reunion – Roadkill Crossing

Basking in the Joy: A Family Reunited

I gladly handed over my iPhone to the ticket-taker at the Van Gogh Immersive Experience in Washington, D.C. We had only just gathered everyone together at the entrance when she had offered to take our family photo, an image I dearly wanted.

It had been four years since the three families had all been together, and in that time, another grandchild had joined our ranks. Our two oldest grandsons had never met the youngest. I wanted this precious moment to be documented for perpetuity. As mobile as today’s societies are, especially the younger generations, I wasn’t taking any chances. I considered the family photograph as my personalized Father’s Day present.

As it turned out, this was the only photo of all of us together at the same place at the same time we got in the three-day gathering in our nation’s capital. The comings and goings of our active crew mirrored the busy lives of our adult children, their spouses, and teenagers. I certainly wasn’t disappointed.

I had my shot and could now relax into the follow-the-crowd mode. The other adults, our daughter, son, son-in-law, and daughter-in-law, would share the responsibility of setting the agenda for the Sunday through Tuesday reunion. I’m usually the one to suggest and plan trips. However, this time I silently relished my grandfatherly role. Though not surprised, I marveled at their skills in managing offspring, arranging transportation, and finding restaurants to suit everyone.

Of course, they consulted Nana and Poppy about places we wanted to go, do, visit, and tour. I was more than happy to go with the flow. Shoot. I would have been pleased if we had stayed in the hotel. A certain familial satisfaction overcame me.

The pandemic played a significant role in keeping us apart all this while. Our son, his wife, and the newest grandson, Teddy, live in upstate New York, a seven-hour drive from the lovely Shenandoah Valley, where my wife and I live. We moved there six years ago from our home of 38 years in Ohio’s Amish country to be close to our daughter and her family.

Teddy arrived over a year ago, complicating our Nana and Poppy roles. Our son and his wife have done an exceptional job keeping us informed of Teddy’s progress, and we travel north as we can.

But here we all were, assembled together. Everyone agreed to make the Van Gogh experience our initial group event. The New Yorkers intended to take the Metro from Dulles International Airport to the hotel. Due to track maintenance, that plan got derailed. It took them longer to get from the airport to the hotel than from Rochester to Dulles.

With air temperatures heating up, the Van Gogh Immersion became the perfect place to chill and smother Teddy with plenty of attention. To enhance the experience, lounge chairs, bean bags, small ottomans, and blankets were scattered around the gymnasium-sized, carpeted room. We all found our relaxation niche and enjoyed the show. Teddy loved showing off his newly found walking and running skills. The rest of us merely basked in the moments as they unfolded.

That was plenty for the first day. Returning to the hotel, we ordered dinner from a local pizzeria. We found the perfect place to hold a pizza party and enjoy each other’s company, the building’s rooftop. I relished the lively chatter, the food, and the cityscape views. We finished the day with gelato and a rousing game of cards with the teens. It was a balance we all needed to complete the day.

We walked a mile in the morning’s coolness the next day for a delicious breakfast spread. The portions were so large that only the teens cleaned their plates. We stayed so long that the day’s heat had already begun as we worked our way toward the National Mall. It was Juneteenth, and we had tickets for the National Museum of African American History and Culture. We wanted the youngsters to see first-hand the sad history of how African Americans arrived in this country and what they endured in slavery, the Jim Crow era, and the present. The chronology began on the lower floors, and we worked our way up in small groups. Is there another choice when you have a toddler and septuagenarians in the same family? We didn’t have time to do the outstanding museum justice.

We exited into the early afternoon heat and humidity commonplace for D.C. summer days. Teddy’s parents found a refreshment truck parked near some massive shade trees, and the rest of us soon joined them for some shaved ice and smoothies. Nana was in her glory feeding Teddy some of her cool mango drink. Teddy’s eager reaction showed his gratitude.

A short walk brought us to the World War II Memorial in the shadow of the Washington Monument and at the reflecting pool’s eastern end. I spied a group of Amish circling the memorial’s parameter and recognized the older leader. Unfortunately, I was too far away to say hello.

We continued walking west to the Lincoln Memorial for the older grandkids to experience. Before we left the area, we pointed out the impressive yet solemn Vietnam War Memorial from a distance.

By now, everyone was tired, and we headed back to the hotel via three modes of transportation. Some of us took an Uber, while two adventurous teens followed their father to the Metro. Since Teddy needed a nap, his parents chose to push the stroller three miles.

With the day’s heat and humidity, we were glad for the hotel’s air conditioning in which to rest. However, the teenagers all wanted to play cards, a vacation tradition since they were young. We ordered burgers from a local restaurant and reclaimed the hotel’s rooftop. The banter and passing around Teddy put a punctuation mark on a fulfilling day. The games played on, but we seniors called it a night, our hearts full.

