My mother was a Mason.  Not a stone cutter or brick layer, she was a Mason by birth.  My grandfather was Walter Mason, and she was his oldest daughter.

But like any good Mason, my grandfather built things, and in this case, it was a big family.  My mother was the second child, the oldest daughter out of a brood that would grow to ten, count them ten, children.

Like any family, there are stories of fights, of sadness, of joy, of pain, of deaths and births.  But through it all, they remained a family, the Mason family, stuck together with the mortar of not just common heritage, but of love.

I will admit, the family is a motley bunch, especially when you start including the in-laws.  They consist of homemakers, construction workers, college educated social workers, factory workers, and painters.  When you start including the kids and grandkids, it gets even more diverse.

It was always a little intimidating to get together with them as kids - and even now as adults - we were the quiet country cousins, uncouth in the ways of the city.  Mom was one of the few kids to move outside of her hometown. Of the ten kids in Grandpa Mason’s motley crew, seven of them ended up either back in South St. Paul or one of the surrounding suburbs, eight of them still live in St. Paul metro area, nine of them live in a city or town.

In short, we were a bit of the odd kids out it seemed.

But it didn’t matter - Uncle Dick, Uncle Lawrence, Aunt Lois, Aunt Ruthie, Uncle Tony, Uncle Ted, Aunt Beanie, Aunt Helen and Aunt Generose would love us regardless if we were in the country or out of the country, because in the end, we are family, and more than that, we are Mason’s, and Mason’s may be late to everything and Mason’s may not talk for a year or two, but when you need them, the Mason’s are there for you.

For the last decade or so, the Mason’s have gathered at my Aunt Beanie’s cabin up in the Northwoods of Minnesota.  This was the first year in a while that I didn’t make it up there, and I missed it.

It is always a good time - seeing the aunts and uncles, hearing the latest gossip, meeting the newest cousin and second cousins.  Retelling stories of the past.

But part of it too is that sense of belonging, knowing that regardless how right or how wrong things go, regardless how far up or how far down you go in live, there are people there willing to love you simply because you are Mary’s boy, and she was their sister, and you are expected to take them for who they are for those same simple reasons.

It might be a little awkward for a backwards country boy to fit in with his big city cousins, but for that feeling, it is definitely with it.

Grandpa Mason might not have been a brick layer or a stone cutter by trade, but he sure knew how to build things to last.

 Mason Family - Its Hard to Get them All in the Picture!

Mason Family (9 of the 10 kids…sorry Uncle Ted!)