The idea of a family reunion is foreign to me. My mom and dad had two siblings apiece and I have nine first cousins. On top of that, there is only one family that is not local, so a family reunion for me means Sunday dinner, and if I wanted to see one of them, I would just drive over.

Greg on the other hand, has a very extensive family on each side. This past weekend, we attended part of three day event known as Danaher family reunion. There were relatives there that Greg had never even met before and apparently a Kentucky sect, a Vermont sect and a Pennsylvanian sect all in attendance. Danahers are proud Irish folk and the party had been well underway since the a.m. Greg and I finally showed up at around 9:00 p.m.

Upon arriving, we weaved through the crowd and mingled and noshed. The first person I ran into was little Jo Jo, Greg’s cousin, perhaps three or four, wearing his oversized “Danaher Family Reunion” shirt that came down to his knees. So cute until he calmly walked past me holding a 24 oz. aluminum Guinness can, crushed it in the can crushing device and threw the can out. Then I had to ask, “Little Jo Jo, um…where did you get that 24 oz. Guinness?” (Maybe it was because I was jealous.)

Other observations:
• There were two life-size cardboard cutouts of great grandma and great grandpop Danaher. Greg’s mom told us that because they couldn’t find full body pictures of great grandma Danaher, the photo place cut and pasted on a set of legs. And admittedly, great grandma Danaher’s legs and open-toed heels looked pretty good.
• In the garage, there is a wooden sign that has been there for years and years and years that reads “‘Harely’ Davidson Motorcyles” (spelled with a “HARE” in there) directly under a metal sign that reads “‘Harley’ Davidson Motorcycles” (spelled like the way the motorcycle company intended)
• I think I committed a Danaher family reunion foopah by walking through the dueling guitars concert in the dining room.
• We found Dan (Greg’s mom’s boyfriend) in the living room embedded in a couch. When he greeted us “hello,” he whispered to us the statement “I’ve been here for 24 hours already.”
• Everyone uses the same voice when they quote Greg’s Uncle Jimmy. I used to think it was just Greg’s mom and aunts, but I’ll be damned if the Vermont Danaher division and the Kentucky Danaher division didn’t have a Jimmy impression as well.
• There were plenty of stories about great grandpop Danaher. Greg listened to these stories and turned to his mom and said, “Wow, it’s such a shame that I was born after great grandpop passed. I never knew him.” To which Greg’s mom responded, “Well, what can I say, some people are just born lucky, I guess.” That’s when I gathered that he was not the most well-liked amongst the kids.

Of course, I write this, but I am sure Greg has much more to document about my family. While Greg’s family is loud and fun, my family is fun in a bizarre sort of way. We’d never have the coolers of beer at Danaher reunion because my family would be drunk and red after the first six pack. And a typical Thanksgiving day consists of roasted eel, seaweed, squid and sticky rice followed by an evening trip with the whole family to the local slot machines or perhaps some Chinese karaoke while the youngest are forced to do the dishes.