THE UMPTEENTH HOGAN FAMILY REUNION

Nestled in the verdant Hudson Valley, Roselawn Farm is — and has been for decades — the July lodestone for descendants of my grandfather, John Francis Hogan. Mom and her two sisters were raised on this multi-acred former horse farm 50 miles north of Manhattan, and each inherited a third of the property after Grandma Hogan died. There were numerous buildings on the property which soon became June-through-August vacation homes for the three families.

Every summer, when the sisters returned to Roselawn from their residences in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, we 11 cousins reveled in playing “cowboys and Indians” at our jerry-built Fort Apache on the Big Hill. We held jousting contests in “Sherwood Forest,” made gallons of home-made “boot beer,” captured crayfish in the brook and staged-less-than-Cecil-B-DeMille-ian skits in the hayloft of the old barn — always with a 25 cent admission that went directly from our jean pockets to the local candy store.

Last week, 40 Hogan relatives gathered at Roselawn for the Umpteenth. Through sale and attrition, the property now spreads over six acres which is still ample room for the five remaining original cousins accompanied by spouses, kids and grands. They came from California, New Mexico, Colorado, South Carolina, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Maine, New Hampshire, New Jersey and New York. They slept in bedrooms and on couches, in the pool cabana and in tents, plus a 35-foot-long RV. They wolfed down lobster rolls from Maine, sweet barbecued sausage from Brooklyn, shrimp cocktail from Philadelphia and chocolate-covered strawberries from North Carolina.

Brother Ross started the bash with a Friday night Poetry, Pizza & Popcorn Party at the old barn. After my son-in-law Tim read his poem (?), cousin Deb, who was serving as a judge, immediately stood up and said, “I need another beer.” The memorial “Dook Loane Softball Classic” (honoring our uncle who resembled Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh) ended in a 6-6 tie, and the 8 PM Hogan Talent Show in Hogan Hall (aka: the garage) featured guitar-strumming by cousin Joey who moonlights from his teaching job to play with Schism, a cover band for the rock group Tool.

One event pinpointed the poignancy of this (and any, to be truthful) family reunion. At 2 PM on Saturday, brother Ross invited us to “A Hogan Heritage Celebration” held at the labyrinth, a mossy area shaded by leafy maples and ringed with shells, created by my sister to honor our mother. As brother Robert played “Danny Boy” and “The Fields of Athenry” on his tenor horn, John Hogan’s descendants sat quietly in a circle listening to Chris, Paul, Joe and Billy read the names of “those no longer with us.”  When I heard Dad’s and Mom’s plus several of my cousins’ names, stifling tears was impossible.

We have no idea when the first reunion was held, ergo “Umpteenth.” We’ve celebrated at Roselawn and in County Clare, Ireland in the hometown of the Hogan clan. And I feel especially lucky that of the original 11 cousins, my two brothers, sister and I are still sporting the green teeshirts. 

Together my siblings and I share 339 years of conviviality, laughter and wisdom gained. We are always (nearly) on time, as Dad insisted. We treasure everything Irish, as Mom wanted. My brothers and sister are my roots and my rocks.

(This is the four of us several years ago —- see current photo below!)

But look closely at us: sister Robin and brother Ross have Parkinson’s, brother Robert suffered a severe stroke two years ago, and I am battling heart disease. We love each other immeasurably and are sadly aware that life is fleeting, so we treasure every moment we can be together. Erin go Hogan!

Here we are today — graying, creaky, achey but still standing! The Fab Four Forever!