Camping with the Cousins
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To get to the campsite, I had to drive down that one road for a few miles until I came to this gate.
Then I had to stop, get out of the car, open the gate and drive through it. Then I had to stop, get out of the car, and close the gate before I continued.
On a cattle ranch, you never leave a gate open unless someone right behind you is also coming through the gate. Once thatās the case, itās that personās responsibility to close it.
Unless someone right behind them is also coming through the gate.
This could go on all night.
I drove forever, and I mean forever. Through rocky creeks, through bumpy roads, through Purgatory.
Not really on the Purgatory part. I just like to say Purgatory every now and then.
The truth is, I had no idea where I was going. My mother-in-law organized this campout/cousin reunion and she and my father-in-law just found the spot the other day. Itās so remote, I had never, ever been there in all the years Iāve been on the ranch.
Marlboro Man had gone on to the campsite with the kids and Iād run to town to get more bottled water since the temperature was 109 degrees at 6:30 pm and in situations like that, mothers donāt know what else to do but buy more bottled water. And by the time I was at this spot, my beloved texted me.
āWhere are you?ā he asked. I think he was concerned Iād taken a wrong turn.
I think I was concerned, too.
Thatās when I saw them on the horizon. There they were! I saw a bunch of carsāall of Marlboro Manās cousins whoād traveled from far and wide with their kids and their tentsāand I saw all the kids running around and playing. They were a good mile-and-a-half down the road, but at least I had them in my sights. At least I was headed in the right direction.
I stopped the car and typed āI see you guys!ā on my phone. I figured Marlboro Man would look down the road and see my gnarly white vehicle traveling along, leaving a trail of dust behind it.
I drove along, and a few seconds later, Marlboro Man texted back.
āI donāt think so.ā
Huh? I thought. What does he mean? He canāt see me? How is that possible? Iām driving right toward them. I see the cars. I see the kids!
I stopped the car again. āLook down the road,ā I texted back.
Then Marlboro Man responded, āThere is no road.ā
Huh? Heās talkinā crazy! I told myself. I continued on, refusing to be thwarted.
By that time I was close enough to the cars and kids to see that they werenāt actually cars and kids.
āNever mind,ā I cryptically texted, refusing to go into detail.
After the whole humiliating āI see you guys!ā thing, I persevered.
I eventually found another gate Marlboro Man had described to me, and I went through it. After that, I was almost entirely on my own.
There were hardly any tracks anywhere, as again: my mother-in-law and father-in-law just found this spot the other day. There wasnāt a worn path forged by pioneers on chuckwagons or even modern feed trucks. There hardly any trails, period. And that is a vulnerable feeling.
But at long last, I found it! I knew Iād found it when I sawā¦
Iām astute that way.
Marlboro Man and Tim had helped set up the campsite, including helping their cousinsāall girls, by the wayāhaul in and set up their own tents. This was cousin Deborahās tent, which we would affectionately nickname Taj Matent.
My blessed mother-in-law had planned this whole cousin campout back in February, when Marlboro Manās uncle passed away. All the cousinsāwho share a great-grandfatherāattended the funeral, and she decided they all needed to get together more frequently, just like they did when everyone was young.
Shortly after I got there, the first two kids went into the water. Something about it being 109 degrees.
Before long, a few more had joined in.
Minutes later, almost all the kids were in the creek, wading and swimming and laughing and staying in a cohesive group in order to avoid a water moccasin attack like the one in Lonesome Dove, which all the kids watched while still in the womb, and which they all know by heart.
You know what? All of these kids share a great-great grandfather.
He was Pa-Pa to my father-in-law, but Big Pa-Pa to my husband and all of his cousins.
Kate was Big Pa-Paās wife. The grandkids called her Dokie.
I canāt imagine how much joy Big Pa-Pa and Dokie would feel if they could see their great-great grandchildren playing in the creek together.
And Iām sure theyād be proud of these three lads, who avoided getting all wet by offering to be lifeguards.
