Chapter 14

How do you describe a party that's got so much family that it takes up the entire back yard, and the barn, and the house as well? How do you even participate in a party that's got more people involved than commonly come to my church – well, mine and Cecelia's – for either of the two Sunday morning services? I tried to at least say hello to everyone, having met most of them before at one time or another over the years. It was a lot easier for them to remember me than for me to remember them – after all, the only white guy in the family stands out pretty well, and even if I didn't, Cecelia's appearance is so unique that just saying I was her husband would have placed me.

At different times I pitched horseshoes – and did middling well, but no better; helped fetch and carry lunch; played tag with a flock of kids, who proved conclusively that they were faster and had more stamina than I do; lectured three teenagers on just why it wasn't a good idea to walk through Daddy's field without any regard to what was growing there; and got hugs, kisses, and handshakes from all sorts of relatives I couldn't begin to keep track of.

Eventually it was time for supper. It was to be a protracted thing, even more so than lunch which hadn't been quick due simply to the amount of food and the number of people. Mama had cooked, and Cecelia had cooked, and various aunts and cousins and nieces had cooked, and even with all of us I suspected a lot of people would take leftovers home. I've never heard yet of there being too little food at such gatherings, and since the Johnstons like to eat – even Cecelia, who would look almost anorexic if she weren't so fit – everyone brought plenty, more than enough for the bunch that brought it.

Cecelia drafted me for a bit to help serve, but since I'd played pack mule during lunch she let me go after a bit, and I filled my plate and hunted a seat. I'd gotten myself a barbecue sandwich using thick slices of Cecelia's sourdough bread – I knew it was hers because no one else in the family bakes it – as well as a healthy pile of beans and a chunk of cornbread. I might decide I wanted more when I was done with that, but I was making it a point to leave room for dessert. I'd seen both pecan pies and cheesecakes in Mama's kitchen, and I love both, as well as fruit salad, angel food cake, red devil cake – what they call red velvet these days, German chocolate cake, and all the rest of the desserts I'd seen.

I was standing, trying to spot an empty seat, when a voice near at hand said, "Sit down here, Cousin Darvin."

I looked, and saw a gorgeous face smiling up at me - dark black, with the tilted eyes that a fair number of Johnston women seem to have, cornrowed hair, and a smile that was almost as brilliant as Cecelia's. She'd scooted over, and left enough room at the end of the bench for me. It would be close fellowship, but I don't mind that at all.

I set my plate on the table and sat down. "You know me, but while your face looks familiar I can't put a name to it."

She smiled more widely. "I'm Sweet Leaf Curry - your second cousin once removed."

"I can't keep all that cousin stuff straight, not though Cecelia's tried to teach me. What does that mean?"

"It means that my daddy's daddy was Cousin Cissy's great-uncle."

"I'll probably remember that for about 15 seconds," I said with a grin. "But we have met before. You was still a little girl with a gap in her teeth back then."

"Yep – I guess I was 7 or so. I remember you 'cause you're the only white man in the family."

"I was just thinkin' o' that a bit ago," I told her. In between sentences I was taking bites, and enjoying it thoroughly.

"Be hard to forget it," she said.

I laughed. "You mean 'cause I stand out like a light bulb in a dark room?"

Now she laughed. "That's exactly it."

"Meanwhile, you don't have as much accent as some of these people."

"I live up in Birmingham and go to an integrated school."

"Shoot, people live in cities an' go to integrated schools all over the country an' still have accents thicker'n Mama and Daddy's."

"Yeah, but I don't want to sound like I'm mad at the world."

I pointed a finger at her. "Now that's a lady after my own heart. I can remember when blacks had an accent, but just talked. Nowadays they all sound like they'd as soon shoot you as say hello."