Field of Dreams... and Memories

I may have married into a farm family, but when it comes to down home family reunions, my family reigns supreme. There's no picnic shelter at the public park for us. We have built it (a campground in the barnyard) and they come (80+ this year).

My family is not so much about farming--Grandpa's farm hasn't seen pigs, cows or tobacco fields since the 60s--but about plumbing. So, of course, our country campground features an open-topped hand-made portable shower, with dressing room and hot water heater.


And in case you think we're all high-end RV'ers, we do have a tent section too.

We spend an entire weekend together and have developed many traditions, including a golf outing, hayride, games for the kids with golden toilet plungers as prizes, two big meals under our own tent, four White Mountain Freezers of homemade ice cream, and a pinata for the kids.

Over the past 19 years, this weekend in July has become the time to introduce boyfriends, share family gossip, exclaim over new babies, fight over Aunt Sandy's coconut cream pie, and renew the bonds of second cousin-hood.

Sadly, my Grandparents are planning a move to a smaller place, which could spell the end of the Family Campout. Somehow I think that we will emerge from this change with new innovations, new family fun, and new traditions. But our Field of Dreams will stay with us always. And if my Grandparents even understood the Internet, I would take the opportunity to tell them here: Thanks for the memories.