West Virginia, Mountain Momma (long post)

I know no one might not care (getting into my "family speak here), but this is a really big deal to me, and I HAVE to share!

Hey guys! I have been buzzing around the house since 6 pm singing two songs - "I'm so excited" and "Mountain Momma". Sunday is my family reunion in West Virginia!!!

My mom, my boyfriend, me, my best friend (since I was a week old!) my oldest sister and her kids are all leaving at 2 pm today. It's six o'clock am and I haven't slept yet, so guess what I will be doing for those six hours in the car?

This is an annual thing, (every second Sunday in July) on my dad's side of the family. My mom has gone every year for more then 40 years. My sister has missed one year when she had a baby five days before. (Another year she had a baby ten days before and she and the baby both went!). In fact, I am the only one of my dad's children to ever miss a year (I missed two or three.)

I thought I was going to have to miss it this year and I CRIED. I sobbed like a baby, but things worked out.

I know you guys aren't as thrilled about this as I am, but let me tell you how this happens.

My two sisters, brother, mom, two nephews and five nieces usually leave on Friday. I get there about mid-afternoon, or evening and get motel rooms. We get to spend the first night goofing off.

Our family cemetary is ontop of a "hill" (it's a mile and a half at between 60% to 70%). On Saturday, we take cans of paint up there and act like we are going to paint the headstones. (It's a joke - my cousines LIVE there and always get there the weekend before.)

My dad's burried there, so we go anyways, and the crybabies stand over the graves and bawl. My sister-in-law and I chase kids and try not to feel uncomfortable. Then we go back down the mountain and drive an hour back to our motel room.

On Sunday, the whole family meets there. My dad and all of the brothers are dead now, but their cousines, Aunts, Uncles and their offspring are always there. My little twig of the family tree can be counted on to be one of the last groups there (usually about half-way through church.)

On Sunday, we always have some yeehaws in pickup-trucks (my cousines) driving us up the hill. (Since my uncle Pappy died, it's his daughter Mary-Lou driving the "last of the wild breed" but my bro drives it, to when he has his pickup.

We get up the hill, and the truck stops about five feet back from the people who are having church underneath the tree-tops (so pretty - like GOD must of meant). Thoe who need an extra minute at the graves sneak on past. Those who want to hear the sermon take a seat. Those who are there for the social part walk part-way back down the Mountain.

After the service, it's a circus. My dad's Aunt Rhodie, and her little clique start putting food out. The people from Ohio (my dad's cousine, her kids, grandkids, and us) take our flowers back to put on the graves. There're always kids walking over the graves we have to watch.

Then everyone sits down to a huge pot-luck dinner. My Aunt Pat (dad's cousine) and Aunt Rhodie (his aunt) are some great cooks, and they usually bring most of the food. We get off easy, and we always have. We bring the pop. (about six or seven coolers)

We eat, and clean up. Then the fun part starts! LOL, you should see us all going down the hill in the back of a pick-up truck. It's not a road, but two verry big ruts and washed out gravel.

There are briar branches. Ever taken one of those in the face at five miles an hour? It doesn't sound fast, but a tree branch going that fast sure can welt, and thorns dig DEEP into the skin!

(Huh! That probably doesn't sound like much fun does it? I guess you have to hear people yelling "Don't bogg us under Jimmy!" "HOW good are your shocks?" "Awe crap! We lost one! Oh well, it was *so-and-so*.")

Remember, we are sitting on coolers, wheel hubs, and anywhere else there is a seat. If I get lucky enough to get on the bed-bed of the truck, there are about four kids on my lap. Some idgit always puts the coolers by the tailgate, so you have to brace your feet against the coolers to keep whoever is sitting on them from sitting on the kids in your lap!

We all ride like that going up-hill, to. That parts not as much fun though - it's serious. The truck could break down, and we have to get up there before the service is over, because we all promised Daddy we would.

This year is expecially profound for me. I've never taken anyone up there before, and my dad died before I was old enough to date. I've been married for six years, but in a morbid way, this is the first time I will ever take a guy to meet my dad.

My boyfriend doesn't get that part. He has no clue why this is so special to me, why I HAVE to go. He got off the hook at Thanksgiving, Christmass and Easter, and to him this is not a holliday. For me, it is the only holliday that I HAVE to wear a dress for.

It is a really big deal to us. My other sister and brother are already there. My cousine Ralph drove all the way from Arkansas to go, because he hasn't been to my dad's grave since he was burried. My cousine Vicki really wanted to come. (They are both on my mom's side of the family.) My friend I mentioned earlier hasn't been since before my dad died. My dad was really special to her, to.

My cousine Trish might miss it for the first time in her life. My grandma died giving birth to her dad, and he was raised by one of my grandpa's second cousines or something.. Anyways, that branch of the family has their reunion next weekend, and Trish can only have one weekend off work.

Okay, it is almost 7 am and I am getting sappy and emotional! You guys all have a nice end to your weekend and I will tell you more about it when I get home!

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