Beachwalk Reunion

 "But I would walk five hundred miles / And I would walk five hundred more / Just to be the man who walked a thousand / Miles to fall down at your door."

- "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" Lyrics and music by The Proclaimers

Twenty-four members of the Clavadetscher/Dravenstott family descended via air and land on Michigan City, Indiana, last week. My brother, John, and his wife, Carol, generously facilitated three airport pickups and the loan of their cars so that relatives from LA, Denver, San Francisco and Montana could make it to the Beachwalk community on the shores of Lake Michigan. 

The Chicago Clavs have made repeated trips to Michigan City and surrounds but none of the rest of us had ever heard of it and were frequently confused about our destination state, occasionally convinced it was Michigan, Illinois or Indiana. To confuse matters further, Beachwalk was in the Central Time Zone (highly relevant for Teams meetings) but only ten minutes away from the Eastern Time Zone. We had to leave at 4:00 to get to a 5:30 dinner only a short jaunt away.

Despite our geographic confusion, it's safe to say that Beachwalk has now assumed a permanent position in family lore. My mom, my siblings and I and our assorted spouses, along with fourteen grandchildren (ranging in age from 18 months to 22 years) all assembled in two brightly painted houses. The green house, containing all children under the age of 14 plus a few of the older cousins, was the noisy house. Our family plus my mom and my sister were generously provided with the the turquoise, or quiet, house.

The Beachwalk community uses small one-way roads and most visitors travel by golf cart from house to pool, beach or coffee/sandwich/ice cream shop. A small, man-made lake allows for paddle boards, kayaks and fishing. Young children roam free in every quadrant via scooter, bike, golf cart or wagon, as parents convey loads of beach gear to the boardwalk on Lake Michigan, just a half mile away. Protected from the main roads and replete with good-natured vacationers, Beachwalk was safe for the youngsters to roam independently.

Our clan gathered each afternoon and evening at the larger house, watching Olympic finals, prepping meals for twenty-four, imbibing gluten-free seltzers, and tossing bean bags for corn hole tournaments. The feet of the youngsters turned black and sand invaded the floors.  Suntan lotion and bug spray perfumed the air and pool time served for showers. Screened-in porches kept evening mosquitos at bay and the grill filled with chicken, burgers, brats, even salmon.

Through each activity - dancing in the small park to our family theme song by the Proclaimers (heroically attempted by a local without thorough knowledge of the lyrics), corn hole tournments, girls' night out at a nearby winery, ping pong in front of the coffee shop, playing in the waves at Lake Michigan - ran a bright ribbon of exultant laughter.  I don't laugh enough in "real life," I decided, since my ribs hurt so much from night after night of guffaws with my family, unused to so much merriment.

Some highlights: cupcakes to celebrate two birthdays and an anniversary. My 17-year-old niece driving us home from dinner at the winery, stoically focused on her driving as we belted Pink songs at the top of our lungs and shook the minivan with our seated dance moves. Omnipresent danger of peeing our pants with laughter when that same niece transposed our group family photo from the lighthouse to a nearby power pant (coal-fired, we discovered, not nuclear). Molly and Julia harmonizing a song from Rent, cousins from Massachusetts bonded with same-age equals from California and the baby running around playing ball with boys three times his size.

Real life routines are a hard sell after the festivities of last week. Despite the comfort of home and space (and quiet), I miss the laughter and the time spent with my family. Same time next year? I'll try to get my laughing muscles in shape beforehand, but nothing brings on the joy and laughter like our reunions.

A Milestone Birthday for Rob

Our skinny black scaredy-cat, Jack, hid in the closet behind Rob's dress pants for the last four days as extended family members roamed our house. The high-pitched voices of our young nieces and nephews particularly triggered him to slink his belly down low to the carpet and crawl into his dark space, only coming out for water and the occasional bowl of kibble. For the rest of us, however, Rob's 50th birthday party / Dravenstott reunion was a festive celebration of friends and family.

As the youngsters (four little ones under the age of 7) dug out our old toys and built forts on the stair landings, the adults engaged in countless games: board games, all manner of card games, "remember when" games. Connie helped me stock up at the supermarket with barbecue fodder and lunchmeats while Rob ordered an entire shelf full of chips. Our coolers ran over, sitting on the back porch and sweating out their excess over sodas and sparkling water, not to mention a variety of beers for Rob and his brothers and some hard kombucha for me.

Rob doesn't typically like attention - or birthdays - but 50 is a milestone and valued connections with friends and family help to ease the sting of the high  number and replace any misgivings over age with appreciation for a loving and supportive community. I turned 50 in March of 2021 and my friends and family threw me a "walking party" along a nearby path, reluctant to gather critical mass either inside or out. The cards and photo album that I received filled me with gratitude and I was able to get vaccinated and fly to see my mother, sister and brother at the end of that month, for the first time in over a year. My happy memories motivated me to provide Rob with a similar feeling and sense of fulfillment. 

For this 2022 pandemic celebration we were able to gather and sit together under the shade tents, avoiding light rain and the rare outburst of sun, less concerned about COVID and excited to see neighbors who have been buried by work or family obligations. While the youngsters shrieked with joy on the nearby park, cornhole sets rotated through countless teams and the thud of bags on the wood were punctuated by cheers and groans. More barbecue disappeared from the catering table and Rob made a lovely speech over two cakes - a chocolate CostCo confection and a vanilla gluten free globe (home-made). As our niece angled for two pieces of cake, Rob thanked everyone for coming and for helping us raise our kids, enjoy happy times and survive the hard ones. Towards the end of the evening, as lightning flashed in the west and thunderstorms threatened, all remaining party-goers pitched in to help clean up. All in all, a magical evening to celebrate a milestone.