The Two Dollar Crowd

We are a sprawling family. There are over 40 of us, and, over the years, we have seen each other on a fairly regular basis. When my cousins were little, there were the holiday dinners where my grandmother usually baked an apple pie or two. Back then, it was typically my grandmother, my mother, or my Aunt Connie who hosted. 

The cousins grew up and started getting married. Another generational layer was added with Meagan being the first of that layer. That was the first time we had five generations.

With marriages and babies, some of us needed to spend holiday time with in-laws.  We still had holiday dinners hosted at newly acquired houses, but it was rare that everyone was there. In an effort to bring everyone together, my brother Matt started organizing an annual Yankee Swap beginning in 2000 (at least that was the first one I found pictures from). He hosted at my mother’s condo in Merrimack. In addition to my mother’s condo, locations in future years included my house, Sue’s, Uncle Moe’s, and my cousin Justin’s. Anyone who had the energy to provide the house for him to host from that particular year.

Rules for the Yankee Swap evolved over the years in an effort to make things run smoothly. One such rule was the $2 rule intended to gain control over the large number of terrible gifts that were brought to the swap. The crowd would yell “Two dollars!” every time they didn’t like a gift forcing the bearer of the gift to throw $2 into a pot that was distributed at the end of the evening. Because the crowd got into the habit of yelling $2 at everything, we selected Three Wise Woman each year to determine if the gift was really a $2 gift after having been nominated by the crowd.

As the youngest generation grew in number and came of age for both drinking and being able to attend the adult only Yankee Swap, the Yankee Swap got to be too big, so unfortunately, we had to put a pause to our $2 gatherings after Christmas 2013.

We gathered again a year and half later during a different season and at a different venue – Matt’s wedding in a barn. The wedding had added significance since both my Uncle Donald and my mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer. We didn’t know how long the family would remain intact, so we made the most of that party.

In November of 2016, we gathered again. This time in Dunstable to collectively grieve for Phil. He had joked he was in a race with my mother to the end. He won the race.

In July of 2017, Sue was getting ready to sell her Cape house, and she threw one last family shindig. Again, most everyone showed up, and despite the unseasonably cold and rainy weather we played games on the beach, drank too much (cousin John became quite affectionate), and ate cherry stones that Uncle Moe had dug up in Rhode Island.

Once again we were together in December of 2018. This time for  Donald’s memorial. He had told Sharon to throw him a big party, and she did. 

In September of 2019, we celebrated a couple of birthdays. Pépère’s 100^th and Mémère’s 97^th. 

And then this past weekend, there was Mom’s memorial where the $2 crowd was once again together. She would have loved the memorial for two reasons. First, most everyone was there and having a good time. And second, very little attention was spent on her. We shared some photos, Nicole gave a short and sweet toast, and there were some snippets of memories shared in side conversations. Anything more than that would have made her uncomfortable. And she would have been happy to hear about her oldest son stopping in the 1997 Lexus she gave him after it had been totaled to help her oldest daughter change a flat tire on 495 heading to the memorial. In his one pair of good pants. And then he had to stare at her Hillary bumper sticker the rest of the way to the venue.

During the memorial, I found myself frequently looking around for her. I kept on asking myself “Where’s Mom?” I expected her to be there. It was an odd feeling.

My grandparents were there. We had seen them back in June when we took them out to lunch, and Pépère took us on a tour of a couple cemeteries. We visited the graves of his maternal and paternal grandparents, his parents, and her parents and brother. That one has their names inscribed on it. He also took me to my Dad’s grave. 

It was a fun day.

No really, it was. 

Now, here we were at their daughter’s memorial. Seeing the photos of her, Pepere commented on what a pretty young lady she was. “You don’t think about that at the time,” he told me. And Memere mentioned once again she thinks about Mom and Donald every day.

As I looked around the room, I noticed that the cousins who were so little years ago now had grey hair. They have children getting ready to have children. In fact, there was one little guy there who helped steal the attention away from my mother. Caleb. The start of the newest 5^th generation. 

And so it goes. Who knows when or where the next gathering will be, but I do know there will be one. And the crowd will be yelling “Two dollars!”