The Family Reunion That Almost Wasn’t

Discover all the planning and preparations it takes to reunite relatives

Reunion. Too often, it's one of those ideas that, at the moment it surfaces, seems so worthwhile, even important, yet it quickly finds a place in the very back corner of your mind, behind so many other valuable, pressing thoughts and concerns.

A Funeral Sparks an Idea

I remember the day this particular “reunion” idea was born. We lingered after dinner following my Grand-Aunt Donna’s funeral, chatting with relatives, some of whom I hadn’t seen for at least 15 years. Someone said what each of us was thinking. “Seems like we only get together when someone

dies.” Heads nodded as guilt-shrouded gazes sought the floor.

“You can all come to my house,” offered Bonnie, my mom. “We have plenty of room.” Spirits brightened at the possibility of a pleasant family gathering.

“You plan it, and we will come,” several promised.

As we headed home—Mom, Dad, Grandma, my two-month-old son, and I—the conversation shifted from how little or much this cousin had changed to wondering what ever became of aunt, uncle, or cousin so-and-so. Our thoughts buzzed with ideas about how to get the family together that didn’t involve a funeral. As far as we could figure, the entire group hadn’t assembled since Dad’s grandfather, Alonzo Hammitt, died in 1964, before my first birthday.

But then we arrived home, and more immediate concerns tugged at our thoughts. And the idea that seemed so worthwhile just three hours ago almost vanished, surfacing only occasionally over the next two years. Anyway, it seemed like such a huge undertaking, a dream bordering on the impossible. We let the idea float about undisturbed in the recesses of our minds.

Plans Fade, Then Resurface

I can’t remember what happened to fan the spark back into a flame, but finally, the worthwhile idea graduated into an event with a date circled on the calendar. The first planned and hopefully pleasant Hammitt Family Reunion would take place.

Reconstructing the Family Tree

Although the long-anticipated day was still more than six months away, there wasn’t a minute to waste. With pen and notebook in hand, Mom quizzed Dad about his cousins. “Now, how many kids did Aunt Gail have?” and “And remind me, who did Martha marry?”

Finally, the family roster felt complete—but had we missed anyone? Hopefully not. Now, it was time to locate addresses for these folks we hadn’t seen for so long. Thankfully, we found a wealth of information on the internet. Including an astonishing number of folks with the surname Hammitt. So many more than we ever dreamed existed.

The First Invitations Go Out

We sent postcards announcing the reunion to the first and second generation—Dad’s aunts and uncles, then first cousins—in plenty of time for people to schedule vacation time. We urged everyone to “Mark your calendar!” for the special event and to spread the word among their children and grandchildren. We asked for addresses for their offspring and promised a newsletter with all the details about the big day would follow.

As we worked, our excitement grew. But I couldn’t help wondering if anyone else shared our enthusiasm. What if the postcards ended up in the trash without a second thought? What if everyone thought the whole idea ridiculous? I hoped I was worrying needlessly, trying hard to believe others also felt the need to assemble the family under pleasant circumstances.

With postcards in the mail, all we could do now was wait for encouraging sentiments or discouraging silence. I figured if there was no interest, we could save face by never mentioning the idea again. “What? A family reunion??” Accompanied by an emphatic eye roll and a firm, “Who needs to know their relatives anyway?”

Signs of Interest Emerge

While phone calls and letters didn’t exactly pour in, we received many addresses and several enthusiastic responses, including “I wouldn’t miss it!” Our excitement was refueled. If people were excited about coming, we had better not disappoint them. Because what if they left wishing they hadn’t bothered? What if the reunion fell way short of everyone’s expectations? We forged ahead, determined to produce a Grade A event.

Poring over albums and scrapbooks, and digging through boxes of loose photographs,

reminded me why this idea of a family reunion had seemed so important in the first place. People who are related, who share the same heritage, who possess the same genes, should know each other. They should spend time reminiscing and stay in touch with one another’s lives.