They had a set number of heads to count. And they just sat there and counted them.
Evening finally turned to night, and 109 degrees finally turned to 90 degrees. Marlboro Man, Tim, and the rest of the men left for home while all the female cousins stuck around and caught up and laughed and told stories.
Meanwhile, the next generationāthe third cousinsāall got to know one other by playing games and toilet papering each othersā tents.
I didnāt know campers did things like that.
It was fun to watch them bond over camp pranks.
It was also so much fun listening to Marlboro Manās cousinsāKatie, Deborah, Jana, Lori, Blake, Kim, and Hollyātell stories about growing up together. About their parents and grandparents. About Marlboro Man and Tim. I could listen to that stuff all day long. I just love it.
We also talked about cousin relationships.
Basically, itās like this:
If you share a grandfather, youāre first cousins. If you share a great-grandfather, youāre second cousins. If you share a great-great grandfather, youāre third cousins.
Then thereās the whole once-removed thing.
If you share a grandfather, youāre first cousins. If your first cousin has a child, that child is your first cousin once-removed. If you share a great-grandfather, youāre second cousins. If your second cousin has a child, that child is your second cousin once-removed.
So what I determined is that the kids that were running around are my third cousins once removed by marriage.
There was a boysā tent and a girlsā tent.
But it didnāt matter. The kids were back and forth between tents all night.
Eventually, around midnight, the little girls called it quits. Initially, Missy and I had planned to leave late after everyone else had gone to bed, and go home to the comfort of our respective air conditioned bedrooms. Because of this, I hadnāt brought anything along: Not a sleeping bag, not my toothbrush, not my Tums. Itās a thing that happened during my pregnancies: I learned never to be without Tums at night. I usually donāt need it. But I canāt sleep if itās not there, because thereās nothing worse than waking up in the middle of the night needing a Tums and not having one.
As the night wore on, though, Missy had decided that we were both going to spend the night after all. She did not consult me about this. She merely informed me that we were both staying.
āButā¦ā I objected. āBut but but but but butā¦ā
āYes?ā Missy asked.
āBut I donāt have my Tums.ā I said. Tums had became the symbol for all I did not bring to the campout, which was everything. But my mother-in-law had conveniently brought along two extra cots for the girlsā tent, so there was really no getting out of it.
āWeāll get through it together!ā Missy responded. And with that, we both headed to the girlsā tent while the adult cousins continued catching up about the old days.
Because Tums had been in the ether all night, Missy and I laid on our cots and had a whispered conversation about the kinds of foods we eat that cause us to need Tums. For Missy, itās pizza. Not homemade pizza, but take-out pizza. Anything with an acidic tomato sauce. For me, itās garlicābut only after 7:00 pm. Iām fine if itās 6:30, but if I ingest garlic after 7:00 pm, I have to have Tums. Then Missy started describing how her pizza-induced heartburn manifests itself, and how sheās learned that if she props herself up with a pillow, itās fine. And I said that Iāve just learned not to eat garlic after 7:00.
We went on and on like this for awhile, occasionally giggling while we continued to swap war stories about heartburn.
Thatās when we heard the little girls in the cabināall of whom we though were sound asleepābegin to whisper. Then, in unison, they all burst into laughterādeep belly laughter that rang through the night sky.
Missy and I were jolted out of our whisper-fest.
āWhat in the WORLD?ā I asked. āWe thought you guys were asleep!ā
Missy joined in. āWhatās so funny, anyway?ā
My twelve-year-old daughter let us in on it.
āWe were just laughing because you and Aunt Missy are just like us,ā she explained. āYou came into the cabin and started whispering and giggling just like we did.ā
āAw,ā Missy and I said. We felt young again. We were just like the young āuns!
And then my daughter lowered the boom.
āExcept instead of talking about lip gloss and musicā¦youāre talking about Tums.ā
Then they all started laughing again.
Missy and I went to sleep in a huff.- https://rentry.co/rtd8zk
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