It’s all about the rolls.  Those warm, yeasty, buttery, straight out of the oven, hand made  rolls.  While there are many things to get excited about when going to the hollow or “holler”,  most of us lucky enough to be a part of this big family, even those of us who married into it, speak of these legendary morals of perfection with reverence.  My first exposure was when my future husband took me to the holler to meet the family and at the table was a bowl of these delectable rolls.  I was hooked.  I would have married Doug just to get his grandmother’s rolls.  Just kidding Doug.  Maybe.

Unfortunately his grandmother has passed, but the roll making has passed on to his Aunt Peggy, along with her famous cheese braids (we have one coming home with us to Nebraska), and what we laughingly refer to as Christmas “crack”.  Another grandma recipe, the peanut brittle is famous, with family members purchasing boxes to hand out to friends as gifts around the country.  Friends who apparently now assume it’s coming every year, according to my sister in law.

Anyway, back to the holler.  Twice a year, as many family members as possible get together with massive amounts of great food (did I mention rolls?) to celebrate Christmas and then again in May or June at a family reunion.  This is a family who loves each other unconditionally, who share their successes and their struggles.  It’s multigenerational, a village that looks after each other and something I have now been a part of for 2/3rds of my lifetime.  The first time I visited, it was like being on the set of the Waltons, especially for someone who rarely added more than two grandparents to their holiday gatherings of just the four of us and even today can be a bit overwhelming. This year our new grandsons were introduced to the big clan in the holler and just like I was accepted into the family 40 years ago, these wonderful boys  found that they too were immediately loved and accepted.  They joined a new generation of the “Bewley” family, the family for whom the holler is named.  I think Doug’s grandma would have gotten a kick out of them.

For those of you who do not regularly see hollers, I want you to imagine a little two lane road, winding among tall trees close to the road, with scattered houses on acreages.  As you approach the final curve to the right, you begin to go down into the holler. At the bottom to your right is Aunt Peggy’s house on the hill,  and the next driveway on the right belongs to my in-laws.   A little further down the road, which follows the creek on the right, you come to what used to be Grandma and Grandpa Bewley’s house and just past that over the bridge that crosses the creek the kids all used to play in, you drive up the hill to Aunt Ann’s house.  I remember as a young couple watching Doug play baseball in the summer with the cousins and football in the fall.  I remember sitting on the side patio of his grandmother’s house under the big tree drinking tea and listening to everyone’s conversations.  It’s a magical place for someone like me, a place where you can just be yourself, laugh and enjoy the company.

This year most of Doug’s immediate family was able to get together, his parents, both sisters and most of our families.  Conversations about computers and emojis and memojis and other -ojis were soon replaced with talk of family and neighbors.  You remember so and so?  She was so and so’s cousin?  She married such and such…  not having grown up there, the conversation sounded just like that I’m afraid, but still fun to listen to.  The gift opening traditions I’ve watched for decades passed down to our grandsons, the anticipation of seeing what mom wrote in the books she gave all the girls and watching all the guys play with their new “atomic” flashlights was so simple and yet so fun.  Everyone takes time to enjoy others opening gifts, telling stories and laughing.  It’s too crowded, a little warm and people have to sit on the floor and I love it.  I’m a lucky girl.

It had been a few years since I was able to partake in this treat for the senses – the sights, sounds and aromas that make this family so special – but making the 700+ mile trip with my little gang was more than worth it.  As we look to a new decade beginning in a couple of days, I look forward to making more memories with this family in the holler.