A Weekend at the Cabin

The Last First Annual Equal Rights Cousin Reunion

It began on Friday evening, peacefully enough, with a gentle pontoon ride on the beautiful tree-lined lake and followed by a light supper of cold cuts, fruit and the multitude of dessert options brought by the visitors.  There was no inkling of the carnage to come.  

But … I get ahead of myself.

For several years, there has been a tradition amongst the male 1st cousins to gather at Lake Beltrami for a weekend in June - with spouses in whole-heartedly approval.  However, the female cousins subtly suggested that there was an aroma of discrimination in the practice, the complaint strengthened by their minority status, 7 to 9.  One cousin, who shall remain nameless, suggested a separate but equal solution, but the 1954 Brown vs. Board of Education case was quickly invoked.  

So the summer of 2016 brought the first annual equal rights 1st cousin reunion, hereafter to be known as "possibly the last" , or PTL.  16 cousins and spouses if you got 'em received invites. Soon thereafter, 7 replied with regrets.  Ominously, 6 of the 7 were male, which reversed the majority, 6-3.

First, a little family history diversion. It is not well known that there is a branch of the clan in Pine River. Its patriarch was Ole - no the other Ole, brother of Nils. This branch was known to the older generation as they on occasion came to Lowry for the Plymouth Brethren Gospel Hall “Summer Meetin’s”, known by some as the “mating meetings”. But they became lost until Elise rediscovered them and they made the trek to Barsness Park in Glenwood for a family reunion.  

On the way to "the lake", two separate parties of cousins made a stop at Bites Bar & Grill, a restaurant owned by Roger, son of Paul - no the other Paul.  We also visited with Clara, who had just celebrated her 90th birthday, daughter of Nils - no the other Nils.

Back to Bemidji. The event went forward with 3 male cousins, 6 female cousins, 4 spouses & 4 "non-cousin" family party crashers. For 30 days prior to the event, a family knowledge quiz was distributed in a “question of the day” fashion.  Friday evening brought an assessment of the results, and Jane, who had devoted roughly 100 hours to research, clocked in with the winning score: 5 / 30. Mark, who brought along a printed copy of the questions - but without answers - claimed to have them in his head.  Disqualified.  Overall, a disappointing dearth of family knowledge, making me question some folks legitimacy.  Then, conversation at water’s edge and eventual dispersing to various sleeping accommodations.

Saturday arrives. A day to remember.

The day dawned sunny and breezy with a fine breakfast to launch a day of conversation and reminiscing and eating.  Who knew that every sentence uttered, every breath you take, every move you make contains a song lyric that the voice of singing quickly identified and rendered in its entirety, luckily in a passable alto Luther College voice. But, pause, groan, continue.  

Mid-morning, while I calmly relaxed on the deck beneath the shade of the big yellow umbrella, the gentle breeze gusted, lofting said umbrella upward. I lunged for a Mary Poppins moment, but failed as the umbrella sailed gracefully up and over the roof and plunged through the living room window on the other side, awakening Larry and showering him with glass shards, one lodging neatly between his toes. The rapid-response team quickly removed window & screen and swept the debris. But good vibrations were trending toward bad vibes.

The morning brought the arrival of the final cousin accompanied by her mother Myrt, an amazing 60 year polio survivor.  While we were seated on the deck, there was an “eagle alert” voiced from the beach. The helpful lads leaped to assist, promptly dumping her wheelchair backwards down the steps of the deck, giving her a fine view of the lovely blue sky - and opening a gash on her leg.  Luckily, Denny is a first-aid ninja. We begin to feel a bit on edge. True to form, Myrt blamed herself.

Jeff had discovered that his neighbors down the road were retired Bemidji State music profs & when #2 son arrived he managed to conjure a voice lesson - an aria. (Meanwhile back at the ranch, we were singing "1 little 2 little 3 little brain cells ..." in honor of Esther’s WCTU service.)  On #2 son's return on the 4-wheeler, he managed to lure a deer into his path and slamming on the brakes, flipped the 4-wheeler on top of himself - luckily escaping with bruises. An attempt at a coverup failed.  Vibes begin to rattle the windows.

Toward afternoon, Marcia and Myrt decided to make the trek back to North Dakota. The helpful lads leapt to assist … well, I guess you’ve heard this one already.  But yes, we dumped her again.  The sky was still a beautiful blue -  but competency hearings for a few of us to decide whether we should retain membership in the human race are pending.

A somewhat more subdued group carried on with the traditional pork loin meal that you must eat with mayo & banana peppers - delish.  And more and more desserts. A couple more 4-wheeler rides and Jane on the water snowmobile praising God. And a fire.

Sunday morning the late sleeper was awakened from singing in her sleep to “This is the day that the Lord has made ..” in 11 part harmony. Later in the morning Mark arrived from across the lake in Doug & Melissa’s classic 1952 12’ aluminum runabout. However, he left his insulin on the far side.

A final meal, a delicious egg-bake awaited, preceded by an emotional tribute to her fantastic, imperfect family from Janis.

