Graber Family Reunion

Last weekend I blasted out to Middlebury, Indiana for an afternoon reunion with my Graber ancestors.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Abraham Graber. He married a sweet young lady named Rabena (whom everyone from then on referred to as "Beena"). This reunion that takes place each year is the gathering of the Abraham & Bena Graber Family. They had 12 children, three of which died in infancy due to pneumonia and other now-curable maladies. The oldest child that survived was my Great-Grandfather, Daniel Graber. He was followed by Allen, Ezra, Joseph, Ervin, Sam, Floyd, Esther, and Ruby.

Each year we get together for an afternoon just to see who's still around and kicking. My Great-Grandfather Dan passed away in 1993. Had he been present at this year's reunion, he would have been a ripe 102 years old. The others are in their 80's and 90's. The distance in age from Dan to Ruby was 24 years, so many of Abe's kids are still alive.

A reunion that takes all of 5 hours from beginning to end would seem simple enough, no? Well perhaps in theory, but this is Grabers we're talking about here, so the trip was fairly involved.

My cousin Ryan informed me that we should all make the effort of going to this year's reunion. I had wanted to go, especially once I heard that Ryan, a first-cousin my age, would be present. But general lack of interest from my family members was putting a soggy blanket on my proverbial reunion fire. The lack of interest was understandable, I guess. The reunion is held yearly in Indiana on a Sunday afternoon. A potluck meal is followed by lively conversation for a few hours, with a roll-call of sorts to see who's still alive, and then everyone heads home. It's difficult to travel 6 hours one way in order to spend a handful of hours with relatives. To compound the problem, many of the Indiana relatives (that have hardly any distance to travel) were absent from previous reunions.

I asked my grandparents, Lynn & Ruth Graber, if they were going. Grandma replied that she would like to, but Grandpa would go only if a really good bus trip didn't interfere.

In the meantime, I planned my birthday party for August 2nd, the Friday before the reunion. Without even trying, I picked one of the busiest Fridays of the year, and many of my guests couldn't make it. I then changed the date to Saturday, the 3rd. 45 minutes after changing the time, Grandma informed me that Grandpa and her would be taking a busload of IMS students partway to Washington D.C., and then driving a shuttle car to the reunion. Would I like to join?

I canceled my birthday party with a hasty promise to my guests that I'd reschedule it down the road, eventually, sometime. We left Friday around 11am, and to my dismay I found out that Grandma had developed a nasty cough and was too sick to go along. I hopped in the pickup with Grandpa, and our adventure began.

We drove his pickup to Cedar Rapids, signed in at the Windstar Bus Company office, and grabbed a shuttle car. Or minivan. A loaded, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink minivan.

 We drove out to the Iowa 80 Truckstop to grab some food. Grandpa and I solved some puzzles (the ones Grandma gave me for my birthday), ate some lunch, and moseyed around the giant truck oasis. You can find all sorts of sweet chrome-plated accessories for your rig there, with many of them proudly displayed on THREE SEMIS SITTING INSIDE THE ROOM. One entire semi tractor sat on a slowly-revolving turntable, so that you could admire every angle of its shiny goodness.

You won't defeat me, Level 3 riddle. I've got a secret weapon. "Grandpa, what do you think this means?"

We then traveled to a gas station to rendezvous with the bus. Upon its arrival, Grandpa and I hopped on. I recognized maybe three of the thirty IMS seniors. Eventually they figured out that I was Shane's older brother, whom they were friends with. A busload of Shane's friends with the audacity to call themselves High School seniors made me feel especially ancient.

Grandpa drove the bus to North Lima, Ohio, which is on the far East end of the state near the Pennsylvania border. It was such a blessing to travel with Grandpa Lynn. He is a wealth of stories and wisdom. During the trip we talked about a thousand different topics. Many of them focused on Grandpa's thousands of miles traveled on the roads in buses and semis.* A sampling of the topics were: Semi weight loads. Risking money on the stock market. Hitting things on the road while driving a bus. Semi drivers that would rearrange semi cargo with a creative tap of the brakes, in order to pass inspections at weigh stations. Traveling 300,000 miles with Grandma on a motorcycle, visiting all 48 contiguous states, Canada and Mexico, in the 12 years spanning 1980-1992.


