Back to My Roots

Usually, our family stays home on Memorial Day weekend. The crowds and the weather (doesn't it always rain on Memorial Day weekend?) are reason enough to boycott the holiday, or better yet, to use it as it was intended and visit loved ones at the cemetary.

This year, though, my cousin called with an invitation to go to Christmas Hills to ride. It's a 2 thousand-acre piece of land dedicated to motorcycle tracks and trails. A true paradise. We hadn't been there before but decided to take a chance and venture out on this dreaded holiday.

We had a great time. What an amazing place! I estimated over one hundred campers and motorhomes were scattered over the rolling meadow, and even then, we had no neighbors except for those we had chosen. Out on the trails, we would come across other riders occationally, but I was surprised that at no time during the three days did the place ever seem crowded. The kids were in extacy. Even after three full days of riding and playing their guts out, they were sad to leave and insisted on our setting a date to return before we pulled away.

But to end here would leave out the most important part of the trip for me personally. The most important part of the trip was not the place or the riding, it was the people. We were invited by my cousin, but also joined by four of his brothers and sisters and several of their relatives. It was a true family affair.

I suppose it's pretty typical, but I haven't spent much time with these people from my past since I became an adult. Life has shifted and bumped us around a bit; we've ended up in different areas geographically, emotionally, personally. And yet, when I look at these people from my childhood, I see a raw piece of who I am. In some of them, I see myself (strong family genes, I guess), and in some I see my brother...or my brother as he would be now had he survived. It is surprising how years of your life can be stripped away. In one way, I felt like a lifetime had passed, and the world had changed completely. But in another way, and perhaps a more important way, I felt like everything was exactly the same; we were like children again, but with the perspective and appreciation that comes with being an adult. And it was good.

So thank you to my cousins for making this the best Memorial Day weekend I've had in a long time! I enjoyed the time I spent riding and playing, but more importantly, I enjoyed knowing them again. Sometimes we forget to miss each other, and there is value in missing, I think.