The Five of Clubbs: The best club

"Cousins are like celebrities for little kids." -- Jim Gaffigan

Much has been written about the decline of the extended family. The "Encyclopedia of World Problems and Human Potential" even gives the decline its own entry and lists the cause: "the splitting up of the nuclear family ... is a critical factor in the breakdown of the extended family where grandparents, grandchildren, in-laws, uncles, aunts, cousins and others are in close relationship. A secondary cause is mobility, which uproots part of the extended family and takes it to a totally different region or even country."

I grew up in Kankakee, Illinois, with my maternal grandparents less than 5 miles away and with a set of cousins across town. I saw my cousins in Chicago and Springfield almost monthly. My cousins in Las Vegas and Texas were far enough away to seem exotic and they were seen less frequently, but we kept in touch through letters and the occasional, long-awaited, visit. I had neighborhood and school friends, but they all paled in comparison to my cousins. They truly were the celebrities of my childhood.

My other friends couldn't play Barbies "right" and never had as much interest in making "a radio show." Christmas Eve was not complete without the cousins' performance using my doorway puppet theater, requiring all our parents to squeeze together in the hall outside my room. As we grew up and went to college, the puppets eventually took their last bows, but we still relied on family gatherings as a chance to catch up, laugh and just enjoy being in each other's company. I never realized what a raucous crew we were until I brought my then fiance, Bob (the only child of an only child), to such an event. He eventually found his place among the "big personalities."

When we started getting married and having our own families, my father remarked that it might be the end of our traditional Christmas Eve with all of my mom's brothers, sisters and my cousins, because everyone would need to be with their "new" families. When my maternal grandmother died in 2006, I was really afraid his prediction might come true as we would no longer have our matriarch to hold us together. Instead, we started having a "memorial" Christmas party in her and her twin's honor for the residents of the nursing home where they spent the last years of their lives. This event was preceded by a family party the night before. It's typically the first weekend in December, so we can accommodate all the families' different holiday schedules.

I know not everyone has a big family to turn to. Sometimes we need to create families from the friends whom we love. Bob and I are so close to our graduate school friends, our kids refer to them as aunts and uncles. My sister and brother-in-law are their only "real" aunt and uncle, and it seemed like a good idea to have more. They also call my cousins their aunts and uncles. We tried to figure out once what my cousins' kids were to them (Second cousin? First cousin once removed?), but we just went with "cousins," bringing their total from two to 25.

I am extraordinarily blessed to have the extended family that I do; however, I also can't help but appreciate the concerted effort we make to not let those causes identified by the "Encyclopedia of World Problems" separate us. Three out of four of my mom's siblings have been divorced. Several of us have moved to different states and one of my cousins even lived in Zambia for a few years. There have been complicated relationships, job trouble, health issues and loss. But, through it all, we have made each other a priority, not to mention Facebook friends.

When we were expecting our second child, I worried about how the new baby would rock our first child's world. People had said it was the emotional equivalent to your husband coming home with another wife and assuring you he loved you just as much. But then I read something that was obvious and yet hadn't occurred to me: the sibling relationship is typically life's longest lasting relationship. I thought about how my mother and her siblings worked together as their parents' health failed and realized how wonderful it was they didn't have to go through that alone. Even though their spouses might love them and try to understand, there wasn't the same amount of shared history, let alone shared DNA. This also applies to cousins. When my father died in 2010, my cousin Bill would periodically text me to let me know something had reminded him of my dad ... wearing new corduroy pants or seeing somebody backed into a parking space (my dad always made fun of a boyfriend of mine who did that, nicknaming him "Back 'em up"). Just knowing someone remembers those things because they knew them as long as you did, who has childhood memories of this person you lost, is a great comfort. And so now I periodically send messages to Bill when something happens that makes me think of his dad, my Uncle Denny, who died last August.

We all have that need to see and be seen, to be loved and to love, to belong. My cousin Rebecca was once having trouble with cliques at school and her brother wrote her a note reminding her she was part of the best club, The Yohnka Club. Whoever your tribe may be, by blood or by choice, hang on to them. You need them. In good times and bad, there's nothing like knowing you'll always be part of the best club.