How My Cousins and I Healed a Family Rift

Our families were estranged for five generations

Beth was my first cousin, but I barely knew her. She was my age. Our fathers were brothers but we lived in different states. We shared the same family surname. Sadly, I only remembered a few brief happy encounters with her from my childhood.

Eventually we moved 2,500 miles apart, so our paths were not going to cross as adults. That is, until that life-changing week when a heartfelt letter was mailed and promptly answered.

You see, our families had been engaged in some kind of feud that preceded our births. Everyone held a grudge against somebody else over bad debts, jealousy, gossip and other reasons we will never quite understand. Those secrets they took to the grave.

Certain people were considered troublemakers. When an extended family member would come to town, not everyone would show up to welcome them.

I don’t want to throw any of my immediate family members under the bus. But they were partly to blame, and it was complete nonsense.

They arrived in the US in the early 1900s for factory jobs and settled in the same ethnic neighborhood where English was not the first language. They attended the same church, shopped at the same small markets, and used the same recipes to bake kruschikis — powdered sugar desserts.

Perhaps due to such close quarters, the families simply knew too much about each other.

In fact, my maternal and paternal grandparents lived about five houses apart. To my knowledge, they never stepped foot into each other’s homes. Although I remember them, visits were not a regular family event, nor were they warm and loving occasions. The truth is I was somewhat scared of my grandparents. I’m sure…

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