Colonel Sanders was black (Family Reunion)

Every other summer, my grandmother’s grandfather’s family has a reunion. Seeing as my great-great grandfather had 14 kids (by two wives… who were sisters… I think one died or something), and my great grandparents had 8 kids, this is no small affair. For one reason or another, I always missed out on them (summer program, work, etc.), so this was my first one in about 10 years.

This year, it was in Kingstree, South Carolina. My grandmother and her siblings were especially excited because this was the town where A) our ancestors were from (slave masters and everything) B) they grew up and C) where our first family reunion in 1980 took place. I was less than excited because this town was in the middle of nowhere: a good 2 hour drive from my ‘rents’ house in Columbia (3/4ths of that being US highways and state roads).

My dad and I left the house Friday morning (it was fun to catch up with him and avoid the whole gay thing… still not sure where he stands with that), arriving in the early afternoon. Of course, I was put to work straight away, and after a couple of hours of lifting, greeting, fetching, and introducing, we headed to 301 (my great-grandparents’ house) for food.

The recession had a very real effect on the reunion’s attendance. I was used to a few hundred people showing up, but my mother said about 90 people had registered. Many of the Detroit (pronounced with equal stress on both syllables… and loudly) and Philadelphia cousins were absent. But that didn’t stop those who were present from cracking open a couple of Bud Lights and talking mess at the spades table (funny: usually my branch plays bid whist… but that might just be the older generations… I play neither).

Can we please have a short conversation about the 8am praise breakfast on Saturday (after having Nuvo dreams [a fruity drink] with my 20-35-year-old cousins the night before)? Who the hell’s idea was that?! And it wasn’t even in the hotel: it was a good 6 miles away from town! At the end of the program, my great uncle with the southern drawl and the Colonel Sanders goatee stood up to make an announcement (I used to think Colonel Sanders was black because I thought his cartoon image looked like my uncle… that was an embarrassing day in middle school).

“Well, y'all know Ahm recently retiahed from mah pastoral post—“

“But you can still beeeg for money like a preacher!” interrupted one of the Detroit cousins from his generation.

“Ah nevah said ah retiahed from preachin’! And ah can still ask fuh money lahk a preachah! Now, th' family will be attendin' Bethel AME Chu'ch, and Ah know some-a you ahn’t gonna make it tomah mawnin'. And that’s fine. That’s why we’re gonna take up a collection fuh th' family raht nah to present to th' chu'ch…”

(He said that we were going to take up a collection for the family to present to the church the next day, just in case people weren't going to make it to the service.)

In the afternoon, we had the “Family Fun Flashback Cookout” at 301. When I tell you it was hot, I don’t think you really get it. It was country hot. “Slave hot!” as one of my cousin’s put it. Almost too hot to eat. But there were ribs.

One of our cousins had organized a Family-Feud-style game that focused on our family’s history and culture in general. One of the questions was “What kind of meat does a [family name] like to eat?” I think 2 different kinds of pork were the first answers. Unrelated note: hypertension runs in the family.

Anyway, the final question was to name all of my great-great grandfather’s children (all 13) in birth order. The cousin manning the grill was banished to the front yard because he was wearing a shirt from a past family reunion that had all the answers on it (in a tree… creative). The winning team got the oldest and the youngest in the correct order, mainly because those were earlier questions. The losing team only got the youngest correct. Thank god pretty runs in our family.

There’s a funny dynamic in our family where what the elders say goes. You could be in your 40s, but if an old aunt or your grandmother wants something or wants you to do something, best believe you’ll be on the job. All weekend, one of my aunts was looking past me to another cousin to hand her something that was close to me. And the elder might not remember your name (I answer to my older brother’s name more than he does… which gets very confusing when he’s actually present). This most immediately affects those of us who are in that 20-35 bracket because, naturally, older cousins and siblings (especially the males) tend to pass tasks down.

The organizers had gotten a bouncey castle for the kids. A few of my older female cousins in the 20-35 bracket saw one of their aunts (my cousin... an elder with scolding power) go into the house. The gave each other a look, and the oldest one said, “You ready?” They made a mad dash for the bouncey castle. The whole castle was shaking for about 30 seconds (these cousins aren’t the smallest of women) before they all came out huffing and sweating. Five minutes later, we saw this.

I probably shouldn't have been laughing and taking pictures while parents were trying to grab their kids.

-

It turns out that the air pump had gotten unplugged, but what hilarious timing!

That night, there was a cocktail hour before the banquet, and the cousin who was organizing everything has specified that we only got 2 drinks with our “tickets”. My 20-35 cousins and I had asked her about this the night before, and she had said that that was all that was included with our registration cost and that we could bring our own if we wanted to drink beyond that. I noticed that nobody was really drinking the liquor from the hospitality room (that my parents had brought from their own liquor cabinet… they don’t drink much), so I grabbed a bottle from there.

