Big Red Ball

 When we were children we’d all pack into the car and make the trip from North Collins to the East side of Buffalo to visit my grandparents on my Mom’s side.

The car ride in and of itself was a real trip. Eight of us packed into the station wagon, kicking and screaming all the way. Mom and Dad up front, smoking cigarettes and talking.

Those hour long trips stay stuck in my mind and I can even recall where everyone sat. 

Very often, my cousins from Rochester were also making the trip in and we’d get there around the same time and we’d meet in the backyard where Grandpa had drinks for us. There was a big red kickball and a long white fence that would cover the gap between the neighbors yard and grandpa’s home. So the ball wouldn’t make it to the street.

We’d have epic kickball games that usually ended in a fight...

...but it didn’t matter much.

We went inside for huge dinners.

The table was massive. 16 people all spread around. The dishes flying from one side to another. I can’t even imagine how much food was cooked.

I do remember my Uncle Tom at those gatherings, and I’m thinking of him a lot this weekend because he’s in the hospital and he’s in the end stages of Alzheimer’s. My cousins sent me an update and the old memories flooded in.

There were long walks around the neighborhood with Grandpa Clifford. It was usually me and him back then. 

“Us Cliffs must stick together.”

The last time I saw my Uncle was at the funeral parlor for Dad’s wake.

I couldn’t believe how much he looked like Grandpa. I was saddened by the fact that he looked straight through me.

I recognized that look in Grandpa’s eyes towards the end of his life. I saw it again in my mother-in-laws eyes.

It’s a horrific disease...

...and I pray for my cousins (and my aunt) as they face these last days.

I’m thankful for the memories...

...the wonderful dinners...

...and that big red ball.