Last night we went to a wonderful 70th birthday party for my cousin Jim (who will always be just Jimbo to me) up near where Delycia used to live, in Holliston, MA. We had a leisurely drive up, as we always seem to do when we head north, and another restful ride on the way home, after one of the finest family parties I can recall. It was held at Jim’s wife Judy’s brother’s home, a fairly new, spacious, and stylish house with plenty of room for a party. What I loved most about it was the chance to enjoy the tasty dinner side by side with Delycia and my cousins Tony, Patrick, and Jimbo. We talked of many special things as we ate – old cherished memories of a scattered family that, despite being strewn out across the country, is stronger and closer than we sometimes think. I felt a closeness to my cousins as we ate and talked, a closeness that comes, I think, from something richer than regular friendship, something having to do with sometimes forgotten family bonds. There was goodness with us at the table, the generosity and kindness of spirit that I’ve always felt when with the descendants of my grandparents. We’re not perfect people, but Nana and Banka did start a family of deeply kindhearted people, and Delycia and I felt fortunate to be with some of them last night.