At this time of year, I come down with a mildly aggravating disorder that I have come to call Big Family Syndrome, i.e., too many people in the family.  My family of origin has become somewhat of a dinosaur in the 21st century: I am one of six children, born to parents of eleven children each, with 70 first cousins between the two sides. In other words, a lot. I thought I was marrying into a smaller, more compact, modern family: my husband is one of three siblings, one of seven cousins.  Yet, now I realize, I was deceived. Because in his family, they count second cousins and third cousins, many of whom live close by and keep in touch.  Truly, an extended family. Like our family, a clan, if you will.

 In June, it is particularly bad. No less than seven immediate family birthdays: Jim, Maura, Tom, Dan, Jen, Donald, Dick. Then, there are weddings, wedding anniversaries, high school and college graduations, Father’s Day, and the funerals of older relatives, which can and do happen all around the year.  With Aunties and Uncles in their 80’s and 90’s, there’s potential for deaths quite often, sometimes in clusters. On the other hand, in the last month, we’ve celebrated three 80th birthdays and a 60th wedding anniversary, so many of them are still hanging in there.

 As a child, I wasn’t aware of BFS in the same way. In my immediate world, big families were the norm. Likewise, my husband’s family was fairly insular, not only socializing together, but doing business and going to church together.  Of course, in school, I realized there was something a little different, but I thought it was kind of neat and special.  In fact I wrote an essay called “Rich in Family”, about some of the benefits of being part of a large family: sharing; strong sense of identity; learning patience and tolerance; always someone around to do something with; not being lonely; and not being too self-focused. In a large family, you’re never the center of the universe; and your problems have to wait in line with everyone else’s.

 It wasn’t until I became an adult, I realized how unusual and consuming it can be to be part of a large family, especially as the older generation ages.  Wow, there are a lot of things that can go wrong and ways that people need support: pulmonary embolism, prostrate cancer; rheumatoid arthritis; lung tumors, macular degeneration. Never mind the hip and knee replacements. Oh, boy!  So much to look forward to: we’re all linked genetically. We haven’t had so many weddings lately, or baptisms, but that, too, comes in waves. At a certain point, it becomes a logistical challenge – how to accommodate so many.  At our wedding, aunties and uncles were invited; but we couldn’t accommodate all cousins and spouses; sadly, they didn’t make the list.

 What I’m seeing now is that 1. the world is not set up for big families, and it’s harder to do and to appreciate, in terms of money, education, travel, etc. and 2. my world is smaller and fuller than I thought it would be. I can’t seem to plan “girls night out” or a weekend in NYC or hundreds of those little trips and activities that come with this time of life. My novel progresses so slowly, partly because I’m researching colleges for my son and Veterans benefits for my uncle and a foam mattress for my mother-in-law, etc. etc.  Finally, I find myself one of those people no longer so open to new friendships and relationships – my plate is FULL.  In the end, BFS is for real, as the times change and it’s become important to be lean, mean and mobile. But the passing of the large family is, in my mind, bittersweet, a loss to the world of human experience.