This past Saturday we attended a family reunion on my husband’s side of the family.  We had never attended one before so it was exciting to meet cousins and distant relatives we never even knew existed. 

It was held in a church in a small town in Georgia.  As in many southern small towns, a large cemetery sat behind the church and was enclosed by a white picket fence.  It was used as the final resting place of many family members who attended that church or lived in the community.  When we arrived, we saw people walking among the giant tombstones that filled the old cemetery.   They were looking for relatives of long ago and wondering how they connected with them.

When we walked inside the church fellowship hall, you could smell the home-cooked food and the aroma of the mingled smells dancing in the air.  Our stomachs immediately felt empty and longed for lunch to begin.  The kitchen was bustling with the older women who were in charge of the food portion of the reunion.  Most of them had been married for 40 years or more.  They were gray haired and wise in years.  Their husbands hung by the doorway talking about relatives who had died in the past year and one or two would snatch a deviled egg when the women weren’t watching.   You could see the playfulness of these older, married couples and I was reminded of an old saying, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” 

Black and white pictures of family members from 100 years ago were on display.  No one smiled for pictures back then and we laughed and said they all looked like a band of thieves!   Even the children were not smiling and we wondered why they chose such a serious expression for a family photograph.

One family member had spent years writing a book about the family history and personally spent thousands of dollars and millions of hours writing, publishing and binding the books.  Attendees paid for their chance to read a book about their family’s past.  They could take it home and turn each page with pride as they realized how important some of their family members were.  There were business people, ministers, politicians and others who were a part of our family tree.  Some had even started towns and discovered products to make our lives easier.  One even used the old “marsh lands” during the depression and grew rice so they could feed their townspeople.   (Think of the regulations against that in today’s highly regulated world.)

As we waited for the food to be served, we spoke to people we had never met before.  Faces looked familiar and some had the same smile just like my mother-in-law has.   Beautiful white hair could be seen crowning many of the women in the room.  The same downturned eyebrows that we see on our next of kin appeared on the faces of some we met in that hall.  The eyes too had the same brown hue with a touch of green sweeping around the irises.  One person looked exactly like my husband’s brother.  It was uncanny the resemblance of these people to us.  We share the same blood line and as we spoke to each other, we found out we shared the same family values too.

The food was served and we ate way too much.  Home-made fried chicken filled a large pan.  This was a special treat and we all knew it.  We wanted to enjoy a taste of the past because we now live in the days of buckets picked up through a drive-thru window.  One long table was stocked with home-made blueberry, apple, lemon meringue pie and icebox pies, peach cobblers, chocolate, strawberry and coconut cakes and tons of cookies and gooey brownies.  

As we pushed away the empty plates, we looked at each other in disbelief that we could “pig-out” like we did.  Smiles filled our faces and complete joy of being with family, eating a home-cooked meal and reading about our family tree made for a special Saturday that only comes along once in a blue moon.

After a special event of singing and telling stories, we loaded up the car with our full tummies and great memories and headed home.  As we drove along the interstate towards Florida, I looked out the side window at the pine trees standing in rows next to each other.  I imagined each tree represented one family and thousands of tree families stood in attention as we drove along. 

They seemed to speak to me as each tree moved towards the back of the car.  Their appearance reminded me that you have your family and we have ours.  Yet as Americans we are all tied together in this community called America.  We may not look alike because some of us are red, yellow, black, brown or white but we do have the same American DNA inside each of us. 

No family is perfect and neither is America.  We share the dark secrets that put a black spot on our souls and we share the bright moments of courage that helped shape America.  Like families who stick together, Americans who stick together can overcome obstacles and move forward through the pain. 

My eyes grew heavy from my full tummy and the motion of the trees going by.  I closed them to nap.  My mind wandered to the upcoming election and I thought of those candidates who are sitting with their campaign advisors planning their strategy.  I imagined how wonderful it would be if an American Patriot would stand up and proudly declare his American DNA instead of listening to the advisors who tell them to be politically correct.  I could feel myself drifting off to a deeper sleep and as I did, I heard this sentence in my head.  Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. 

I smiled as I leaned my head towards the window to hold it up.  “That is America’s DNA,” I thought.  It is what we were founded on and what we have lived with for over 200 years.  It’s a part of us and whenever a political candidate rolls up to the stage and announces he or she wants to change that … beware.  As they say in the backwoods of Georgia, “These folks ain’t from ‘round here!”

My mind raced back to the church and those old black and white pictures of our family members.  They were over 100 years old but the Constitution was over 100 years old at the time those pictures were taken!  It was signed by the original founding fathers of our country and they put all they had on the line to create America’s DNA.  What great men they were to do that for me and you and our family tree.

My nap was short and interrupted by a stop for gas.  As my husband pumped nearly $100 in our gas tank, (thank you Mr. Obama) I had this thought,

 “If pictures of me hang on a church wall 100 years from now at a family reunion, what will the family history book say about my life?  Will I have made my mark or only created a one liner that reads – “Born to So and So on Date and Died on Date.”

As you begin your week, I ask you the same thing.  You can choose to be a dash between two dates on a one liner or you can have a paragraph or even a chapter written about your life.  The choice is yours.  You can be a part of history or you can watch history pass you by – like the trees standing along I-95.

If you choose a paragraph or a chapter, then call our office and tell us – “I want to get involved in the movement.  I want to make a difference.”  We have a lot of work to do between now and November 2012 and we need you.  Please call our office at (904) 683-3945 and we will make time to chat and find out how best to use your talents (and yes you do have some!).  Each person is unique but all of us have American DNA.

We are family – like it or not.  It’s time to break bread together and get to work to fix this mess and save our country one more time!