I just succeeded in getting 7 kids under age 10—cousins—to lay down quietly in the same room together. I’m hoping to post this letter before they all come upstairs.
I want different things for my kids out of this trip. For my older son I want the influence of my mother, who I think can pressure him toward more group minded ethics. For my daughter I wanted her to witness the physical hardiness of the women in her family, most of whom she hasn’t met since she was too young to consider such things (though lots of Marco Polo and more recently organized cousin Zooms have helped her begin to meet them). She does consider things like this now, noting how often some of the people in her life are incapacitated.
For my youngest son I hoped only to plant flashes of memories, the fleeting images of warm open skies and a giant yard to explore, and cows to feed, and a kitten.
For me? I just wanted to show my kids where I grew up, and with who, and how.
Bear Lake, 2020
Bear lake: 1987
The kids are anything but in bed, I must admit, but Grandma took over with a stack of books to read.