As I settled in for the night, I reflected on the day’s interactions. Everyone we met, hotel, restaurant, museum staff, and Uber drivers, were engaging and courteous. They made this country boy feel right at home in the city.

The adults headed for a lighter breakfast than the previous day while the teens slept in. Afterward, they had to be awakened to say goodbye to Teddy and his parents, who had to leave for their return flight. We hugged and kissed and thanked them for making the trip, and then they were gone.

Those that remained returned to the monument area. Our first stop was the Jefferson Memorial. The day was warm again, but a steady east wind made it bearable.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

We walked to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial, which my late father truly enjoyed when I first visited it with him as part of an Honor Flight for World War II veterans. I told the grandkids how their great-grandfather, who used a wheelchair, nearly rose to his feet when he saw the statues of the longest-serving president. Dad even knew the name of Roosevelt’s dog, which also had an oversized bronze.

The Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial stood a short walk away. We were a few months late for the blooming of the famous cherry trees along the path. The impressive King Memorial faced the Jefferson Memorial across the choppy basin. From there, we strolled to the Korean War Memorial. With its platoon of soldier statues, the setting gives you pause about the futility of war.

It was time to head home. We retraced our steps through the FDR Memorial and back to the van. As we rolled south down the interstate, I enjoyed the commotion of the card games with Nana and teenage grandchildren in the back seats. I was happy to have my son-in-law drive and most grateful for our joyous times together.

We had so much fun that we had already made tentative plans for next year’s get-together. In the meantime, I’ll bask in the joyous afterglow of our little family’s reunion.

The pagoda stands amid the cherry trees with the Jefferson Memorial in the background. Photo © Bruce Stambaugh 2023.

When the cousins all gathered

Fun and genuine comaraderie ensued

Finally, it happened. The six Rohrer cousins were in the same room at the same time.

We originally intended to gather on April 30, 2020. Of course, that wasn’t possible with the pandemic raging. That didn’t discourage us, however.

The cousins all made it a priority to Zoom every two weeks until we could meet again in the flesh. Spouses often joined in. Stories, old photographs, and laughter filled each session.

But it wasn’t the same as being there with one another. In the cousins’ formative years, the Linder, Miller, and Rohrer families all lived in northeast Ohio, no more than an easy drive from one another.

As the five women and one male married, fulfilled careers, and reared children, we dispersed into different locales, including other states. The trend even continued when we all retired.

Cousin Barb lives in southern California. Her sister Brenda moved from Ohio to North Carolina to be close to her granddaughters.

Pastor Larry and his wife moved from northern Indiana back to her family farm near Dover. His little sister Cathy and her husband settled in her home community of Columbiana.

My wife’s sister Audrey and her husband Bob have spent most of their lives in their beautiful home with envious views near Sugarcreek, where we agreed to meet. Of course, my wife Neva and I relocated from our beloved Holmes County to Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, also to be close to grandchildren.

The timing of this cousin reunion revolved around two criteria. First, we all needed to feel comfortable that it was indeed safe to gather together. We were mindful of the ravages of the Delta variant of the coronavirus even though we were all vaccinated.

The second element was when cousin Barb could fly in from California. Once she finally solidified her travel plans, we settled on a date to meet. We all headed to Sugarcreek for a day of frivolity, childhood memories, and remembrances of parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents.

Of course, we started the day with food, a carry-in style brunch that provided plenty of options to stay fueled for the next few hours. Our hosts had everything perfectly arranged.

We met around tables in the airy garage since we’re all vaccinated baby boomers, some with compromised immune systems. Neva and I had taken along games, but the dominoes and cards never saw the light of day.

We were too satisfied with finally being together that nothing was going to interfere with the free-flowing fellowship. We listened, laughed, and basked in the wonders of our lives.

From a non-blood relative perspective, it seemed to me that these were more siblings than cousins. Close, supportive families are a rare treasure today.

Preacher Larry captured our attention with family stories and photos. And our hosts even had a repurposed festive fall-themed Christmas tree for decoration.

I admired the genuine appreciation and interest the cousins showed to one another. Retired preacher Larry shared snippets of genealogical discoveries that he had made.

I marveled at the life that each of these good people has lived, is living. Their vocations and avocations, their service, and their faithful commitment to family, friends, church, and one another comprised their lives.

Respect for another was paramount. It’s a character seemingly forgotten in today’s divisive world.

The group got a pleasant surprise before I left to pick up the pizzas from a local pizzeria. A niece and her husband arrived from Michigan to join the party.

With only two slices of pizza left, it was photo time. We took shots of the group, couples, and siblings. And then, it was time to say farewell for now.

