Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.Circles of life at the backyard barbecue by J. G. Fabiano One of my favorite times of the year is finally here - the end of another school year. It is the one time of the year when I actually feel young again because, even though I am now 53, summer vacation always brings back memories of a time when I wasn't the teacher but rather the student. I can remember my first experience with summer. I was seated at a long wooden picnic table, on a connected bench that had more splinters to it than seat, and all my family was around me. I know I was little because I didn't care what I was wearing or how the hell I got there. The older I get the more this attitude has a tendency to reappear. I remember all that was going on around me. I watched my two sisters in their bright yellow dresses and white straw hats covered with plastic flowers as they whispered to each other about things I would never know. I also remember my father in his shorts and funny cook's hat, standing at a smoking black grill. In one hand he held a spatula and in the other a can of beer. Since I do the same thing today I assume it must be genetic. Every now and then someone would walk up to me and pat me on the head and I could never figure out why. I loved watching my family enjoy themselves on a summer afternoon. Everyone always laughed a lot and, later in the day, formed themselves into little groups that would talk well in to the night. Sometimes the men would set up a game of horseshoes that would leave the lawn looking like it had been trampled by the Budweiser draft horses. Some of my relatives would fall asleep in their chairs and everything would carry on around them until they woke up again and joined back in the conversation. I never took a nap during those long summer days because I didn't want to miss anything but, I didn't drink beer back then either!When I was old enough to wander off on my own I would leave the sanctuary of the picnic table with all the women of my family and join my cousins in a perpetual run around the backyard. One thing I noticed back then was most of the barbecues were in our backyard. I assumed it was because my father had the grill and always had plenty of beer. Running past the various tables and chairs I noticed that the same people always gathered in little clusters. In one corner, under a big blue and white striped umbrella that looked like it belonged on some exotic Caribbean beach, sat all of the aunts and great aunts of my family. They were dressed in their summer's best and had their chairs arranged so that the eldest were protected from the sun by the umbrella while the youngest were on the outside, protected by wide brimmed straw hats, which had wide colorful bands above the rims. I was never interested in this group unless one of them called me over to give me money or something to eat. Since I was born in July, the summer was always a motherlode for me because most of my aunts gave me money. I have no idea how much they gave me because I never kept it but I knew it felt good to be given money. Running further through our backyard I would pass another group composed mostly of uncles and great uncles who would talk about things about which I had no understanding. Each of them would have a beer or a cocktail in one hand while the other hand punctuated whatever important point he was trying to make at the time. Most of my uncles and great uncles were Italian so their sentences required a lot of punctuation. Every now and again they would break away to take their turn at horseshoes, which was set up as a round robin competition. I remember the same uncles always kept on winning while the losers talked of things called `ringers.' I never knew what a ringer was and guessed it must have something to do with the sound the horseshoe made when it hit the metal stake. During the afternoon this group would thin out as several of the men wandered off to take a nap, which was also known as "passing out." At the time I had no idea that "passing out" had anything to do with how many beers they had drunk. The older I got the larger our backyard barbecues seemed to get. As my sisters and cousins got older they brought friends of their own and formed their own little groups, usually huddled in a corner by the fence so nobody could hear what they were talking about. Then came the time when my sisters brought their boyfriends to be picked on by the rest of my family. This happened until they got a bit older and then disappeared from the backyard barbecue completely for a couple of years until one day they would be back with a new husband and a family of their own. I remember bringing my first girlfriend to the family barbecue. The ladies huddled around her and told her how beautiful she was and how we made the perfect couple. It was a long time before I took another girlfriend to the barbecue because, after that first experience, I never saw that particular girl again! The next girl I took was the girl who would become my wife and, again, she was whisked off to meet the many different groups in the backyard. After a while she came back to me and told me what a great family I had. A life-long decision was made on that summer afternoon. Years passed and the summer backyard barbecue changed venues. My father surrendered his hosting duties and, to my surprise, the families started coming to my home. The interesting fact about this transition was that the groups didn't change. The islands of people found new areas to camp out in and quickly became a tradition in my backyard, the only difference being that my wife's family intermixed with mine. Horseshoes gave way to Bocce and the day came when my uncles and great uncles no longer wanted to compete and would join the women and the babies at the picnic table. They rarely joined in on the conversations anymore and spent much of their time entertaining the youngest members of the family. The saddest time was when they left forever and went to someplace we hoped and prayed was better for them. I remember, not so many years ago, when my daughter was introduced to the family barbecue. She was all dressed up in a bright yellow sundress and sat at the picnic table, seemingly proud and happy to be part of our big and noisy family. What bothered me was all the aunts and uncles who kept patting her on the head. I could see she didn't like it but she put up with it because, somehow, she knew this was what she was supposed to do. Now, it's one of my favorite times of the year again. The sun is out longer and I can set up my backyard for the many barbecues that will take place over the summer. The only question I have is which group I will belong to this year. THE END
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