Wednesday, June 15, 2016

The Family BBQ

Here we are mid June and I just realized that we've only had one BBQ and that involved the family get together this year. It was with the Urbans.

In our family there are the Urbans, who live in the big city. By big city I mean about ten minutes  from DC depending on traffic.
Then there's Us, the hillbillies- borned and raised and still hang'in on here for dear life here in West Virginia.

The Urbans were born and raised here too, but this is the side of the family tree they deny. They keep hidden from their many high society friends socialites. I bet your friends don't know your real name's, Joy Lou. Girl don't play that.

I ask every year at the time of planning, why you even want to have it here? You don't even like coming here? Oh they say the same

Well what gave you that idea? We love it there.

So then, why you try to hide from us? Anyway...

They plan this big ole hoopla every year and descend on good ole West "By God" Virginia for spendin' the day with family. There is only one rule they have. We can't act like we're hillbillies and positively no hillbilly shenanigans.

That's their word not mine. Not hillbilly. Shenanigans.

So as you can imagine at the gather'in the hillbilly's and the Urbans split out into groups. It isn't long before someone walks by the grill to throw a firecracker in it just to scare the Grill Keeper Urban.

There's only so many excuses why you have to keep going to your car to sneak a drink from the Urbans, cuz they want us on our best behavior.

We start telling our last weekend stories which is why someone is there wearing a new cast this year. Meanwhile they are Instagraming the food spread. To send friends and admire for later I guess. Maybe they take pictures in case someone goes home with a case of diarrhea. They bring up the food trying to guess what is was and who brought it? Evidence? I don't know.

After the broken bone story, they tell us about their trip
and eating at Delmonico's.

I think a bone sticking outta someone's leg story trumps listening to the menu from some fancy pantsy restaurant, don't you?

Throughout the long day there is the child who comes running with a little cut on his foot and the Urbans are ready to call 9-1-1.

Jeeze it's a scratch. While you're fishing for the first aid kit for a band aid and turn around the kid is already over on the playground trying to get back in line.

Okay cool he walked it off. Bet your glad you didn't call fer an ambulance huh?

And here it comes the whole talk about why the kid should be wearing shoes.
Where is his shoes?

I don't know. Did he even have'em on when we got here? Kids around here like to go barefoot, jeeze.

Of course within five to ten minutes the same kid is back screaming because he fell off of the merry go round. You brush the sand and dirt outta his hair and he runs get back on screaming, wait for me! There is just no talking to the Urbans that the kids here are  built Ford Tough!

Then towards the end try as hard as they want to they always end up in failing at trying to behave like they never left. They've lost their edge. The Urbans don't even sound like us.

We once again retreat to our own corners. The Urbans on one side; we on the other to talk about the pig roast next weekend. God it'll be great. No one will be

Losing their mind because the hammock rolled over with a kid in it. Dang its a scratch. He's had his shots. Not every cut means an antibiotic for gosh sakes.
Spending their day on the pieces of technology- texting, Instagramming, Face timing and talking with their fancy I-gadgets. Only putting them down to chastise and ridicule.
Freaking out because the baby snuck over and downed a bottle of Mountain Dew before anyone noticed. It's a sugary drink, not the freaking zombie apocalypse.
Freaking out because the little boys hotdog rolled on the ground and he brushed off the grass and dirt and ate it. Every kid eats a little dirt. Relax at least it didn't happen inside a restaurant on those grungy floors.

Before they say goodbye someone walks up and gives the child who won't keep them on a pair of shoes.


  1. To be a fly on the wall for that...

  2. I enjoyed the story, even though here in Indiana, I don't think we have that great of a divide between the "Urbans" and the "goat ropers". But that last bit about sneaking the MD reminded me of a wedding reception many moons ago (In-law family) where a 2 1/3- or- 3 year old polished off most of a bottle of champagne that way. Didn't seem to stunt HIS growth...

  3. Alex and they wonder why I have to be forced every year to go to that thing. :/ I wish they would just come and enjoy the day.

    CW ROTFL That is hilarious about the bottle of champagne. I bet he or she was the life of the party after that. :) Back in '66 way before todays nonsense started the hubby was 4. His mother was in the backyard talking to the neighbor. Hubby kept telling her he was thirsty. He was actually drinking her Vodka. From what she told me he got pretty wasted and ate one of the raw squirrels she had soaking in the fridge. :) Oh kids do the darndest crap.

  4. And when push comes to shove, it is more often the "Hillbillies" that step up to the plate.

  5. My family was a bit like this. My dad's side was more hillbilly and my mom's side more not. And we lived more not... I guess. It was always bit like visiting a foreign country when we visited my dad's side of the family. And I'm sure that they felt that way, too (about us). I never thought it from how my nanny thought of it until reading your post. All I know as the grandchild in that scenario was that I loved them. I didn't understand all the crazy things they did and wasn't brave enough to do them myself, but I loved listening to the stories.

    You may (or may not) have lost some sort of meeting place with your daughter here. I know that my nanny lost that place with my dad (and never really got it back), but he never talked badly about her to us or influenced us in any way about his family. So, I would say that the best thing you can do with regard to your grandchildren is just love them. Love them love them love them. Love can bridge many gaps and fill in the holes created by circumstances and differences.


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