To both witness and participate in this manifestation of familial love brought pure delight.

Hugs worth the wait

A pandemic inconvenience

Sodus Point Lighthouse, Sodus Point, NY. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

My wife and I had waited two years for these hugs. When we finally embraced our son and his wife, all seemed right with the world again.

We knew we were not alone. Necessary health restrictions continue to keep millions of global people apart.

So, we felt fortunate to travel from central Virginia to upstate New York finally. The scenery was magnificent. The traffic not so much.

The road to Rochester, New York, was a long and winding one. With the heatwave, it was a hot one, too.

Though the city is due north of our home in the Shenandoah Valley, there is no easy way to get there. We can thank the old, folded Appalachian Mountains for that. The lush, forested mountains contrasted with the ripening grain fields we saw.

One highway closely followed the picturesque Susquehanna River part of the way. We even passed through central Pennsylvania’s Amish country. Hand-painted signs advertising quilts and produce reminded me of our beloved Holmes County, Ohio, home of the world’s largest Amish population, and where we used to live.

Upper left to right; The Sam Patch tour boat on the Erie Canal; Williamsport, PA; 100-acre pond; Male Eastern Bluebird; a hike on a hot and humid day.

For us, the mini-reunion was especially sweet. Unable to travel in June 2020, we had to watch our son’s street wedding on Zoom. It wasn’t what we wanted, but what we had to do.

Since the specifics of each state’s pandemic policies and restrictions were unique, we had to be patient to see our son and his bride in person. According to the guidelines, they couldn’t come to us from New York State, and we couldn’t visit them from Virginia.

That all changed once the vaccines became available. Our son and daughter-in-law got vaccinated just as we did. With both states relaxing restrictions due to declining infection numbers, we finally set a date to trek north.

Our daughter-in-law teaches middle school English, and her academic year didn’t end until the last week of June. That worked out perfectly for us. We may have missed their wedding, but we would be there to help celebrate their first anniversary.

And celebrate we did! With the heatwave in progress, however, we scaled back the planned outdoor activities. Still, we enjoyed a pleasant boat ride on the Erie Canal and took anniversary photos at a quaint lighthouse on Lake Ontario.

Food enthusiasts that they are, Nathan and Jess, arranged meals at some excellent restaurants. We were even able to eat outside in the evening’s shade. We savored the food and conversation and watched people stroll along city sidewalks.

We visited a park and toured a wildlife rehabilitation center. A refreshing breeze cooled us as we sat on benches overlooking a 100-acre pond. Before we left, we hugged some more.

Yes, we were inconvenienced all those months by the pandemic and the health restrictions needed to deter it. But with those embraces, all of the pent-up stress evaporated into the steamy air.

Yet, there was more. With each hug, I had to think about all those who haven’t yet had the same opportunity. I also thought about all those thousands upon thousands of mourning folks who would never be able to hug their lost loved ones taken by the pandemic’s virulence.

My wife and I were more than rewarded by merely being with our son and his wife. We were most grateful.

As I drove home, it hit me that the long and winding road to Rochester served as a metaphor for the horrific pandemic. The approaches and responses to the coronavirus have taken many twists and turns since its emergence in December 2019.

Hopefully, science will straighten those pandemic curves soon. Meanwhile, I’ll cherish every hug I get.

Tioga River Valley, Tioga, PA. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Make any day a good day

By Bruce Stambaugh

I had driven this route many times in the past. Usually, it started in the early morning twilight and ended in the glare of the afternoon sun, if I didn’t have a meeting after school.

I served as principal at two of the nicest elementary schools anyone could hope for or conjure. I loved my job at Mt. Hope and Winesburg schools.

An emotional funk had overtaken me, and I needed a spiritual pick me up. Those former school days mentally surfaced, so I called the man who had replaced me 17 years ago. Dan was more than happy to show me around the schools where I once whistled my way down the halls. It had been years since I last graced them.

With our impending move to Virginia set for next spring, I knew I needed to start reconnecting with folks and places that had played such important roles in my life, professionally and personally. The schools were on that list.

That’s how I came to retrace the roads I took for 21 years every school day. I knew every turn, hill, and valley.

I made Mt. Hope my first stop. Dan greeted me at the front door after I pushed the security buzzer, a necessary addition since the Nickel Mines shooting 10 years ago in Lancaster Co., Pennsylvania.

Dan escorted me around the building that I knew so well. Physically, not much had changed. The staff and pupils, however, had. I soon found familiarity and links to the past.

Dan asked the students in each class how many of their parents had gone to Mt. Hope School. I was astonished at how many hands flew up. We went pupil by pupil to see if I could remember their folks.

