When I was in the sixth grade I wrote a poem about my family reunion for Language Arts class. It started out, “The first Sunday in August, before the weather is cool, our destination is a place past old Scott Center School.” The poem goes on to describe what I came to expect at our annual Covell-Beck gathering, including black raspberry jam, corn-on-the-cob, and scalloped potatoes. 20 years later, loved ones have passed and new generations have grown, and I still look forward to the food! This year the reunion included a fitting memorial service for my beloved Great Uncle Bill in the family plot. I got to spend time with family from Texas, New Jersey, California, Michigan and Virginia. I even caught myself saying, “I remember when you were just a little thing,” like people used to say to me. Auction and fire may have claimed the family houses, but we still meet on the farm past old Scott Center School where memories and laughter remain. Now because of the tradition, new memories are born.
2 thoughts on “first sunday in august”
i spy, sugarcream pie?
my great aunt lilah made a custard pie!