Just like old times…

Her little Honda was packed full with the last load of her worldly goods. As she drove north on Juanita Drive, the car gave a pathetic cough, and stopped. She was afraid this was going to happen. The car had been running poorly for a few days, but because she was in the middle of moving, she ignored the signs. Her most precious gift, little Hannah, looked puzzled as they pulled to the side of the road, her big, brown eyes were magnified by pink glasses. Cindy was regretting that she had let her wear the Cinderella costume they had picked out for Halloween. And now she would have to walk the half mile to our house in the October rain, with Hannah, and Maddie, the fluffy, red Chow.

Cindy was planning to move to her home state, South Dakota, in a few months as soon as a project at work was finished. This was the night she was moving in with us to save money for the move, or so we all thought. None of us had any idea that there was a bigger plan about to unfold.

When she arrived at our door that night, carrying Hannah and leading a wet dog, we could tell she was trying to be brave. But she was cold, and soaked, and at the end of herself. She was questioning every decision she had recently made. I heard her crying in her room after the house was dark, but by the next day, she was determined to enjoy her last Thanksgiving and Christmas in Seattle, and make it memorable for Hannah.

I had been reluctant to invite another woman and a little girl into the household. I didn't want to share my territory with another woman, but I felt a tug at my heart telling me that this was the right thing to do. Cindy and I were both surprised at how easily we all meshed together. Hannah had no other men in her life, so it took a little time to adjust to the fact that our boys, aged 10 and 12, were very loud. The boys adored Hannah, and fought over who was going to hold her hand when we went to the mall. Hannah took every opportunity to bother them, as a little sister should, and soon they were a noisy sibling group.

A few weeks later, on the day before Thanksgiving, Lenny's relatives began to arrive for a big feast. When cousin Patrick walked through the front door, his eyes went straight to Cindy. Hannah warmed up to him immediately, and within four months, Pat and Cindy were married. After two years they had another daughter, Margy.

Through the years, the little family lived in California and Utah, and we didn't see them very much. For a while, Hannah thought that John and Joe were icky, but now at 16 she has become sentimental about her "brothers." She and John conspired to get the whole family together over Thanksgiving. Since we were going to fly to Lake Tahoe, and Pat, Cindy and the girls were going to be in California visiting Pat's folks, Hannah and John lobbied to get everyone together on Friday. They planned to drive "up the hill" from Vallejo to Tahoe. One by one, Pat's brothers Jim, John, and Tom called to ask if they could join us all in Tahoe with an assortment of spouses and children, and their Uncle Adrian. The widow of their late brother Dan brought three kids and her new boyfriend. Counting all the family who live in Tahoe as well as an exchange student from China, we numbered thirty-five. So, our task was to make dinner, at someone else's home, for 35 people. Fortunately, we were staying at the now-vacant home of Lenny's late Uncle Leo and Aunt Rosie (on the other side of the family) who owned a deli and catering business. It was a small party by their standards.

Before breakfast on Friday morning, Lenny and I went shopping. We bought beverages, cheese, salami, polenta, sausage, and the ingredients for a nice red sauce ("gravy" according to The Family). Back at the house, Lenny informed me that he was going to do all the cooking with his cousins. He wanted me to be the hostess, and to make sure everyone was happy. No sweat. I know this bunch, and they are a generous and entertaining family.

As people arrived, there was much hugging and crying. The men were singing in the kitchen as they cooked. The women sat in small groups, catching up or getting acquainted. A group of teen-age cousins, Shannon, Kristen, Kelsey, Hannah performed a hilarious dance spoof of a popular music video. Patrick gave each of my boys a Barbie Doll to commemorate the holiday season that they had a "little sister." Uncle Adrian cried because it was the first time in his 77 years that he was allowed in the kitchen to stir the polenta in the big copper pot. The food multiplied like the loaves and fishes, and Cindy and I sat on the hearth with our plates, and reminisced about the few months she and Hannah lived at our house. Before long we were both tearing up. It was such a magical time.

Then Lenny broke out the accordion, and the singing began. The Chinese student learned "That's Amore." At one point I caught Uncle Ed crying. "It's just like old times!" he said through his sentimental sobs. A little later, he and Aunt Josie, his bride of 60 years danced to their song, "Moonglow." People drifted in and out of the kitchen, helping with clean-up, snitching a slice of salami, a few oily olives, a little bite of cheese, or a second helping of pie.

As we said a boisterous good night, we paused for photos of Hannah and her "brothers," my sons. We thanked Hannah and John for plotting this get- together. Hannah's little sister, Margy was a bit shy at age ten. She didn't quite understand the connection that the big kids had, but somehow she knew she was the outcome of the events of that Thanksgiving two years before she was born.

I was a little worried that the neighbors would be upset at the amount of traffic and noise we brought to the quiet street in South Lake Tahoe, but the next day Lenny spoke to the lady next door who told him that it was good to see family enjoying the house again, just like old times. Now, apparently, our kids have learned the importance of the gathering. The old times are in good hands.