You never learn more about your family than you do at a family reunion. And I had some serious remedial Gustafson coursework to account for after missing the last two. Sure, I've occasionally crossed paths with our East Coast relatives, or our vacations and a plane delay or two may overlap conveniently, but I didn't really know what to expect after two or four or seven years (or whole lifetimes in a few cases). Not to mention the ride Stephen was in for, having never been with so many Gustafsons before in his life. If he had approached it like an anthropologist or a wild-(family)-life study, I wonder what he would observe...
Day 1: We arrived somewhat clandestinely after lunch which allowed us to inject ourselves into activities quietly and seamlessly as if we had been there all week. Marine life is largely popular; the pool is often occupied by a gaggle of Gustafsons if the weather is not more cooperative on the beach. A traditional talent show boasted of a range of skills from flute, piano and saxophone playing, to app design, songwriting, oil painting, Dad joking, Shakespeare parodying, and advertising deodorant (of which Gustafsons, apparently, are on the scent for). After that, we witnessed karaoke turned Gustafsons: After Dark when Uncle Nephi and Uncle Jared led the gang in "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred; no shirts were removed, though this may be due to the earlier-discussed antiperspirant issue.
Day 2: This morning we enjoyed wave-hopping and boogie-boarding with several cousins. We encountered crisis when Stephen's wedding ring was lost to the rolling waves, but we witnessed a rally of caring loved ones scanning the beach and (those with goggles) the seabed. Though our efforts to find the ring proved fruitless, we encountered an exotic fruit Sam and Connor successfully cracked after hurling it from the porch to the pavement by the pool. Throughout the afternoon and in the midst of family photos, we observed that many Gustafsons continue to practice reading, Candy Crush, puzzle-solving, hot-tubbing and baking or cake-decorating to recharge before social gatherings. Then it was our privilege to take part in Uncle Alex and Aunt Rachel's "reception," celebrating their recent nuptials; the gnome cake-topper received a chuckle, as did Grandma's toast: "I don't have to worry about Alex anymore!" followed by three cheers.
Day 3: Jason and Zane's sandcastle lived up to Gustafson reputation and the Uncles Erik seemed especially built for beach-bum-ery as one bounced back and forth across the billowing tide and the other taunted the sea in search of more sizable swells (though this may just be the latter's nature, as he also proved frightening when beating on the doors during the evening showing of 'A Quiet Place.') Joseph, the only Gustafson of his kind (third generation), should continue the aquatic genes as he showed particular delight for the waves. Like most Swedes, the Gustafsons excel in the making of a smorgasbord, or at least the concept of "clean out the fridge night." We have eaten well all week, and now, as Dad might have said, it's time to face the green beans.
Day 4: As cleaning and good-byes commenced, a dry wit and humid sadness filled the air. Though a few Gustafsons may double in age before the next gathering, there's a renewed sense of contact and care. We've met many of our cousins, aunts and uncles we had only heard of before, and we leave with a heightened sense of identity, belonging, and love. Gustafsons are like a tie-dyed reunion shirt: a spectrum of individuals, backgrounds, interests and beliefs who have you covered when it counts even if you don't see them every season.
Choose your love, love your choice.
