I met Uncle Leo several times, but I'll always remember our family reunion a few years back. Everyone sat in a circle and leaned in as Uncle Leo told us the story of how he managed to secure the public pavilion that very morning. How much of this is memory, and how much my mind exaggerated I’ll never know, but this is how I prefer to remember his story. He called a the city week ahead to reserve the pavilion, and the nice young lady on the other end told him the space was first come first serve. Uncle Leo would have nothing but the best for his family. He was determined to claim our place on a busy summer Saturday! He drove to the park at the crack of dawn. Already, there was a minivan that had just arrived, its hatch wide open. An old nun was rustling through the back of the van, pulling out blankets and coolers. He instantly surmised her dastardly intent. He grabbed his cooler (doubtless, full of his favorite whiskey) and began to walk towards the distant pavilion. The nun glanced up from her trunk and saw his direction. The old nun grabbed a blanket, left the hatch open and set out after him. He increased his pace. She increased hers. Soon enough, the two were neck in neck in a race to the ultimate prize. The pavilion came ever closer, and a ninety year old great Uncle Leo broke into a run for the final yards. He skidded into the pavilion first and slammed his cooler down on the nearest picnic table in victory. The family began to arrive a couple hours later from their homes across the country. The day went great. We met, mingled and played volleyball with family. Best of all, we reveled in the cool shade of the pavilion, whilst being serenaded by the local church's youth group singing with their acoustic guitars, settled under nearby trees. Rest well Uncle Leo
