A Family Photo, Plan C, and Coming Up Short

a-family-photo-and-plan-c

cousins 1994

cousins

I wanted a family photo.  How hard could one photo be?

I figured it would not be a problem because we had five days together at a family wedding in San Diego, the first extended family gathering since the death of our parents. Twenty-seven of us made the trip from all over the country. I wanted a picture of my family and a photo of the extended family to bring home.

I knew if my mother was still alive, the photo would have made the printed-out agenda, typed up and emailed to all of us at least three weeks before the event. Past family reunions consisted of assigned meals with a grocery list attached, a detailed itinerary, and the grandkids (my children and their cousins) being instructed on preparing an act for the family talent show, even if that act consisted of standing up front and delivering a few knock-knock jokes.

Mom was a Super Organizer.

We arrived in San Diego last weekend with no menu. No grocery list. No agenda. No plan.

My siblings and I joked that we were going to wing it. It felt a bit like flying around with one broken wing, but hey, we could do this!

Couldn't we?

After a day of travel, followed by a perfect beach-loving day, the day of the wedding blew in with a storm and a threat to empty the skies precisely at the time of the outdoor wedding. We crossed our fingers, purchased umbrellas, and arrived at the venue at 3:30 for the family picture.

We arrived to a deluge and a mad scramble to set up the wedding inside. With Plan A scrapped, we struggled to come up with Plan B.

We had no plan B.

Mom would have had a plan B.

Even the hopes of capturing an inside picture with our immediate family was foiled when one of the grandchildren refused to participate. We weren't worried, we would get the shot later in the evening, maybe after the meal. Didn't happen.

Plan B failed.

We had no plan C.

Mom would have had a plan C.

On the final morning, the cousins decided to get a group shot on the beach without the bride and groom (who were obviously on their honeymoon). As we grabbed jackets and shoes, I suddenly remembered a family reunion that also hadn't gone as planned when the cousins were younger. The week--twenty-two years ago--had been spent at the Freeborn County Fair where we looked at farm machinery and had petted the baby calves in one of the barns. The next day Dad had hooked up a trailer filled with hay for a hayride around the property. We also had organized a carnival in Mom and Dad's backyard with a pinata, paint facing and a target toss.

The first group photo had been attempted of everyone's painted faces. Didn't happen. The children organized a coup of too many toddlers needing naps. Plan A had been a bust.

A second photo, Plan B, had been attempted at a playground, because, hey, what kid wouldn't be happy at a playground. Four kids cried while another attempted an escape. Plan B had been a bust.

Finally, on the morning of the last day, we had tossed all the kids on a couch in a last-ditch effort and had snapped photos while two of the children screamed bloody murder. Even with an entire week together, all those years ago, my mom, the Master Planner, could not manage a perfect photo.

Which, suddenly, gave me hope.

At that time, Mom had been 9 1/2 years into the grandparenting gig and 12 years into the extended family event planning role and still had come up short. I also realized--in a moment of clarity--that she never had a Plan B or a Plan C, but had learned to roll with the punches. My siblings and I are not quite 3 years into not having parents and we are still figuring it out. How do we do this extended family thing without a family home as a focal point? Without the organizer organizing us?

What do we do when Plan A and Plan B fail?

What do you do?

Try again.

Part of being a family and entering into this human experience is not giving up in the chaos and the mess of a thunderstorm that cancels the organized photo shoot with perfect hair and coordinated outfits, and you just run out to the beach in the wind and "the lighting is terrible" sun and make a memory.

Because, guess what? Memories are often about Plan C, orchestrated as you go along, with a wing and a prayer.

(And maybe we can add the bride and groom with Photoshop.)