Horns, Nails, and Alarms; The Wonderful Sounds of Togetherness
My husband’s family is great. I’ve always loved the fact that all 7 brothers and sisters really like each other. For the past several months, we’ve looked forward to a much anticipated reunion. The Florida coast gathering was long overdue for a variety of valid reasons. Covid shutdowns, cancer treatments, physical distance, and the challenge to coordinate schedules all precluded the joy in finally being together.
We pulled up to the rented house a few blocks from the beach. Shifting looks between us communicated a bit of concern. We were met with a bombardment of noise. Building crews were hard at work next door atop a roof under intense construction. I’ve never felt one with so many nails before. And then we entered the rental house which was, shall we say, a bit underwhelming. Scan of kitchen supplies yielded 5 forks, 4 coffee cups, and a pot big enough for a branch of broccoli. Narrow hallways and limited seating made our party of 12 feel extra close. No matter, however, we were just happy to be together.
The best part of our venue was the roomy outdoor porch. Reconfiguring tables with borrowed chairs from the cervices of the narrow house allowed us to create the perfect dining space.
As some of us were preparing the lovely porch space for our first dinner, my husband discovered the rental car battery was dead. After a call to the rental car agency emergency hotline, within minutes (yes, I’m serious), an emergency crew of one showed up, body cam and all.
No surprise, the battery jumped successfully, and the body-cam superhero instructed us to keep the car running and rev the engine to 5000 rpm’s every few minutes to help the battery restore itself to full capacity. My husband took the superhero’s words to heart. He put his foot to the pedal, and suddenly our compact sized rental car rivaled a jet engine on takeoff. I thought for a moment he missed his calling as an Indy 500 race car driver, but I couldn’t dwell on that thought because the sounds of the nail guns just feet away made me feel like I was inside a drum.
And then, the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen. What in the world was happening? The roofers kept pounding, the smoke alarm kept beeping, and the car engine was nearly airborne. The scope of very loud situations surrounding us was nothing short of earsplitting. Well, my husband couldn’t hear anything. He was still inside the Indy 500 virtual race track.
And then, as a finale to our Florida concerto, my sister-in-law appeared.
“ANYONE HANDY OUT HERE?” she asked, popping her head out the kitchen door, yelling louder than the symphony of car engine, nail guns, and smoke alarms.
“THE OVEN DOOR JUST FELL OFF,” she reported. We all doubled over in laughter.
Clearly, by her quick scan of those seated at the table, she didn’t appear to have any confidence in our ability to help. “WHERE’S DOUG?” was all she could say, looking for the only brother with handyman value. At the same time, those in the kitchen were frantically waving dish towels in attempt to circulate smoke coming from the oven with no door. I remained with the helpless crew, still laughing.
We all survived the concerto of loudness and craziness and managed to share a lovely dinner as we sat outside embraced by the warm winds of family friendship. Our weekend together imprinted all kinds of memories. We made a pact to gather again next year. As long as we bring my husband along to manage cars and Doug to manage everything else, we’ll be good to go.