Family Ties

This past Sunday, my immediate family decided to get together for brunch at the home of the youngest relative. I stress immediate family because there are only four of us directly descended from my grandmother. With spouses, there are 6. We do have a host of cousins who are definitely important to my story (not this story, but my story, nonetheless, lol.). We haven’t really been together as a family since my grandmother’s funeral. Thanks worldwide pandemic.

Sometimes it’s a little lonely when I think about the fact that I am the only person left in my direct familial line. I mean, I do have a sister with whom I share a father, but no parents or grandparents. And my sister lives almost 3,000 miles away. (Although my aunt and I are so much alike, that my wife often jokes that she believes that my aunt is really my mother). But I am comforted by the knowledge that my aunt loves me unconditionally.

There were two highlights of this get together (in addition to the high comedy that always ensues when we are together) that sparked this blog post, both provided to me by my aunt.

As additional background, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that I had an uncle who passed away on his senior class trip in March 1973. He was caught in an undertow while swimming in Puerto Rico, a full three years before I was born. By all accounts, my uncle was brilliant, compassionate and generally a kind soul. He had earned admission to both Harvard and UNC Chapel Hill. Although he played football and basketball (apparently he was 6’4”) and was also offered athletic scholarships to several other schools, he chose to accept a full academic scholarship instead to attend UNC.

My uncle attended the Gilman School for high school and was a recipient of a scholarship from BEST (the Baltimore Educational Scholarship Trust). I sometimes felt like I was growing up in the shadow of this person I never met. I received that same scholarship to attend Bryn Mawr starting in 6th grade. Maybe it was something in how my grandparents raised us. I’m not sure it was on purpose, but everyone in my immediate family attended a single sex high school. After visiting Bryn Mawr, I’m glad my grandparents respected my feelings and declined the scholarship. Honestly, I don’t recall what reason I gave them, but what stands out for me was that I didn’t want to wear the shirt skirted uniform.

Anywho, about the highlights.

This year marks the 50th reunion of the class of 1973. A friend of my uncle reached out to my aunt to invite a member of the family to the reunion. I will be attending the class memorial service during the reunion. Since I never met my uncle, all I know of him is from stories of those who loved and cherished him. I’m rather looking forward to meeting some of his classmates.

The second highlight came when my aunt inquired as to whether I was missing my high school class ring. I don’t regret many things in life, but one that I have often regretted was making the bad decision to purchase a non-traditional class ring.

One thing about my mother, in her later years as she was battling mental illness, she lived in a lot of different places. (Writing this makes me realize that I don’t think I’ve ever written about my mother struggles with mental illness, something I’ll talk about another time.) During one of her many moves, I found her class ring in a small wooden box and asked her if I could have it, since she hadn’t known where it was before I found it anyway. She told me no, but she would leave it to me. In her own way, my mother was both sentimental and…I don’t have a word for what else she was. I can better give an example. She used to make me renew her nursing license each year, long after she stopped practicing, because she was proud to have earned it. She held onto things.

When she passed, I was unable to bring myself to retrieve her items from her last residence. I also was not aware at the time that they only kept things for a short amount of time. Once I was able to bring myself to go get them, the items were already gone. I always assumed that her ring was amongst the things that had been disposed of because I never saw it again after the day I found it.

The only thing I could come up with was that it must be my mothers ring that my aunt found amongst my grandmother’s possessions. My mother and I attended the same high school (as did two younger cousins, my wife, and my mother-in-law). After further conversation, my aunt recalled seeing ‘67 on the side of the ring.

While I know exactly where my high school and my college rings are located, I rarely wear them. They are both gold, but my wedding band is titanium. they don’t exactly match. I never previously consider myself the sentimental type, but I’m pretty sure that I’m going to wear this ring. I think it is the family connection that I need right now.