I just attended my cousin’s wedding in Indiana. The reception out on the Family Farm was in a tent so large, I’m sure the neighbors were wondering when the elephants would arrive. Inside it was strewn with lights and swaths of fabric, a dance floor and a band, plus formal seating for 180 people. Linen tablecloths, napkins, and fine china contrasted with the grassy earth beneath our feet, and the food was all locally produced within five miles. It was like something you only see in the movies.
But what amazed me most about this wedding was the sense of family. I flew down from Alaska to attend, and when I showed up several days in advance, my uncle gave me a big hug and handed me a knife. “Do you mind peeling some onions?” I worked for hours over the next few days helping prepare for the gathering. And I’ve never been more honored. I was treated as if I lived right there and got to see everyone all the time, and although I was born and raised in Alaska, I’ve never felt more “locally grown” than I did at that wedding.
My cousin got to start her new life surrounded by the best gifts a bride and groom can get – the love and support of family, no matter how far flung the members might be. And I got to be a part of something large and whole and wholesome. Family.
