The setting was 1979 rural Iowa in the heart of a cold Midwest winter. I was twelve years old, a 7th Grader at Remsen St. Mary's grade school. Our family lived an idyllic 70s life in small-town America. Dad was our town barber. Mom was a homemaker, tending to every need of my family. Although a master of all household duties, her proudest role was that of our chief seamstress.

I went home last October.

My hometown is Remsen, Iowa. A small town nestled in the rural midwest with a current population of 1,650. It had been years since I had been back. I was excited to make the trip for the town’s annual Oktoberfest, an event that draws thousands to the little Luxembourg of Iowa.

Reunions.

Reuniting. Being there. For each other. With each other.

That was the tagline for my three sons this past week. A roller coaster of a week that started with their Grandpa Russ Lane being put into hospice care and then ending with them flying back for his Omaha funeral. In the days in between, the Lane brothers (Zach, Ben, Grant) took planes, trains, and automobiles cross country to attend my family reunion in Arizona.

Garrett and I spent this last Christmas in Kingman, Arizona with my parents and brother. With our own adult-age children scattered across the country, our empty-nesting Christmases come in all varieties these days. This year brought us to my parents’ home with me being back to being the kid in the family equation.