My brother and I were a touch anxious on the eve of visits from our mom, as well as uncle and aunt from Texas, for the 4th of July weekend. The thought of entertaining family, particularly mom, can be stressful. They arrived on separate flights Wednesday morning and along with their brother (my uncle), a Queens resident I only see when my mom is in town, they spent their first morning touring their old Bushwick Brooklyn neighborhood. Not content to merely pass through the old neighborhood, my mother somehow convinced the current resident of their old tenement (we're going back to 1958 here), to let them in to see how the place had changed - determination apparently, can move mountains and deadbolt locks. A family dinner later that night featured visits from yet another aunt and uncle, residents of the Poconos (my mom has 9 siblings), and thus the mini family reunion was on.
The plan for Thursday was to meet for lunch in the city, I made a reservation for us at Chimichurri Grill. Sadly, and for reasons other than my salivating taste buds, things took a turn for the hard to believe. My Texas uncle, Bo (seriously), called to inform us that my aunt had suffered a medical problem relating to her Multiple Sclerosis. A series of doctor calls and referrals later, and my aunt had been admitted to Mount Sinai Hospital. The issue was not so much that she was in severe distress but rather that treatment for outbreaks of the type she was experiencing needed to be administered immediately. Wanting to give my aunt and uncle room to breathe while they dealt with the turn of events, my brother, mother, and I had dinner that night in Brooklyn with a long lost cousin, my mom's nephew, who I had happened to run into by chance only weeks earlier.
On Friday, the 4th of July, we headed uptown to Mount Sinai. We gathered in my aunt's private room (she apparently has great coverage), and made the best of the situation. This is not how any of us expected to celebrate the 4th but we Puerto Ricans know how to survive in adversity, it's true. As the room filled up with Queens Uncle, Poconos Aunt and Uncle, Long Lost Cousin, my mom, brother and I, we decided to move the gathering to one of the interior courtyards of the hospital. While the sisters shared some quality time, the men scavenged the neighborhood for food and coffee. Despite the circumstances, we had a great time chatting and eating, taking over that courtyard like we owned the freakin' place.
For Saturday, Queens uncle had planned a big dinner at his place. It would only work, however, if Uncle Bo could convince the doctors at Mount Sinai to let my aunt self administer the last two cycles of her treatment. While we awaited word, the family reassembled at the hospital. Food and drink in the courtyard was once again had. Once we knew permission to leave that evening had been granted, the bulk of us went to Queens to help with preparations for the feast. Later that evening, and despite the complete lack of alcohol - only my brother Dennis and I drink - the dinner was a smashing success, ending at 2am only because folks were flying out early that morning.
Despite the fact that most of the holiday weekend was spent in a hospital, I had a really great time. We caught up, ate, teased each other, played Dominos, ate some more, survived, and laughed a lot. We didn't dine at any great restaurants, shop at any fine stores, or experience any great arts, yet somehow we parted with huge smiles on our faces. Much like that two bedroom apartment in Bushwick shared by my mom and her 9 siblings, it was a weekend, tough though it may have seemed, that I will gladly revisit in my memory years from now. La lucha, it binds us.
The plan for Thursday was to meet for lunch in the city, I made a reservation for us at Chimichurri Grill. Sadly, and for reasons other than my salivating taste buds, things took a turn for the hard to believe. My Texas uncle, Bo (seriously), called to inform us that my aunt had suffered a medical problem relating to her Multiple Sclerosis. A series of doctor calls and referrals later, and my aunt had been admitted to Mount Sinai Hospital. The issue was not so much that she was in severe distress but rather that treatment for outbreaks of the type she was experiencing needed to be administered immediately. Wanting to give my aunt and uncle room to breathe while they dealt with the turn of events, my brother, mother, and I had dinner that night in Brooklyn with a long lost cousin, my mom's nephew, who I had happened to run into by chance only weeks earlier.
On Friday, the 4th of July, we headed uptown to Mount Sinai. We gathered in my aunt's private room (she apparently has great coverage), and made the best of the situation. This is not how any of us expected to celebrate the 4th but we Puerto Ricans know how to survive in adversity, it's true. As the room filled up with Queens Uncle, Poconos Aunt and Uncle, Long Lost Cousin, my mom, brother and I, we decided to move the gathering to one of the interior courtyards of the hospital. While the sisters shared some quality time, the men scavenged the neighborhood for food and coffee. Despite the circumstances, we had a great time chatting and eating, taking over that courtyard like we owned the freakin' place.
For Saturday, Queens uncle had planned a big dinner at his place. It would only work, however, if Uncle Bo could convince the doctors at Mount Sinai to let my aunt self administer the last two cycles of her treatment. While we awaited word, the family reassembled at the hospital. Food and drink in the courtyard was once again had. Once we knew permission to leave that evening had been granted, the bulk of us went to Queens to help with preparations for the feast. Later that evening, and despite the complete lack of alcohol - only my brother Dennis and I drink - the dinner was a smashing success, ending at 2am only because folks were flying out early that morning.
Despite the fact that most of the holiday weekend was spent in a hospital, I had a really great time. We caught up, ate, teased each other, played Dominos, ate some more, survived, and laughed a lot. We didn't dine at any great restaurants, shop at any fine stores, or experience any great arts, yet somehow we parted with huge smiles on our faces. Much like that two bedroom apartment in Bushwick shared by my mom and her 9 siblings, it was a weekend, tough though it may have seemed, that I will gladly revisit in my memory years from now. La lucha, it binds us.
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