I think we might have it all wrong. Parents (and worse, grandparents) try to please the littlest members of the family with what we believe are fun activities for children. But often, it’s the mundane chores of our everyday lives that are the stuff memories are made of.
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In the apartment building where I live, Halloween is a repeat performance every year. Scene 1: I buy a ridiculous amount of candy because I am always afraid I will run out. Scene 2: Half a dozen kids show up and claim the best loot of the night because I don’t want all that candy going into my mouth and onto my thighs.
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It doesn’t sound like an important family ritual, but when I call “taste test,” everyone drops whatever he or she is doing and comes into the kitchen. We meet at the counter, glasses or spoons at the ready.
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“I hated everyone then and there’s no reason to think I’d like anyone now.” That was the email refusal my friends Karyn, Ronnie and I got from Steven B., a high school classmate of ours to our invitation to a class reunion of more years than I want to document. We received one or two others along that pleasant line, but by and large the reception to what would be only our second reunion in multiple decades was, “WOW!”
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