David Heiller
Some big families live
fairly close together, and see each other often. I think they are lucky, even
if they sometimes don’t get along so well.
Yet, maybe it’s not all
bad that my siblings are spread over the United States. It makes the occasions
when we do get together all that more memorable.
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| Heillers, at a family wedding. |
Like last weekend. Six of
us brothers and sisters went to St. Charles, Illinois, to attend the wedding of
our niece, Jenny. Everybody brought their kids too.
It was a beautifully
hectic time. I tried to squeeze two years into two days with Jeanne, who I
hadn’t seen since 1992. That’s impossible.
But small conversations
can mean a lot, especially when you grew up together in a loving family. People
don’t say many profound things at real life reunions, like they do in
Hollywood. They talk about their jobs, or their kids riding in mountain bike
races.
You get a taste of their
lives, and you put the ingredients together and savor it all until you see them
again.
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| David and his sister Jeanne in Jay Cooke State Park. |
Jeanne and I did that
during our visit last week. Then at the wedding dance on Saturday night, we
said something almost in unison. Maybe it was even profound: how lucky we were
to be together at this time.
Sometimes it wasn’t even
necessary to talk. A smile and a hug can say as much as a book. There were
plenty of both at the wedding.
I didn’t say much to
Jenny. There were too many people, and being a bride is a tough job. A hug and
a smile and a few words went a long way with her. You could see it in her eyes.
A dance says a lot too.
Our elders used to dance more than we do. They knew that you can impart more in
a few minutes of holding a loved one, and making small talk, than you can in
many other ways.
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| David and his sister Kathy. |
I didn’t talk much with my
sister Kathy during our wedding reunion. It had something to do with the fact
that her daughter was the one getting married. Mother-of-the-bride is a tough
job too.
But we did dance. She
asked me how things were going. I did the same. A two minute conversation, but
one I’ll remember, because it conveyed more than words. It conveyed love and
concern and gratitude for just being together.
Watching my nieces and
nephews was just as fun. I sat next to a nephew at dinner. He told me about his
role in a play at school. He was excited about it, and spoke with a pride and
intelligence that I had not seen before.
Another nephew is a
wrestler, like I was in high school. He was an usher at his sister’s wedding,
just like I was at the wedding of my sister Kathy—his mother—26 years ago.
That was a wonderful
connection. He was the kind of kid that would have been my friend back in
eighth grade, and the kind of kid that an uncle could love now.
The same for his big
brother, who is a senior in high school, polite, mature, handsome, and
altogether likeable.
Kathy complimented Cindy
and me on our kids too. She did it indirectly. At the last dance Saturday
night, our 11-year-old son danced with Kathy. He asked her to dance, which made
us even prouder. Cindy and I watched them and smiled. Somehow their dancing
brought our whole family closer to Kathy.
Then Kathy told me
afterward how Noah had talked to her all during the dance, had asked about
Jenny and Chad, and hoped their honeymoon trip to New Orleans went OK. “He’s a
good dancer,” she added. You can’t get a finer compliment than that.
Watching our nine-year-old
daughter dance with almost all her cousins and uncles and even a few aunts
brought us great joy too.
The wedding was more than
a time to help Jenny and Chad celebrate their marriage. It was a time for a
family to come together again. That’s something for which to be thankful.