And a good thing too because I’m not familiar with Military Special, but it came in a plastic bottle. Meanwhile, Hippy Cuz’s father had commandeered her tickets because she wasn’t turning 21 for another 2 weeks. He also took our Muslim cousins’ tickets (a family of 4). At around 6:50 when our organizing cousin announced that the bar would be “closed” at 7, everyone bum rushed the bar. Did I mention this side of the family has a (Scotch?-) Irish name?

As part of the dinner program, I performed a song that I wrote, which many recognized from my songwriting page. The DJ didn’t arrive until about 20 minutes before I went on (when everyone was already there for cocktail hour), so I didn’t get a sound check. From what I remember (I kinda get "in the zone" when I'm performing), it was a so-so performance, and I was getting almost no reaction from the audience. But I did spot one of the caterers full on dancing while he was clearing plates!

At that point, I’d only had one drink, and I noticed that no one was manning the bar. I figured my family had paid for the liquor anyway, so I went and made tidied up my cup. I'd already poured liquor over the ice in my 8-oz cup, and I was starting to pour my mixer. My older sister hissed, “Hurry up because the bar’s supposed to be closed!” . o O (Fine, I’ll turn the next 3 seconds to 2.5 to finish pouring.) Yeah, she does that.

As the night went on, more and more people noticed that the bar was unsupervised, and they started serving themselves. Eventually, I put the bottles that I had brought on the bar. I had to giggle when the uncle who was known for his drinking (even though he’s not supposed to) handed me his screwdriver with the following command: “Tighten this drink up for me.”

Around 11, we got back to the hotel, I and the 20-35 cousins headed to the room of my cousin who said she was making drinks in her room that night. Around 12:30, another one of my cousins said she had to take a test for her online class. Or rather, she said, “We’re gonna take this test.” Hippy Cuz answered the first multiple choice question, and my cousin was like, “Oh, well you sit down at the computer, and I’ll look over your shoulder.”

By the third question, I had surmised that this was a business management class, and it was something where you had to actually read the book to get the answers right (rather than just using logic and common sense). Keep in mind: we’re drinking and still having conversation; the test is timed (60 minutes for 50 questions); and the program can tell if you open up new windows during the test to google the info.

By 1, I was done. I’d drank a bunch of sugar (Nuvo, LIT pre-made mix), I had no buzz, and I was tired. Plus I had to get up in the morning for "chu'ch".

I’d only packed a collared shirt and trousers for the banquet, but I figured God didn’t care what I wore. And if the people in the church did, whatever, I was gone in a few hours anyway. I went to my parents’ room around 10:15.

Mom: “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Mom: “Uh uh. You can’t go to church like that. Maybe in Columbia, but not here. [To my dad] He thought he could wear that to church!”

This was a slight shock coming from my slightly radical parents. From my mom, who, coming from our church-centric family, converted to Islam for a few years and had history with the Nation (hello, my name's Kareem!). My parents who are constantly standing up to their church’s old established leadership to make their church's ministries more effective. They were telling me I couldn’t wear shorts to church?!

Of course, I could see because we were in the country, and people were more conservative. Plus their comments were nothing compared to what my grandmother’s generation would have said had they saw me dress that way at church (but it would have been fun to stir them up a bit). I was actually kind of looking forward to going to church in the country. I never go in the City anymore, and I figured it would be a spectacle if nothing else.

I took my mom’s car over to 301 to hang out with the other heathens. When I walked into the back yard, my cousin informed me that “we” had gotten a 62 on the test the previous night.

I went inside to have a seat and cool off. Around 12:45, some of the family that went to church started trickling in. “An hour and a half, and he hasn’t started preaching yet.” Say what?! Even my mom and my organizing cousin left during the second offering.

Around 2:30, the rest of the family appeared. Apparently, most of them were sitting up front, unable to sneak out like the earlier set.

Anyway, Mom and I left late in the afternoon, and as I drove the two hours back to Columbia, we went back and forth between listening to talk radio and talking about race in the gay community. Because we’re intellectual like that.

Did I mention that my Monday morning direct flight had gotten cancelled, and I ended up missing half a day of work (i.e., overtime!) with a stopover in gAyTL?

Did I mention they were advertising weave (i.e., hair extensions) in the airport!

Oh my god, I'm finally in ATL! I can't wait to be in my first rap video! Is there a hair salon in this terminal?!

Yeah.

Click here to check out a day with my dad's side of the fam.

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