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A Reunion of Strangers
By Hank Hufnagel in the Clarion News
Last Sunday we were driving out to Crates to the Chicken and Noodle Dinner at St. Nicholas Church. As we went by Stoney Lonesome Road, I noticed a big handwritten sign that read Bauer Reunion. There was an arrow on it, and suddenly the idea of going to this reunion of strangers popped into my head. What if I was to arm myself with everything I could find out about the Bauers from the old county history, and then just show up. What would I find? Who would I meet? What might I learn? Would they shoo me away, or would I be welcomed with open arms?
Driving down Stoney Lonesome Road, after a time, there would be another sign, and then another and eventually we'd end by parking on the grass at the side of some old white farmhouse out in the country. We'd take a deep breath and walk up across the lawn and people would see us coming and they would wonder. Were these the Bauers from Ohio? Was this Aunt Susan's eldest, all grown up and married? I suppose at this point we could just veer off for the food table, get some deviled eggs, potato salad and KFC chicken and leave, but that would be stealing the food of strangers. That's not why we crashed the party. We're looking for something more valuable than a good deviled egg to take away home with us.
Out on the lawn, small children splash in a plastic pool; young mothers hovering near by. In the shade of a huge old maple, sullen teenagers mumble at one another. Over near the kitchen door, middle-aged women watch over the food and catch up on the current status of the many branches and twigs of the Bauer family tree. Out behind the barn, four men play horseshoes. The shoes ring against the metal post, the men chuckle and rib each other; comfortably drinking their beers right though the heat of the day, comfortably passing the time with old friends.
It's a reunion just like the last one, just like the next one for the Bauers, but not for us. We are looking for something. We might find them in the barn, or out on the back porch, or on the shady veranda, a fan spinning nearby to move the hot humid air. One thing is for sure, tucked away somewhere on the old farm is the Bauer Family memory bank.
We introduce ourselves, turn on our fancy little digital tape recorder and encourage the old people to tell their tales. Others of the family have heard them a million times and don't really pay that much attention anymore. They are just a part of the comforting background noise of the reunion. But the stories are new and interesting to us, and some time, at some reunion in the not too distant future, these old storytellers will be missing from the gathering, and though their children will sit around and say things like, "Remember Uncle Joe and the stories he could tell about the '50s," none will remember but one or two of them, and even then the details will have slipped from mind.
So, here is our chance to get the stories straight from the horse's mouth, to get them right. We will do something the family somehow never gets around to doing for itself. We will get the oldsters talking and keep them talking, and at the end of the day will walk away with a little piece of history.
Some come without much prompting… the time Aunt Nancy ran over a snake and then looked in her mirror and it was gone, and how she drove the rest of the way home scared to death that the rattler was busily chewing up through the floorboards to get its revenge.
Or, Uncle Ned and how his first car had wooden brakes and how the thing was junk and he loved it until he traded it for a horse, and how he loved that horse even better.
Grandma Bauer chimes in with one about making apple butter during the depression and how a blimp flew over and the children ran away, thinking it was a giant fish come to eat them up.
If we are lucky, the youngsters will come in and take an interest in the proceedings…
"Grandpa, tell the one about the dishes."
"Tell about how Gertrude won the prize."
"Tell about the battle with the incinerator people."
If that doesn't happen, we start asking questions of our own, maybe get them to haul out the photo albums as an aid to memory, so we can guess at what to ask:
“Do you remember the day World War II ended?”
“Once back in 1932 there was a big air show over in Clarion. There were 12,000 people who went to it. Were you there?"
“Tell me about your school days. Tell me how you met your wife. Tell me about the first job you ever had.“
If we do it right, a small crowd may gather and the old folks will be the center of attention, and they will smile and respond, and one will feed off another, and they will tell wistful tales, sad tales, tales of hope and kindness, tales of mystery, tragedy and revenge.
At the end of it, and only then, we will have earned the right to a deviled egg or two. Then we'll take the fancy little digital recorder home, transfer the stories to a CD and make copies… a couple for the Bauers, one for the historical society, and one to keep as the first of a series collected by crashing the reunions of Clarion County.
So there we were, headed for Crates to eat the best noodles in the world, and I see this sign and get this bright idea. I thought about turning, thought about what I would do at the reunion, but I was not prepared… the county history and the fancy recorder were at home. It was time to eat noodles and chicken and revisit wondrous old St. Nicholas Church.
Tonight though, I wonder if things would actually have played out as I imagined. One thing is for sure. If you are going to a family reunion this summer, take along a recorder and get the older people talking… if possible, talking to the children who have not heard the stories a hundred times before. You'll be surprised the difference it makes. Get those tales on tape or on a chip before it is too late! All the fancy digital stuff can happen years from now, but unless you get the raw material soon, someday you will end up kicking yourself and wishing you had one last hour to spend with your old friends and relations of long ago.
Old News of Clarion County