Reunited

Well, Labor Day weekend was the Towers-Walton-Alberty fishing derby. We get together every year at Big Creek, the place where my dad, his brothers and sisters grew up. This year we literally had the reunion at the creek. They rented a tent, set it up under a tree and near some cow pies, put food underneath it and a party materalized. I took my new husband to meed the black half of the family, as did my baby sister (not really a baby anymore, rather a gorgeous 23 year-old woman). Anyway, when we parked in the field, our hubbys (hubbies?) departed the truck first and started unloading. Seeing only them, my Uncle Gene approached and asked, "You boys just passing through?" He obviously thought they were lost, seeing as they're as pale as white bread there was no way they were there for the reunion. Cyrus quickly assured him he was there with "Richard Towers," figuring that was the best "safe word" to use at that point. I'd already explained to him how being related to Richard Towers would open lots of doors, not to mention keep him from getting booted off Uncle Gene's property.

Later, they put up a Spongebob Squarepants pinata for the munchkins. (Don't worry, I got in a few swings too.) While the rope was dangling over the tree, Cyrus became slightly alarmed and asked, "Is that rope for me?" It was pretty much the highlight of the event. Or maybe that was when my team won the obstacle course relay, or when I beat Cyrus in the egg race, or when we placed 1st and 2nd place consecutively in the mile "run" (in our age group).

Ok, you're right. The highlight was being together with family.