Every year, for the Fourth of July weekend, my father’s relatives get together in northeastern Pennsylvania for a long weekend. In recent years, I stay in a hotel when I go. Each morning I enjoy a few cups of coffee and continental breakfast.
Then it’s off to see the kin, with all the sunburn, fattening food, dysfunctionality, and claustrophobia I can handle. Oh well, I should suppose it’s worth all the inconvenience, in return for incessant reminders of how annoying a kid I was forty to fifty years ago. I really hope my nerves don’t freak out on me.