Final thoughts.

In addition to the vocal interludes and the bodily damage, there were some other startling differences from previous gatherings.

• No discussions of football, baseball, hockey, track, soccer, the Olympics -  or any other athletic topic - except for one question on bike trails and a question whether tennis was really a sport
• Wine bottles, not beer bottles in the recycle. I actually took part of a 6-pack home!
• Someones made a sneak-away to visit a garage sale
• No early AM lake baths
• No kayaking or jet-skiing - excepting Jane. “Praise Jesus, God be the Glory, Hallelujah ride.”
• Lots of Stephen King-like laughter for seemingly no reason. Norman Cousins was blamed.
• Gluten free brownies.  Really?
• No oreos
• Somewhat less profanity
• Similar amount of belching
• Homeopathic remedy suggestions for a multitude of ailments
• A cousin arrival by motorized launch
• Smaller fires
• A father hosting his daughter & her boyfriend.  What was his name again?
• Effusive thank you’s - with a note.  Previous years - not so much.

And a few pearls ..

• Who needs deet?  Just fire a salt-packed airgun at the critters.
• All our grandchildren are well above average
• Someone is on a quest to visit every Culvers - 43 down.
• A house-fire will almost always result in a total loss. Upload your photos to the cloud.
• To relieve neck stiffness, hang. Or find pressure points in your bicep and press until you can no longer stand the pain.
• When RT was offered coffee, he asked to be taught to fish.
• We have family in Pine River and Roger owns a fine restaurant.  Try it.

So, in spite of the travails, a lovely weekend.  Great hosts, great place. A big thank you to the hosts for sharing their little bit of paradise.

Do we dare another?

Appendix A. Bonus - Recipes

Not exactly health food, but ... yum.

Jane's Almond Bars

9x13 15+15 min 350

Bottom layer

1 ½ c. butter

3 c flour

¾ c powdered sugar

Mix with pastry blender-like pie crust dough.  Pat evenly in pan.  Bake 15 min

Filling

12 oz cream cheese, softened

¾ c sugar

3 eggs

3 tsp almond extract

Combine cream cheese and sugar.  Add eggs and almond extract.  Beat until creamy.  Pour over  hot crust. Bake 15 minutes.  Filling should be set.  Jiggle pan or insert knife into center to check doneness.  Cool bars before frosting.

Frosting

3/8 c butter

2 ¼  c powdered sugar

2 ¼  t milk or cream

1 ½ t almond extract

Sprinkled frosted bars with sliced almonds.  These bars freeze very well.

Carol’s Almond Cookies

Esther’s Donuts

(These unfortunately failed to make an appearance. Brooten donuts substituted, a poor second place)

Just so no one can claim that there is nothing of value in this episode, I include something precious: Grandma Esther’s donut recipe.

Esther was famous in Lowry for dressing up as a witch on Halloween and dispensing donuts from a broom handle. She saw every kid’s costume every year – some of us more than once. I suspect she’d get a visit from the Pope County sheriff these days.

Step 1: Assemble the equipment. Purchase a good quality mixer - Kitchenaid makes a nice one ($300); a deep fryer ($100); a donut maker ($30); a good quality exhaust fan ($2000 installed – you might do without it but you will smell donut grease for 6 weeks and in 6 weeks you will crave donuts again. This is known in my trade as an infinite loop). You should only need to do step 1 once or twice in a lifetime.

Step 2. Assemble the ingredients.

3 well beaten eggs        [Farm fresh brown eggs of course.]

2 c. white sugar

1 c. sweet milk             [X-Gen translation = 1⁄2 & 1⁄2]

1 c. sour cream

1 t. salt

2 t. baking powder

1 t. soda

6 crushed cardamom seeds    [This if you want authentic, but, personally, no thanks. Esther made some with and some without.]

2 t. vanilla                    [From Axel Erickson, the Watkin’s man. During prohibition, this was in very short supply due to its use in stills.]

5 c. flour

1 t. cinnamon

1 t. nutmeg

Texture is everything. 2 of the 5 c. should be cake flour if you want it right. Ofcourse, Esther did not have this, but I think she sifted the bee-jeesus out of it. (She wouldn’t approve of my language, BTW)

Step 3. Execute to plan. This recipe involves scalding hot oil and boiling water so it must be performed by a responsible adult. This eliminates most people so I am wondering why I'm bothering.

Put the dough in the ice box over night. You can handle it with less flour that way. When each donut is cooked, have a pan of boiling water beside and plunge each one into it (Editor’s note: use a tongs) and drain on paper toweling. This takes care of any grease left on them and the shortening from the water is very good and flavorful for cookies.

Step 4: Cleanup. Hmm, what to do with that donut grease? Stash it in the cistern for reuse in 6 weeks. Throw away your cooking clothes.

Step 5: Consumption. I suspect you will squirrel away your own private stock somewhere, to be found appropriately on St. Patrick’s Day dressed in green - assuming you have any left after the execute step.