Woody Cavenaugh

Yesterday was the Cavenaugh family reunion. It is held where it pretty much always was where the Cavenaugh's settled in 1800. The reason for this is that since 1800 only a handful of Cavenaugh's ever left. Duplin county has a lot of "C"s in its phone book.

I have been going to the family reunion for as long as I can remember. Few things change but those changes are constant and consistant. Each year there are a couple fewer old faces and a couple new baby faces peaking out from blankets and strollers. We renew each year.

One of the interesting changes, at least to me and perhaps an anthropologist, is the food each year. My earliest memories of the family reunion were of sampling all of the different types of home cooked fried chicken, fried pork chops, stew beef, and enough greens, beens, and biscuits to make good and sure everyone was fed before they hit the table of stired cakes, pies, and coblers. Everything everywhere was homecooked, and more often than not the ingredients all came from their own farms.

Through the years times change, the elders die off and the young ones have left the agrarian lifestyle to work in factories, offices, and the like. Fields of old are becomming hunting grounds and neighborhoods. Over the years this has led to a very gradual change in the yearly spread. I remember the first time my mother brought a casserole to the event. I had some, mom had some and the rest went home with us. Over several years of her bringing the same dish year after year my generation first tried and than came to enjoy it. As they reached breeding age and started to bring dishes of their own we saw a movement towards casseroles, and ingredients bought from the grocery store. When their children had children (I am still shocked by this by the way), the food on the table was of great variety and the older generation is a little better about trying new things.

This year there was only one bowl of fried chicken and it was KFC. There was only one plate of fried pork chops and they were heavenly. There were two lasagnas, a dish unheard of just five years ago. For the first time a the dessert table were at least two store bought dishes served in their origional boxes. I brought a fruit works from Pie Works. (I always felt it was my duty to bring exotic dishes from the far flung regions to the table) Someone else bought a big tray of baklava. Half the fun was listening to people old and young look at it and wondering how one was supposed to eat it. At the end of the day the fruit works and the baklava were nothing more than empty boxes.

I think the most shocking change was me. I had a biscuit on the road down there and by the traditional serving time of 1pm I was so hungry I was shaking. Two plates of food later I thought I would require medical attention. I remember vaguely the year that I didn't go for thirds. This was the first year that I thought I would require a vomitorium after only two plates. I walked outside unsteadily the wind was blowing. The wind made me want to hurl. I returned inside and sat very quietly in a chair hoping I could resist the forces bent on my explosion.

After about an hour I thought it might be possible I could get into the car without serious incident. A half hour later I had to pull over at a rest area for a nap. After a half hour passed out, I thought I could drive home safely.

I didn't have dinner.

I slept fitfully as I was unable to get comfortable, they say when you eat too much and go to bed you have night mares. I don't know about that but when the asian guy in the Scooby gang announced that they had never handled a murder case before I was glad when Sara kicked me and ordered me to roll over. It took about five minutes to roll over. I think gravitational forces were at work. If not that, surely tidal forces were to blame. I only know that by the time I revolved I was ordered to revolve again. The animals got restless every time my day side faced the ceiling.

Morning was hard. The dreams, the discomfort, the spin. When we reached campus I began my trek from the parking lot to the office. It took a half hour, a base camp and sherpas. I really needed a bigger sherpa. Now here I sit in my desk, feeling like I just ate a desk. I am eyeing suspiciously my can of instant breakfast. I am supposed to use it to wash down my vitamine breakfast. Ain't gonna happen. I can't see my knees....If I die today please have the wake somewhere my body isn't, the smell of food right now would be too much to bare, even post mortum.

Just rememember to dump a bucket of chicken on my grave on my birthday each year, for the brother that didn't make it.