Last weekend A few weekends back , we meandered way down yonder to the Satilla River swamplands for Aunt Nell's 90th birthday celebration in the old pecan grove.
I took up residence at the best Air B&B in town - well, technically on the outskirts of town : my cousin Chuck's Place.
Now, technically, Chuck is my second cousin, but he is also the veritable Fun Uncle if ever an uncle was fun.
Amenities at Chuck's Place include a good cup of Folgers each morning, a crazy little lap dog to stay entertained, and the best chats with a kindred spirit that stretch well beyond twilight.
You might spot a variety of critters, pick blueberries, ride a four wheeler or cool off in the swimming’ hole - so long as you don't mind love nibbles from the fish .
We pulled into the driveway a minute shy of midnight to find Chuck and my other cousin Dillon wrapping up a backroads session in Chuck's Wrangler.
Country roads can take you home or for a wild ride, depending on who's driving. With Chuck at the wheel, it was both.
They'd spent the day wrangling dirt roads and now it was time for everyone to go home and get a little shut eye before the next morning's get-to-gather.
We hopped in the Jeep and, sped on by Southern Rock and Chuck’s wildcat stories, we delivered Dillon back to his own car at a nearby truck stop.
Yes, actual wild cats… “A few years ago, we had a panther in those bushes (a.k.a. Chuck's front yard) a bobcat across the way, and just over there a piece, some coyotes were spotted not long ago…
Back at Chuck's, we dropped our bags in Charley’s girlhood room and took the nickel tour. Not much had changed since we last stayed there. A cozy room set up for Dillon- had he decided to stay. The office had been slightly re-arranged.
It was my privilege to peek into all Chuck's little desk drawers without having to plunder. One by one, he showed me their treasures. It's just the kind of thing I like to see.
There were batteries and flashlights that might still work and chapsticks of various flavor. We joked about the number of big belt buckles Chuck owns, and laughed at the irony of his not wearing a belt,
Chuck is not the sort to toot his own horn, but I noticed one of those buckles was for 15 years of loyal service.
There are plans to weld wild animal sculptures from all the metals we found. Oh yeah, he can do that, too.
He commands the flow of electricity to where it's supposed to be, where I could only manage to electrify me.
He can take things apart and put them back together the way they go. When he is finished fixing stuff, it actually works like it is supposed to, or sometimes, better than it ever did.
As someone who can knock her own lights out (thrice!) while merely cleaning a room, I am always in awe.
Rye brought her Cabbage Patch, Rose and Chuck brought out his Cabbage Patch Tyrone. It was a Cabbage Patch Cousin Sleepover. Rye tucked the dolls in securely next to her, but in the morning, she had relocated them way over yonder on the far side of the bed with her young and restless sleep. 
We spent the next four hours trying to catch up on the past five years - promising intermittently to not let this much time slip by again.
At some point, it seemed wise to go grab a quick nap if nothing else (and there was nothing else, we'd left no margin) Saturday's festivities would soon be underway.
It has become a tradition whenever the Augusta bunch visits the Waycross crew, for those staying on til Sunday to sit out by the pool at whichever relative's hotel has the most welcoming patio.
And so, it was.
After a meal at B Mac's Buffet and having crossed paths with many of Chuck's friends from town, we kept up the family tradition at the Best Western, where two aunts and three cousins were staying.
Rye and I retired to Chez Chuck, slept in a little on Sunday morning, then got to (finally) meet the one and only Great Uncle Wayne.
Before we left, Chuck gave me one of his old drills - he told me he had plenty, and even a brand new set, but this one still had plenty of life left in it.
It is a green Craftsman, I named it Shrek.
He carefully showed me how to change the bits and explained the pros and cons of different screwheads
I told him then about my recent attempt to install a large curtain rod with just a screwdriver, leaving out the many whacks to my head.
But, he understood screwdriver slippage and told me the house we were in was built without the benefit of power tools (This is an amzing fact, if you've ever been in his well organized garage) His collection has grown since then.
I'm grateful for Chuck's generosity, the wealth of knowledge he shares, and his genuine hospitality (it's the only place I've ever stayed that calls me to make the reservation.)
Most of all, I'm grateful that we are family.
