I was away for a while at a Sherrick reunion—that is to say, a gathering of many of my cousins on my mother’s side of the family, the Sherricks. It was great. I love my cousins, and I hadn’t seen a lot of them for many years, not since the then-patriarch of the family, their dad and my Uncle John, passed away ten years ago. There were a couple of spouses I had never met.
We all gathered in a beach house on the coast of North Carolina, close to where some of them are living now. Julia and I represented the Carver family, while Allysen stayed with the still-recovering-from-bike-crash Lexi. We got a lot of sun, surf, and good company. What a family of over-achievers. One, an agricultural economist, sits on Obama’s agriculture board and rebuilds houses in his spare time. One manages field development of products for a very large agricultural supply company. Several are teachers. One is recently retired after a career as head ranger at multiple national parks. That’s just a sampling, and that’s just in my own generation. The kids are scary smart.
So we talked and laughed, and lost sunglasses in the ocean, and played Cranium, and drank beer and margaritas. The leader types organized dinner teams, and each team planned in secret and created amazing dinner experiences. I didn’t cook, but I did my bit by making frozen margaritas.
Here I am, caught in a moment of scintillating conversation.
And here’s some of the crew trying to take an inflatable raft to sea. Yes, there are people on that raft. And probably one or two under it, at any given moment.