunt reunion before I was even married.

The Hunts have a game they call “Deer.” It is a campsite version of “Hide and Seek.” One person is the hunter and carries a flashlight. Everyone else are deer, and hide in the woods. When the hunter shines his flashlight on a deer and identifies him or her, they become a dog and must help the hunter find the other deer. The dogs, however, are only allowed to bark. They can’t talk, shout out names, or use any other forms of communication to indicate when they’ve been successful in locating a deer.

This was my first experience with the game, but I was gung-ho, ready to make my mark and impress my future husband with my prowess. I started out as a deer, but unfortunately, was soon located, identified, and transformed into a dog. That was okay, though, I’d be the best darn dog they’d ever seen.

Stealthily, I crept through the bushes trying to locate the hidden deer. Success! I found Uncle Ethan hiding in a thick stand of brush. It was too dark to see him clearly, but he was the only one in the family that big and burly, so I began to bark furiously. Usually, when this happens, the deer bolts and tries to escape, but Ethan just stood there. I was afraid he would try to run, though, so I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him in place and continued to bark, louder and louder, but no hunter appeared. “Yip, yip yip, where’s that darn hunter? Bark, bark, bark …”

Finally, I tired of barking at poor ole Uncle Ethan, who never made a sound, and curiously, never tried to run away. I decided the hunter wasn’t going to show up, so I let go of Ethan and headed back to the campfire. To my dismay, there sat Ethan.

“Ethan, what are you doing here?” I exclaimed.

“Oh, I didn’t play this round,” was his horrifying answer.

“Then who …” I didn’t finish the sentence, and tried to sink down into my chair, but the story was soon dragged from me of what I’d been doing out in the bushes for the past fifteen minutes or so.

It was concluded that I’d accosted a neighboring camper as he’d tried to relieve himself in the bushes. No wonder he didn’t run! This story has probably become legend around the stranger’s campfire as well. I made my mark, all right. But Jeff married me anyway.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


My brother's crazy. He had an aneurysm in his brain which they operated on. He was supposed to be in intensive care for 2 weeks, but was moved into acute care after only a couple of days, then a week later, he checked himself out of the hospital. I think he made an appearance at work a couple of days later. Crazy. But more power to him, I say. I'm just glad everything is okay.

My baby brother broke his neck two times, yes, count them, two times and survived and is doing great. What can I? The V.W. men are tough.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


This is something I've been meaning to write since May. Better late than never. My baby sister graduated from Harvard in May (way to go, Wendy!), and another sister offered to fly my mom to Boston with her to join in that event, but Mom wasn't going to go because she didn't want to be a burden and slow everyone down. Well, this is what I want my dear Mommy to know, the saying, "He ain't heavy, he's my brother," goes 20 bazillion times for moms. This is a woman who raised eight kids and is constantly helping out with her umpteen grandkids and even great-grandkids. When you go to her house, you can't be there five minutes without her putting a plate of food in your hands and throwing a blanket over your lap. She notices people. Everyone. Everywhere. And is constantly on the lookout for ways to help.
So, Mom, just let me say, if you have a shuffle in your step, we'll walk slower. If you're wobbly on your feet, we'll give you an arm to hold on to. It's our turn to serve, and whatever you need, whenever you need it, it's our great joy and pleasure to deliver.
I'm happy to report that she did go to Boston (thanks, Jeanine!). And I'd like to give a big shout out to all my brothers and sisters who live closer and serve so much more than I do. We love you, Mom.