My grandparents were long gone by now—my grandfather had died in the 1930s and my grandmother when I was little—but they were still palpably present in the gathering this year, in 1988, as they had been at every other reunion for this family that I’d attended. They were the organizing and defining principle of this remarkable group of individuals—fourteen original children, all but two of whom married and had children, so that I had a huge number of cousins, some of whom were old enough to be an aunt or uncle (my mother was the baby of the family), and including second and eventually third cousins. Or first cousins once and twice removed. Or whatever. Lots of relatives! Scattered all over.

 

 

Romaine, Pauline, and Nadine had been born to my grandfather’s first wife, who died when she was young. We never got the story of why she died, and this is all I can glean from her obituary: “ROACH. Anna B. Roach, 24 years, 9 months, died at Carthage, Missouri, October 13, 1895. It is with a sad heart that we record the death of one known and loved by all, and who but a short time ago was a happy girl in our midst. Still in life’s mourning with all that is brightest and best at her command and the future full of brilliant promise, she was taken from us. The caresses of her little children, the tender care of devoted parents, and a loving husband; all availed naught beside the decree of the master – ‘come up higher.’”

 

Perhaps no one knew. And there did seem to be quite a bit of TB going around then, if other obits from that time are any indication.

 

In fact, her brother died four years later, and this is his story: “McCLURE. Died, at the residence of his parents in this city, Sunday, 26 Oct 1889, at 6:45 p.m., James F. McClure, aged 21 years, 1 month and 14 days. Tuesday afternoon at the M.E. church the last sad rites were paid to the memory of our young friend, James F. McClure … It is with much sadness that we are called upon to record the death of so model a young man as James McClure. Just passed the year of his manhood, with the brightest of prospects before him, it seems very hard to think that he should be taken from our midst. James was a boy with many friends, you had but to know him to love him … Being offered a good position in Deighton, Kansas, he accepted it and was doing well, but his health failing him, he came home last spring with consumption marked on his brow. He lingered along all summer never seeming discouraged, but always looking upon the bright side. Everything that could be done for him was done but he gradually sank away becoming weaker every day until at last he was gone.”

 

 

At any rate, Pauline and Nadine were old enough that my sibs and I never really got to know them, but we would sometimes visit Pauline in Indiana on our way up to Lake Michigan, where my dad’s parents had a cottage. Nadine lived in Jefferson City, where the family had lived while Grandfather served as state senator and then Secretary of State. When Celestine grew up, she moved to New Mexico, married to a professor of animal sciences, one of the foremost sheep experts in the world when he was alive.

 

Cornelius, or “Corny,” as we knew him, became quite wealthy, in part from helping to found one of the very first mutual funds with the firm Waddell and Reed. He was a lawyer and once argued a case in front of the Supreme Court. (Many years later, in a poignant reminder of what a humbling leveler aging can be, my uncle was suffering from the family affliction of dementia, and my mother saw him out walking in his neighborhood while she was driving by. She stopped to say hello and he looked at her with no recognition whatsoever. “It’s your sister, Emily,” she told him. “Well, how should I know!” was his reply.) My main memory of him was the fact that not only did he live in a mansion in one of the nicest parts of town, he also had a house that was just for parties. We’d have the Roach family Christmas party at Uncle Corny and Aunt Lee’s. My cousin Randy and I would eat all the red and green M&Ms and peruse the Roald Dahl books that were lying around. Aunt Lee was famous for having a battery-operated apron that sported a Christmas tree decorated with lights. She would always wait until midway into the evening, then disappear, don the apron, and come sashaying back in to great laughter and applause, every single time, year after year.

 

 

 

The twins, Ann and Cay, were amazing athletes, and two of the topmost-scoring female basketball players in the country when they were in high school. They played on the same team, and being identical twins, they always knew exactly where the other one was, even without looking. In addition, they were two of the first people ever to water ski, as the inventor was looking for someone athletic and adventuresome to try them out and somehow got in touch with my aunts. My aunt Cay lived in Wichita, so I didn’t see as much of her when I was growing up, but my aunt Annie lived just a few blocks away, and as her son Randy was just my age, I spent a lot of time at her house. She was like a second mom, a killer cook, made the best iced tea ever conjured by a mortal, and had a ribald sense of humor that continually exasperated my prim mother. We were very close to all our cousins in this family and loved the physical proximity.

 

By now, the majority of the fourteen “reasons” had died, and only my mother, the twins Ann and Cay, my aunt Connie, and uncle Emmett remained. It was a little weird, actually, having had SO many aunts and uncles when I was growing up. But there were plenty of the next generation at the reunion. My sister Cathy was there from England, and my brother Hal, and both favorite cousins and ones I barely knew. My mom and dad were there, looking dapper and vital. One of my cousins at the main event tried to get the assembled crowd to sing, “We are the Roaches, mighty, mighty Roaches!” but no one would.

 

So it was a treat, to have not only the antique show taking place, but this reunion as well. Once it was all over, I spent some time back in Redding getting my driver’s license replaced, where the DMV woman was very nice and very sympathetic, especially when she heard that I got my purse snatched in the big city. The credit cards were very slow in coming in, though, which was a pain. And one day, the first one finally arrived. In my joy to have one in my possession again, I forgot to sign the back of it, and the first time I used it, the clerk almost took it away from me in order to destroy it. But I think she could tell that if she had attempted such a thing, I was going to climb over the conveyor belt and retrieve it by any means necessary. And I might be little, but I’ve got some weasel in me.

 

Then we were off to San Diego to build a deck for my sweet brother. A small one, he said. One that we could attach to the existing foundation for the second-story deck above it. So there would be no foundation work. Nor stairs. I wasn’t feeling all that confident about building stairs. And I knew how brutal foundation work could be.

 

But somehow the plans morphed in the making … .