Poor Mom. We've surprised her so many times this weekend, she jumps when somebody knocks on the door, thinking it's another relative she hasn't seen in forever. First it was her brother Jerry, whom she hadn't seen in five years. All of Mom's kids hadn't seen him in 20 years - he doesn't travel west much.

Then yesterday, my girls took their Grandma shopping and kept her out of the house for four hours while my sisters cooked and decorated for a surprise party. Right on cue, she showed up to find 50 friends and relatives standing in her front yard, yelling SURPRISE! Gotcha again, Mom.

It was a great party - lots of laughing and reminiscing. At around 4 p.m., the third surprise arrived - a bunch of Mom's friends from church. We left them in the patio room, with Mom keeping court.

Finally, at around 10 p.m., the last surprise of the day arrived and it was a surprise for me, too. My cousin George, who lives in Washington state, walked in the door like he was just in the neighborhood and wanted to drop in.

We talked for hours - we're all great storytellers and know how to make each other laugh. Maybe that's an inheritance from our Mor Mor (mother's mother), who would tell us stories of her native Sweden and the island she grew up on.
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We all met at Mom's house again this afternoon. More talking, eating, laughing. George (Buddy) has been researching the family tree and got all the way back to 1730 on the Hammer side (my maternal grandmother). There's talk of a family reunion, the biggest decision being where to hold it.

I remember family get togethers when I was little. Uncle Ralph and his guitar, teaching us campfire songs - he was a kid magnet though he never had children of his own; Uncle Gerry with his quiet strength and gentleness - the little ones all loved him; Uncle Bud (George) who didn't want anyone to know he was old enough to be a grandfather, and who loved to tell us jokes and funny stories; Uncle Art - kind of a cross between John Wayne and Charles Bronson - tough as nails; Aunt Thyra who was gone from Illinois to SD by the time I was six. When we moved to SD, she taught me how to tailor clothing - not just how to sew, but how to measure and cut and make a garment that fit perfectly. I loved her very much, and although she didn't always approve of us over the years, we knew she loved us right back.

Wish I didn't have to work this week - I'd love to hang out with Mom and the gang.