Stranger at the Door

Just as I was putting the finishing touches on my Christmas decorations, I heard the doorbell ring.

Who would be coming at this time of day?, I mused. It was

nearly seven o'clock on a Friday night. I didn't expect com-

pany for at least another hour or two.

It seemed to me there were always fewer hours to accomp-

lish the holiday shopping, baking, cleaning and other tasks accu-

mulating than there were hours to do them, especially, now that

this year,it was our turn to host the O'Brien family Christmas.

My husband, Harold, was in another room, chatting on the phone with his brother.

At any rate, I foolishly decided to answer the door.

When I opened the door, I saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar. Dark hair. Blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"I'm looking for Erin O'Brien Johnson. I'm told she lives at this

address,"she replied.

"And you are?" I asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically.

I am Diana Hitch Gordon, your Dad's second cousin,twice re-

moved," she continued while standing just outside the doorway.

Snow was falling gently behind her.

"Seriously?" I offered. Here it is, this close to Christmas, with scams coming out of the woodwork, and you're asking me to be-

lieve you're Dad's distant relative? Do you realize how long he's

been dead?"

"He died in nineteen fifty eight, at the age of fifty-two. You were less than nine years old,"was her reply. "You'd be surprised what you can learn on genealogy web sites. I've traveled quite a distance to meet you. I'm from Falls Church, Virginia."

"What possessed you to travel into snowy Minnesota in this weather? And why target me? I have six siblings, four of whom are older than me?"

"First things first," she offered. "I know quite a bit about your family. You were singled out because I"ve found that you've done

extensive research in not only the O'Brien family line, but in other

branches of your family as well. I figured that you are, at least, a serious amateur genealogist."

I was getting more intrigued by the moment.

"I am recently widowed, " she went on,"My kids were going to be unable to spend the holidays with me. So, rather than sit around the house, moping about my situation, I decided it was time to hop on a plane, rent a car, and go in search of more distant relatives."

I really didn't have time for this. My siblings and their children were to start arriving within hours for the usual holiday bash. There was always the unofficial party before the party. Who knew

when the first guest would arrive.? We were sure to have at least a few overnight visitors.

But, something about this woman seemed not only honest, but earnest in her quest. Maybe I had something to learn from her. Not only in genealogy, but also in hospitality as well.

"I don't know where my manners are. Please come in."

Stomping the snow off her shoes, she gingerly came through the door, slipping out of her wet footwear.

"You have a lovely home," she observed while looking around the foyer and on into the great room just beyond.

"We did an extensive remodel a few years ago. It made this old house a lot more livable. Do you drink coffee? I have a Keurig in

the kitchen, with several selections, caff and decaf. Or could I offer you some tea?"

"Boy that sounds good! Regular coffee please. It might help me to warm up a little. Your climate here is quite a bit chillier than what I expected."

As we chatted near the fireplace over steaming cups of coffee, I learned that she had recently retired from a long career in human services. She had two adult children: one a commercial airline pilot, the other, a nurse in a veteran's facility. Between them, they

had spouses and five children, two girls, three boys.

More visiting revealed she was, indeed, a distant relative. She pulled numerous records out of a burgeoning folder to prove it.

Before long, the first of the family horde began arriving. After

introductions were made, the conversation flowed as easily as the

Jameson and Bailey's.

Questions of, "Your relationship to us is what?" and "Tell us about yourself" abounded. This was going to be a long, jovial night.

It was well after midnight before Diana was headed back to her hotel, with a promise to return for the next day's festivities. Harold and I made sure other guests were settled down for the night before we locked up and turned out the lights .

The next day dawned sunny and bright, in spite of a good snow cover on the ground.

Sleepily, I crawled out of a warm bed in order to get the preparations for dinner underway.

Overnight guests began to awaken, stumbling into the kitchen.

Those more familiar with our kitchen prepared coffee, while other, at my instruction, made a breakfast of sausage gravy and

biscuits and juice.

Just as we were clearing the last of the dishes, the doorbell rang.

It was Diana!

"You didn't think I came to freeload, did you?' she offered, handing me a relish tray of shrimp, cocktail sauce, and other delicacies. "Show me the way to the potato peeler. I'll take care

of that chore."

In short order, the potatoes were peeled, boiled and mashed

as more relatives came in the door. Tables looked like they could groan with all food brought in as each guest arrived: lefse,herring,

broccoli and fruit salads. Sweet potatoes, scalloped corn, and cranberries were just a few of the offerings. And that didn't even start on the desserts.

After offering up the blessing, the line of hungry diners began to form around the food tables. Seating was arranged for everyone. A steady din hung over the table as people visited while

partaking of the feast.

Following the meal, the men cleaned up the kitchen, while the women visited. Following this, some family members participated in various board games or dirty bingo, while others,eager to share

information got out scrapbooks folders to peruse.

At its conclusion, nearly everyone thought the day had ended

all too soon.

When was the next family gathering?

Diana would have to be notified.