*"Wait 42 seconds! Didn't your Grandpa own and operate Graber Heating & A/C? What's all this about driving trucks and buses?" Grandpa worked at Graber Heating for decades, but found time to drive semi for Twin County Dairy (AKA the Cheese Factory). After "retiring" from GHI, he started driving tour buses.

Grandpa quoted many memorable things, and I wish I had thought to bring a tape recorder along to preserve them all. 

"Once your [great-great] Uncle Sam bought a town in Alaska."

"I witnessed the drag run where Connie Kalitta went 300mph in a quarter mile. He was the first man to go that fast in the quarter."

"Most TV channels have the most idiotic drivel nowadays. They must think the viewers have the IQ of a snail."

"It's nice driving a bus in heavy traffic. When you use your turn signals, people get out of your way."

Grandpa told me about some of the complex hoops truck drivers have to jump through. Every mile in each individual state traveled has to be recorded for tax purposes. At the end of the year, each state gets paid a certain amount of tax for the use of their roads. "But isn't there road tax in fuel?" I asked. "Of course, but if we fuel up in Iowa and travel to New York on one tank, that's not fair. Or at least the states don't think its fair." So I helped him log the miles in each state driven.

By 2am Saturday morning, a relief bus driver met us and took the bus. We grabbed the shuttle car and drove to our hotel.

Windstar relies heavily on Toyota's for their shuttle vehicles, and they've got quite the track record. Several of the cars have 300,000 miles on them with nary a problem. This one was a relative baby in comparison, with only 200,000 miles on it.

We slept in til 9am and then back-tracked to Indiana. We spend the afternoon browsing through shops in Shipshewana and visiting points of interest tied to our Graber ancestry. I had wanted to go to the giant Auction & Flea Market but they only operate on Tuesdays and Wednesdays or some nonsense like that. While driving down one street in Middlebury, we were denied access. Four police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance had cordoned off the street. We were just sightseeing, so we turned around. I noticed some news vans and told Grandpa we'd have to watch the news later to see what happened. We watched the news, and we found out. But firstly, how can you Indiana residents tolerate waiting til' 11pm to watch your news?! What happened was an older woman got out of her car to help an injured groundhog on the street. While helping the poor critter out, she was struck and killed by an oncoming car. It sounded like something that happens in immature comedies.

Serious-Type News Release

Sentimental-Type News Release

Grandpa and I visited the house located on Jayco property. This home belonged to Great-Great-Great grandma Bena, before she sold the farmland to somebody who then sold it to Jayco, I think.

Someone carved a giant bird (a bluejay, perhaps?) into a tree stump. The house is now a welcome center for Jayco, and I think it also contains a "History of the Area" museum, but I'm not sure. They were closed on Saturday. Grandpa and I quickly developed a habit of visiting places based on whether there were vehicles in the parking lot, because everything else was inexplicably closed.

If you've met me more than one time, you know that I'm awful at remembering names. That evening, Grandpa and I ate a delicious meal at the Blue Gate restaurant. While we were there, I wrote out the family tree on the back of the paper place mat, so I wouldn't be as blind about my ancestors' names. I hadn't even known all the names of Great Grandpa Dan's siblings before that. I carried this paper with me the entire reunion, asking people which family line they came from. The paper quickly became priceless to me, and I got a lot more out of this reunion (and felt way less foolish).

I wrote out the family lines of Great Grandpa Dan, Grandpa Lynn, Great Grandma Mildred, and Grandma Ruth. Joseph's children added their family lines while I wasn't looking, but that was alright. Then Ezra or Ervin signed my paper. I think he thought it was an attendance sheet. 


