Last year, the family decided to have a family reunion, something that we haven’t had in probably 25 years. My sister-in-law notified me of the day, time and place. I hadn’t received an invitation but assumed that it was an over site and not a snub.

When we got to Lumber Jack Park, the traditional place for family reunions, we got our food out of the car and proceed to the picnic shelter that was designated for our reunion. Finding an empty spot at the picnic tables, we put on a table cloth and put out our place settings.

While there were about 70 people there, there were only a couple of people that we recognized, so we approached them and struck up conversation. And there were a few people that came over to us and introduced themselves to us. After about a half hour, we were told that it was time to eat.

After eating, everyone was instructed to stand up, one at a time, and introduce themselves and say how they were related. Every thing was fine until it was my turn. When I stood up and announced who I was, there was a gasp followed by complete silence. And seeing that all eyes were suddenly fixed on me, I felt a little uncomfortable. Finally, one of my relatives came up to me and said, “We thought you were dead!” I reassured them that I was quite alive, though I was perplexed at the comment. Later, my cousin explained to me the details of my death.

It seems that a number of years ago, some of my cousins, whom I haven’t seen since I was 12, asked my aunt “what ever happened to Ned?” Thinking that they were referring to my uncle Ned, she replied that he drowned in the Pacific. (Uncle Ned, whom I never knew and whom I was named after, drowned at sea while serving aboard the USS Franklin in the South Pacific.) And even thought we were not close, my cousins were quite shocked at that information. Soon, the word was spread amongst that families that Ned had drowned.

I guess this explains why I didn’t get an invitation to the reunion.