To my amazement, and theirs as well, I remembered their parents and grandparents, where they lived, and even a few first names. When the school is full of Yoders and Millers, that’s not an easy task.

My reunions with Jerry the librarian, Jim the teacher, and Nettie the cook brought smiles to my face, stirred my soul and filled me with compassion for their career commitments to nurturing children.

My age hit me square in the face when I met the custodian of both schools, Brandon, a former student. He was too busy to talk much, but his handshake spoke volumes. The school sparkled as brightly as his eyes.

Holmes Co. OH — A view around every turn.

More memories resurfaced while driving the five miles between Mt. Hope and Winesburg. There still is no bar or golf course in between. The road was still bumpy, the views still pristine. Corn shocks stood in the same fields they had all those years ago.

At Winesburg, I found the school just as clean and hospitable as Mt. Hope. I was glad to see many of the same staff members I had worked with and hired before I retired. We hugged and shared heartfelt recollections.

The storyline with the students also repeated. The eagerness of the youngsters to name their parents buoyed me. Some I identified by family name just from their physical features. When a student said who her mother was, I said, “Oh, yes. I remember. Carie with one “r.” I’ll never forget the beam on that young face.

This uplifting experience had been a morning to remember for me. All this human interaction freed me from my gloominess. It gave me hope that any day, no matter how trying, can be a good day.

I just had to take the initiative. The children and friends did the rest.

sunrise, Ohio's Amish Country — A new dawn.

An international rendezvous

By Bruce Stambaugh

When a friend learned that I was traveling across the border to the Niagara Falls region in Canada, she lightheartedly instructed me not to create any international incidents. She need not have worried.

My wife and I traversed a bridge over the churning Niagara River for peaceful purposes only. We had scheduled a reunion with some Ontario friends. The historic town of Niagara-on-the-Lake served as the point of rendezvous.

As it turned out, it was the ideal spot for our gathering, especially given the historical implications of the town and our connections with our acquaintances. We had known one couple, Ken and Ruth, for years. The other friends, neighbors to Ken and Ruth, we had met only last winter in Fernandina Beach, Florida of all places.

historictownbybrucestambaugh — A typical scene in Niagara-on-the-Lake, ON. © Bruce Stambaugh 2014.

Ken and Ruth’s neighbors just happened to winter on Amelia Island, Florida. Knowing that we spent part of the winter there as well, Ruth suggested we meet up with Don and Gail. What a blessed suggestion it was, too.

Neva and I immediately hit it off with them. Just like we did with Ken and Ruth, we shared common interests, and enjoyed each other’s company and conversation.

After touring the historic Niagara town and enjoying a lovely lunch, we sat on two benches, men on one, women on the other, just like three old couples would in a park. That’s probably because we were three old couples, and we were in a park.

Old, of course, is a relative term. We were all grandparents, but to hear us cackling on that glorious day, we more likely resembled teenagers. Life has those golden moments you know. When it does, you want to harvest their nurturing bounty.

Sitting under those giant shade trees, we laughed, inquired, listened, observed, and pondered what life had brought us, and would bring us still. It’s what good friends do no matter what nationality.

friendlystrangersbybrucestambaugh — Friendly strangers. © Bruce Stambaugh 2014.

The setting, Queen’s Royal Park, seemed more than appropriate. Located along the town’s waterfront where the mouth of the Niagara River opened into Lake Ontario, sailboats, fishing boats and speedboats glided by.

On the opposite shore stood historic Old Fort Niagara in Youngstown, New York. This particular location had been the scene of many battles since the 18th century. We had a clear view of the impressive fort, and heard muskets fired during a battle reenactment.

Multi-nationalities had claimed these lands and waterways over the centuries. Native Americans, French, English, and Americans had all fought for this once strategic military position.

circleoffriendsbybrucestambaugh — This circle of colorful chairs in a side yard near the park symbolized our gathering. © Bruce Stambaugh 2014.

Though our little group represented several countries, our meeting was more than congenial. Among the six of us, one was born in England, one Bermuda, two in Ontario, and my wife and I in Ohio.

Our weapon of choice was sarcasm. I blamed the cool, wet summer weather on imaginary Ontario icebergs. My friends returned volleys of witticisms of their own. No injuries resulted from the friendly bantering.

During any visit to the Niagara Falls region, the global attraction to this magnetic place is obvious. We encountered cultural dress, various native languages, and many ethnicities wherever we went.

When we asked a stranger with a Caribbean accent to take photographs of our group, he gladly obliged. I wasn’t surprised. He and his companions were enjoying the same fair weather, agreeable setting and pleasing vistas as us. It was the perfect recipe for an amicable afternoon reunion of international friends all around.

The only significant shots we fired were with our cameras.