Sunday morning I went to Greiner for church and met a lot of wonderful friends. I really should travel to Indiana more often so I can spend more time with those lovely folks.

After church, Grandpa and I went to the reunion, where we were surprised by Grandma Ruth. Lynn's sister Nancy drove out for the reunion and Grandma tagged along, even though she still felt a little under the weather.

Grandma and my cousin Ryan. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Ryan said he couldn't come, and I was sad, and then he came, and I was glad.

Great-Great Uncle Joseph. Just look at this troublemaker. 

"Uncle Joe! My little brother Shaylon has your name for his middle name."
"What! I didn't know I lost my name."

My great-great uncles are still sharp as tacks. Ezra came in slowly and stiffly. When we commented about it and asked if he was feeling old, he replied that he had just got done with a couple of rounds of BOWLING and was feeling pretty sore from that. He had bowled a 190 or something ridiculous.

Uncle Sam (the leprechaun in the white shirt) just cracked me up. After hearing countless stories about him and his stock market dealings, I had expected to meet a stern, severe old man with a permanent scowl etched on his face. I was never more mistaken in my life. I shouldn't be surprised that he turned out to be more Graberish than I could ever have wished for. He told some stories of our Graber ancestry during the sharing time. I could sit and listen to him tell stories for a WEEK, but his brothers didn't share that same sentiment.

"We shoulda never let Sam get the mic. We're gonna be here until 6pm!" Joseph said, with a twinkle in his eye.

Ezra began to tell a story, sans microphone. Nobody could hear him. "Hold on," Sheldon said, "Some Grabers are hard of hearing." A voice from the back piped up "Tell me one Graber who aint!"

I had heard rumors about Uncle Sam's wealth and was told that at the previous reunion, he handed out cash to each family member that showed up. But when Sam stood up and announced that every person present over the age of 16 would be getting a voucher for $500 toward any Christian non-profit organization of their choice, I was still speechless. He gave everyone under 16 a $100 voucher, to be donated with their parents assistance. Grandpa Lynn and I did some quick math: the 108 Grabers present in that room walked out with a little more than $42,000 in vouchers.

Sam informed us that he had set up an Abe Graber Heritage Fund, with the express purpose of blessing others in thanks for the way God has blessed us. The money he handed out wasn't even keeping up with the accrued interest of that fund. Grandpa and I did some more math to figure out how much principal would be required to make interest like that, and we came up with some skin-tingling figures."Now this isn't to bribe you to come to family reunions or anything..." Sam said with a laugh.

Joseph gave me a sweet family ancestry book, but with one stipulation. "I'm on my third Lennox furnace. The first one lasted 25 years, the second lasted 20 years, and this third one is new. But when it quits in 20 years, I expect you to come replace it for me!"

All Graber Heating furnaces have magical properties that allow them to work for 40 years at least, possibly because of our expert installations. Those Indiana contractors must be inferior workmen.

We ate large quantities of food and had many fantastic conversations. It was not a dull roar in that room of 108 Grabers. It was a full-out audio onslaught. It was wonderful.

Ezra, talking to Robert Reigsecker, who is the pastor at Greiner. I found out that Robert is a first-cousin to my Grandpa Lynn.

Some kids lining up for their $100 vouchers.

After things died down and the elderly Grabers called it a day, Grandpa and Grandma and I headed out. We drove the shuttle car back home and arrived late Sunday night. We had truly Mennonited our way out there, what with a free bus ride, free shuttle car and fuel, and a free hotel on Friday night.

 I took a quick attendance poll while we were at the reunion. The bottom, if you can't read it, says "Abraham & Bena had 9 children, 40 grand-children, 117 great-grandchildren, 128 great-great grandchildren, and 9 great-great-great grandchildren. (Not counting in-laws)"

Because I was furiously scribbling down stories and quotes and taking photos, several of the relatives thought I should write a book or something like that. If it allows me to hang out with my Graber relatives and hear more of their stories, I'm all for it.