Christmas and Family

Yesterday was Christmas. I've created a tradition of cooking the holiday meal for my family - whoever happens to be around at the time. Aunts, Uncles, cousins - friends of the family; whoever. It began long ago, even before Steve left, but it became even stronger after that. Family are those people in this world who know us best, despite our quirks, oddities, dysfunctions. My family are no different than every other family, except they are mine, and I am theirs - we are each other in so many ways, and different in so many others. My family, I am grateful to say, treat me with warmth, affection - love, above all. They make me feel special and appreciated. It makes my heart so happy and full. My husband did not love me enough to stay in spite of the fact I gave my marriage and our life together my entire heart and soul - for over 20 years. It was not enough for him, sadly. It was for many years, but in the long run it ended up just not enough. When the best of what you have; who you are; of everything you have to give is not enough, it is soul shattering. I was broken into a million pieces. But my friends and my family helped stitch me together. They rally around me still, and they succeed in showing me that I am worthy of love; of appreciation. Family are the root of who we are. We are born into each other forever, even if we sometimes try, we cannot lose those bonds. I am so fortunate to be part of a huge network of aunts, uncles - cousins. My father was blessed with 12 siblings, and all together there are over 40 of first cousins. They all have so much to do with who I am today. Thank you, God.

When we were growing up, my cousins and I, the majority of us spent Christmas evening together. We had huge Fields family gatherings all together at my grandfathers house; the house my father and all of his siblings grew up in; It was huge, dark, old, and it was the old homestead on the corner of Bridge and Homestead in Phoenix, New York. The old wooden house burned in the mid 70s and my uncle, who lived with Grandpa at the time, bought a new double wide modular home for them both to live in. The house was placed on the same old foundation, and the basement was still the same. The new house was much smaller, but we all still gathered in that house - 13 older siblings and spouses, all their offspring; friends of the family - it was a chaotic, frantic mess; 60 plus adults and children in one modular home for the evening! I can still remember the feel of all those bodies in one place, turning sideways to get by people, the noise, the heat - the smells; the feeling of completely belonging to each other, despite the chaos. The tables, kitchen - every surface was laden with food, drinks, presents, coats, hats, boots, scarves. My cousins and I still talk of those old days with warmth and passion - those were the days that formed so many of us. We gathered at Grandpa's on Christmas night, in each other's houses throughout the year for birthdays, graduations, weddings, births - deaths. We gathered at the lake for family reunions for weekends of celebrations. We gathered and we celebrated all of life's moments together, good and bad. There were arguments, laughter, loud voices, laps to sit on, necks to hug. There were copious amount of food, alcohol, coffee - cigarette smoke. There was always such a welcoming air and presence to all of our family gatherings, and there still are. Even as the Fields family grows and expands, that core group dwindles and the special gatherings are never as loud or large or intense, but they are still special. I think that is one of the reasons that I started having family gatherings here at my house - a longing for those far off gatherings at home in Phoenix. After I left home for Florida and Steve and I began our own holiday traditions, part of me always longed for those huge family events. I missed so many of them living so far from home. I know that as my cousins and I grew into adulthood our parents began slipping away from us, one by one, and the heart and soul of our family shrank little by little with each death, Now all that is left of my many aunts and uncles are the youngest two; my dad and my Uncle Gary. Aunt Betty and Aunt Carol are two of the spouses left to us, and we treasure the four of them, each and every one of us. We can never recreate our past, but those formative years stay with us. I think my holiday celebrations now are a way to pay homage to those days of youth, and as a way to say thank you to all of my family, far and wide - for being my family, for being part of my tribe; for loving me and for allowing me to love back. Family is the heart and soul of who we are, always.

Thank you, Amber, for creating this video of Chrismas Past -
Fields Family Christmas

Black Lake, New York

July 1, 2015 Black Lake, NY

Here I am. The summers of my youth spent here – long beautiful sunny, summer days; long rainy damp days spent reading, listening to music, spending time with my sisters or my cousins – my family all around. Sometimes friends would come up here with us, but mostly it was all family. The memories we made are precious, and all of us remember different moments. For so many of us, it is our happy place, and we are so blessed that we can still go “home” to our memories, both physically and mentally.

Today I woke to the rain. A lot of rain. Right now, several hours later, the rain has let up, but a cool, fresh breeze blows. The birds are singing, the crows are cawing out back in the fields. The water, higher right now because of spring thaws and decent amounts of rain, laps against and over the dock and against the shore. Across the lagoon, to the Point, as we always called it, the water level is still below where it was for so many years. Old moss and lichen stretch upward, away from the water, and two old row boats, upside down, are partially submerged, the water causing a popping sound that echoes across the lagoon as it gently knocks underneath the boats. Last year my dad had the Amish build a wonderful porch on the front, or lakeside, of the house. It spans from one end to the other. At first my sisters and I were a little skeptical – it sounded like a monstrosity. I am the first to see it, and I admit, I like it very much. It allows much more outdoor time than ever before. The old deck was not covered, and when it rained, getting outside involved huddling under umbrellas. Now being outside is a luxury I am really liking a lot. There are tons of chairs, hanging chairs, tables, etc. that make it such a wonderful addition.

Earlier I could hear the mournful sound of a barge out on the St. Lawrence River, which is about 10 miles north, and runs parallel to Black Lake. I am hearing, across the lake, the steady clip clop of an Amish horse and buggy on Hwy 37. At this point, the lake is roughly about ¾ of a mile across, my best guess, but sound travels over the water, and the wind almost always blows this way (south). There is some automobile traffic I can also hear, as people travel to and from Hammond to Ogdensburg, or any point in between. We live on the south side of the lake, on the eastern end. Although we are not exactly in the middle, there is a good distance of lake on either end. The eastern end runs toward the Oswegatchie River, although it is pretty tough to travel the distance by boat; the lake becomes shallow and grass takes over. This lake was formed eons ago by the movement of the glaciers. Most of the rocks bear the scars of glacial scratches. As kids that was thrilling, but also commonplace to us. Now I can appreciate the beauty and significance of that. Some people really never have the opportunity to experience such a thing.