Summer Break Day Thirty

I went to my family reunion today, and it was like watching a rerun of the Sopranos.

Here's a quick history. My dad is the middle child of thirteen, and that is just one generation back. He's apart of this epic clan from the Italian town of St Ipolito. The family name is Spagnuolo. They cover a whole ton of other families including the Carusos, and the De Lucas. My family reunion involves a few thousand people and takes over this Catholic church and the surrounding church grounds.

There are rows of picnic tables and coolers as far as the eye can see. I can't name even a tenth of the people who are there (I have trouble keeping the names of my dad's siblings straight). The patriarchs of the family sit in groups under the large oaks and maples in recliners that are old and frayed in the corners. People stream past them like they are godfathers and everyone leans in, gives them a handshake and a kiss on the cheek (very European). Half the adults are overweight, and nearly 2/3 are in Italian soccer jerseys or some piece of clothing with Adidas logos. And the kids are running around playing soccer or throwing baseballs.

That's my family reunion. I should've brought my camera and taken pictures, but I am terrible about remembering that.

This weekend was also the Great Lakes Folk Festival. I spent two days at that wandering around, listening to music and people watching.

Saturday night there was a band called Grupo Fantasma playing at the Dance Stage, and I ended up dancing with a group of friends I hadn't seen in years for almost two hours.

I'm playing golf again tomorrow with my dad (third time this year, which is beyond rare for me).