Blending the Old and New
Julie McGue
Author
Like me, many of you gathered with family over the July Fourth holiday week. It was a hectic time, wasn’t it? Weather-related travel delays, heavy storms interrupting outdoor meals, scorching beach days, grocery runs, elaborate barbecue spreads, endless clean up. It all came with the territory.
And once everyone arrived and the weekend got underway, none of it seemed to matter, did it?
I hosted my entire family at our lake house in northwest Indiana—all four of my adult children and their spouses/fiancé, along with seven grandsons, ranging in age from almost eight to one-and-a-half. Despite the miles they traveled from New Jersey, North Carolina, and elsewhere, everyone made it.
There was laughter and running on the beach while chasing seagulls, tears of frustration over smashed sandcastles, fatigue from poor naps, no naps, and sleeping in shared beds. There were bubbles and bug-catching on the patio, spilled juice boxes, dropped popsicles, crusty dino nuggets and hot dogs (too many of those), and lots of laughter and head scratching over shared memories from yesteryear.
Stories about our old collie, Yankee, and his fear of fireworks made it into conversation. Of my now forty-year-old daughter Colleen riding her bike with its training wheels in the Long Beach parade, muttering, “I think I can.” All significant and fun old reminiscences.
And now, because of the recent July Fourth family reunion, there are new memories.
My nearly eight-year-old grandson DJ, proclaiming on day one, with ketchup dripping from his smothered hot dog, “Lulu, can we do this every year?” Four-year-old Otto, whispered to me as he stared at my twin sister, a shy look on his round face, “You two do look alike, Lulu. But… you’re different than her.”
Then there were the precious moments when I had one of the grandkids all to myself for a sleepover, a time out in the cool house, a beach walk scouring for beach glass, or an evening spent practicing how to skip stones.
In the evenings, when the kids were tucked in their beds—or so we thought—my adult kids and I lingered on the patio with another Aperol spritz rehashing memories. Stories of their dad, Big Steve, his big laugh, his penchant for taking all day to cook ribs on The Big Green Egg, his insistence on family outings to our LaPorte tree farm to “check on things,” and his habit of blasting a favorite tune on the outdoor sound system for everyone on the beach below to enjoy.
And then, of course, came the teasing of me. My habit of clearing the table instead of lingering around the table with the crew, and for loading the dishwasher a certain way. The grumbling over my booking a family photo shoot and issuing a suggested wardrobe, followed by the praise over how much fun it turned out to be as the boys gathered around me, waving small flags, and giggling and pranking with their brothers and cousins. And after the beach photos were shot, how the young boys ended up in the waves drenching their smart, new red-white-and blue outfits.
It was a fabulous five days, blending the old memories with the creation of new ones. And that’s what we do when we pull loved ones close for holidays, birthdays, and special occasions. We blend the old with the new. And somehow it all feels right, despite who cannot be at the table.
In some ways, we pass the baton, don’t we, by organizing these gatherings. The old recollections are shared with those who can remember, while the new memories are gifted to the young to carry forward and someday share with the next generation. All linked by a holiday or a birthday—250th or not.
Maybe that’s why the work feels worthwhile. Because someday these little boys won’t remember the grocery lists, the thunderstorms, the piles of sandy towels, or the broken household items. They’ll remember chasing seagulls, eating popsicles, skipping stones with Lulu, hearing stories about their grandpa, and laughing with their cousins. They’ll remember how it felt to be together.
And so, as much effort as it was to put the weekend together—and despite the need for a carpet/upholstery cleaner and a few mishandled household items—it was a huge success. At least that’s how I will remember it. And perhaps that’s the best kind of family memory: not perfect but lovingly preserved.
Follow Me Here
September 6-22, I’m hiking a section of the El Camino again with Laura Davis’ group, The Writer’s Journey. I’ll be doing research for the third book in my memoir trilogy about my journey through love and loss while hiking the Camino.
October 9-11, Find me at the She Writes Press author retreat at the Westin Rancho Mirage Resort in Palm Springs, CA. Thrilled to be selected as a presenter for the panel, “Marketing for Memoirists,” and can’t wait to see my She Writes sisters.
Due to a publishing glitch, the second book in my Let’s Go with Lulu children’s book series, DJ and Lulu Go to the Car Wash, has been paused; it will release later in the year. It’s based on the real-life story about adventures with my oldest grandson during the COVID times.
Follow Julie by visiting her website, subscribe to her bimonthly newsletters, and listen to previous podcast recordings where she discusses topics like adoption, identity, family relationships, sisterhood and belonging.
Other News
Proud to share that Kirkus Reviews has posted a “Buy now!” recommendation for Jack and Lulu Go to the Tree Farm.
And, Matt Sutherland at Foreword Reviews interviewed me about my foray into children’s literature, here. He called the Let’s Go with Lulu series: Heartfelt children’s tales of legacy, love, and adventure.
“And perhaps that’s the best kind of family memory: not perfect but lovingly preserved.”
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