The piles of pictures brought to mind the powerful resemblance among the extended family members. For decades, it was common to hear how much someone “looks like a Hammitt.” Distinct features, including the eyes, the shape of the face, and the broad hands with shortish fingers, could easily be traced across three generations—at least. These strong, inherited characteristics hailed from Lena Bell (Taylor) Hammitt, Dad’s grandma.

A Newsletter to Rally the Troops

Time passed quickly, and soon it was one month before the reunion—time to put the promised detail-filled newsletter together. We included a list of those who had committed to coming, hoping that information would nudge others to attend. We boasted that the meal would be plentiful and delicious. Included a map and exhaustive navigational instructions. And to stir a sense of nostalgia, we included old pictures, asking readers to “Name that Hammitt.” Bring photographs and other memorabilia; we encourage you to do so. From those unable to attend, we invited news and pictures to be sent to us that could be passed around on reunion day. And finally, we requested an RSVP one week before the big event. All printed on bright yellow paper, hoping to distinguish this critical missive from the junk mail that crowds everyone’s mailbox.

The Day Arrives…with a Downpour

The day of the reunion dawned cold, windy, and rainy. I’m not talking about a summer shower or a quickly passing storm. The ominous-looking sky destroyed any notion that the weather “would clear up soon.” The rain came down in sheets. The wind pounded against the awning over the driveway. The mercury hovered around 60 degrees with a wind chill of 35 on June 1st in Indiana.

Disappointment enveloped me. We’d spent hours weeding, planting flowers, and scrubbing the porch and deck. Our time would have been better spent expanding the garage.

Frustration piled on top of disappointment when I discovered my food was uncooked after sitting in a cold oven for two hours while we attended church. Between the horrendous weather, the raw food, and my recurring doubts about the entire affair, serious questions about where this so-called brilliant idea had originated swirled through my mind. I fought the urge to remove myself from what had all the makings of a gigantic disaster, to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.

Dad paced through the dining room and kitchen, wondering aloud if we should move everything to the barn because it was larger than the garage. Of course, the barn was a distance from the house, had not been prepared, AND it was a BARN! The awning stretched across the driveway, intended to enlarge the gathering area, was now totally useless, as were the porch and the deck. We had no real choice. The house and garage would suffice. Anyway, the nasty weather would probably keep some reunionees away. Hope for that scenario mingled with sadness that our group might be quite small after all.

A Full House and Full Hearts

But, they came, and came, and came. Dashing into the house carrying delicious-looking dishes of food and wearing big smiles, they greeted us with hugs and appreciation for finally getting the family together. The weather, it seemed, had dampened only the spirits of the

reunion planners, but not those of the reunion attendees. The food tables filled to the max, and people happily squished into the garage and most every downstairs corner of the remodeled old farmhouse. The extra tables set up in the garage left narrow aisles for walking, but no one complained. The “memories table” in the living room was difficult to maneuver, but folks found it and didn’t seem to mind.

After the meal, all but those who couldn’t be pulled away from the toys in the family room gathered in the standing-room-only garage for introductions that went beyond the “Hello, my name is...” nametags donned upon arrival. Before the recording lens of the video camera, spouses, children, and grandchildren were proudly introduced—the youngest among the crowd snatched from their play to momentarily take center stage.

We Did It, and It Was Worth It

An exact count proved impossible as people wandered from room to room and from house to garage, laughing and chatting, reminiscing and enjoying each other’s company. The very atmosphere we’d so hoped to create. Visiting continued late into the afternoon before reluctant goodbyes were uttered, followed by sincere promises of future get-togethers. “Let’s not let so many years go by again,” summed up the parting sentiment of the entire group.

We had worried for nothing. Despite a hesitant beginning, dreadful weather, cramped conditions, and a cold oven, the day proved to be everything we had hoped for.  

Oh, how happy and grateful I was that we hadn’t let doubts and logistical concerns keep us from gathering the family together for a special day of sharing and remembering. Now, even more than before, I hold to the belief that people who are related should know each other.

Beth Steury is a genealogist and author who writes The DNA Sleuth column for Senior Living.