Every year the extended McDonald Family has a reunion. Nobody seems to know exactly when it started, but I’m guessing it was at least 30 years ago. I remember returning to Lowville for it with my husband and my son in 1990.
I’ve been back only occasionally; the last time was 15 years ago. The town hasn’t changed much; nor has the number of people who live there. The cemeteries have more residents, mostly members of the older McDonald generations; the local schools still teach the younger ones.
I wondered whom I would know this afternoon at the local Fairgrounds. I certainly didn’t expect anyone to know me, other than my cousin Charlotte who keeps in touch. But I knew everyone would be a descendant of one of the thirteen offspring of Patrick and Johanna McDonald, my great grandparents.
I had reviewed the thirteens’ names and set them to memory. So when I was introduced to someone my point of reference was always, “What is your relationship to Patrick and Johanna’s children?” It was cumbersome, but it worked.
“My grandma was Patrick’s daughter Kate McDonald Kelly.”
“My grandpa was Patrick’s son Henry McDonald.”
“My grandpa was Patrick’s daughter Loretta McDonald O’Neill.”
As for me, my grandpa was Patrick’s son James Francis McDonald. He died in 1952 when I was eight years old, but I remember him clearly. My own mother was Jim’s daughter, who’s been gone 23 years.
Time doesn’t just march on anymore; it races by. Which is why we really came.
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