Cape Cod Cousins
At one point, Sally claims to have been taller than 5 ft, but standing next to 2 of her 14 grandchildren who measure in at 6 and a half foot tall drinks of water I’m not too sure that was ever the case. The first of her 14 grandchildren is about to get married today and as she looks around the lawn at men in suits and women in dresses, she can’t help but marvel at her life’s work.
About 60 years ago, her first daughter was born. About 30 years ago that daughter had a daughter and she was named Alexandra. The first of many Gould cousins couldn’t say Poppa so in his late 50s she renamed Forrest, Bopper. 4 of the 5 siblings and their children lived within 30 minutes of each other in towns outside of Boston (except for one family who was so adventurous they moved all the way to Connecticut…which is like 2 hours away!) and spent summer vacations in one big house on the Cape in Bass River. We had freeze pops and watched the Olympics and played wiffleball and made sand castles on our very own beach. An army of little rascals listened to Nana’s speeches at dinner about Jesus and miracles and being nice to each other while laughing at Bopper’s sly sidecracks and backhand slips of 1 dollar bills, “It’s only money” he’d say if you tried to politely refuse. We lowered and folded the American Flag as the sun set and packed our mattresses together like sardines with salty air and slow fans rocking our sun-kissed, spent bodies to sleep.
Eventually, more babies and jobs turned those Bass River days into memories. Christmas and Easter brought us all back to 17 Coulton Park where the five families ate and drank and argued and laughed together again. We listened to Nana’s speeches at the dinner table and definitely didn’t refuse any of Boppers backhand slips of $1 bills anymore. One family now lived in Argentina and I lived in San Francisco, but other than that, everyone was living just outside of Boston, right where it started. The reunions were shorter and sweeter every year, but Nana’s speeches were still just as long. She had so much to say to so many people. So many miracles right in front of her eyes.
Alexandra also happened to be the first cousin on her fathers side to get married as well. Like the Goulds, the Cronins were Irish Catholic which meant there were too many of them. They also surrounded the Boston suburbs and vacationed with their grandparents on the Cape, but they had a few more houses to play in with a few more toys.
This is evident when entering the pearly gates of the Osterville Country Club where the manicured lawns felt even more pristine and precious than the cookie-cutter homes that dotted the center of town. Even the sticky humidity of the late Summer air was tempered by the bubble of old money that formed an invisible membrane over the entire gated community. No wonder these people wanted to Make America Great Again since the America they live in is so fucking terrible with their golf carts and rosé and yachts and Nantucket reds and backslaps and mexican rapists-I mean gardeners.
White chairs wait empty at the bottom of a fresh, green hill where the Clubhouse sits overlooking a small bay. A hot sun and a cool breeze make for a perfect union as birds chirp and guests laugh and shout in anticipation for the ceremony to start…and end so we can start the cocktail hour. Other mansions sit across the way with sailboats slowly gliding in-between. Sally takes pictures with her beanstalk offspring as she waits for the first grandchild to walk down the hill from the country club to meet her groom. Jane Cronin, Allies other grandmother walks over, her eyes smiling as if to say, “we did it” and hugs her. After 8 decades of life and nearly as many lives that they’ve brought into this world, there’s still room for wonder and awe. They’d seen this act before, but it felt like the first time all over again.