My Posse

We are blessed with a passel of grandchildren. Until recently, they all lived within an hour of our house, which was a miracle we held as lightly as a soap bubble in summertime. Now three of the granddaughters live in different states and we are learning the art of distance relationships. We aren't very good at it yet, but we will get better.

One of our goals as the children grow is to host Cousin's Camp every year. I have been planning it since the summer we added two grandsons in three weeks. I had a glimpse of what our clan might become, and I wanted to make the most of it. Last summer we gave it our first shot. The oldest camper was eight, and the youngest was still in diapers. Day One was all about the boys. They are pictured here in the attire they wore for most of their stay. The hats once belonged to their great-grandfather, and I'm pretty sure he never expected to see them used this way.

The Camp coincided with the olympics that year, and we let the big boys spread their sleeping bags in the living room. They all stayed up late and held their breath with Grandpa until Michael Phelps' fingertips made that amazing brush against the pool and set a world record.

I hope I'll remember forever the sight of those gangly arms and legs in our living room as they leaped and shouted and high-fived one another. And I hope the posse will keep coming to Cousin's Camp at least until they are old enough to break some world records of their own.