But, hey, it’s my family.
My great aunts, three of them, were running the show. Various cousins were chatting away, each of them working on one dish or another. And children of all ages were darting about the kitchen.
I saw one have a look to see if any of the mums were watching. Seeing that the coast was clear, he grabbed a slice of bread off one of the dishes and darted out the door to the back.
“Jackson!” I heard someone shout.
Everyone shuffled a bit to allow one of my grandmother’s sisters, Aunty Kaye, to pass through.
“Hello, darling!” she said as she reached us.
“Hello, Aunty Kaye!” I said as I bent down and wrapped my arms around her.
“Give me a kiss!” And there it was. Aunty Kaye pursing her lips together for a full kiss. Some things never change.
“And this must be your friend, Joe,” she said, turning to Sterba. “Well if he isn’t a handsome bloke!”
She spread her arms wide, pursed her lips, and went in for the kill.
To Joe’s credit, he gave her big smile and rolled with it.
I made the rounds , introducing Joe to the aunties and cousins before we found our way to the back. Papa John was at the barbecue, which was packed with lamb and sausages crackling away.
“Ah, there he is!” he said, and gave me the bear hug I’d loved since childhood.
I introduced Joe, and they shook hands.
“First time in New Zealand?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Joe said.
Papa John set his barbecue tongs down and said, “Well, best teach you how to do this properly.”
“When you greet Maori like us,” he continued, “you touch noses together. Like this.” And I watched as Papa John grabbed Joe’s shoulders and gently touched his wide nose to Joe’s.
“Kia ora,” John said.
“Qui-ara,” Sterba replied.
Everyone laughed.
“Close enough, mate!”
He then turned to me. “Best let him have the second part of a good Kiwi greeting, then.”
I looked around, and found the cooler next to the barbecue. I pulled out a Lion Red and twisted off the top.
Handing him the beer, I said, “Cheers, mate!”
“That’s the one!” said Papa John as he tilted his head back and laughed.
A t dinner , I watched Sterba, seated in the middle of one of the four picnic tables packed onto Kaye and John’s patio, get peppered with questions.
The uncles asked about the economy. The boys from Papakura asked about SEAL training. And the little ones, who could barely stand still, asked if he knew Justin Bieber.
The aunties made sure he tried everything. There were lamb steaks, sausages, kumara, and more. And oh, did you try the mussels? Or the kina—sea urchin—that Paula grabbed ‘round the rocks this morning? How about some pavlova for dessert?
I’ve been to enough of the extended family dinners to know when to say when.
But big Joe Sterba, a smile on his face, kept on going. I really don’t know where he put it all.
After a cup of tea, some of the cousins moved into the kitchen to make some headway in the massive pile of dishes. Knowing what was next, I joined them.
“How about some songs, Joe?” I heard Papa John bellow.
Not waiting for an answer, John grabbed his old ukulele and began strumming away. The family joined in, everyone knowing their part.
In the kitchen, we laughed, and then began to sing along. Undoubtedly, the whole neighborhood heard the racket. But you can never be upset with the sounds of a happy family.
T he dishes stowed , and goodbye hugs given all around, Kaye walked us to the door.
Under the front porch, beneath the tangle of passionfruit vines, she took both of Joe’s hands in her own.
She spoke in a quiet voice, “John and I know enough not to ask where you two are off to. But please, take care of our boy.”
Sterba equaled her sincerity. “I will, ma’am.”
She wrapped her arms around him and went in for the kiss. And perfect guest to the end, he rolled with it.
He wrapped his arms around her, and said quietly, “You have a beautiful family,
My great aunts, three of them, were running the show. Various cousins were chatting away, each of them working on one dish or another. And children of all ages were darting about the kitchen.
I saw one have a look to see if any of the mums were watching. Seeing that the coast was clear, he grabbed a slice of bread off one of the dishes and darted out the door to the back.
“Jackson!” I heard someone shout.
Everyone shuffled a bit to allow one of my grandmother’s sisters, Aunty Kaye, to pass through.
“Hello, darling!” she said as she reached us.
“Hello, Aunty Kaye!” I said as I bent down and wrapped my arms around her.
“Give me a kiss!” And there it was. Aunty Kaye pursing her lips together for a full kiss. Some things never change.
“And this must be your friend, Joe,” she said, turning to Sterba. “Well if he isn’t a handsome bloke!”
She spread her arms wide, pursed her lips, and went in for the kill.
To Joe’s credit, he gave her big smile and rolled with it.
I made the rounds , introducing Joe to the aunties and cousins before we found our way to the back. Papa John was at the barbecue, which was packed with lamb and sausages crackling away.
“Ah, there he is!” he said, and gave me the bear hug I’d loved since childhood.
I introduced Joe, and they shook hands.
“First time in New Zealand?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Joe said.
Papa John set his barbecue tongs down and said, “Well, best teach you how to do this properly.”
“When you greet Maori like us,” he continued, “you touch noses together. Like this.” And I watched as Papa John grabbed Joe’s shoulders and gently touched his wide nose to Joe’s.
“Kia ora,” John said.
“Qui-ara,” Sterba replied.
Everyone laughed.
“Close enough, mate!”
He then turned to me. “Best let him have the second part of a good Kiwi greeting, then.”
I looked around, and found the cooler next to the barbecue. I pulled out a Lion Red and twisted off the top.
Handing him the beer, I said, “Cheers, mate!”
“That’s the one!” said Papa John as he tilted his head back and laughed.
A t dinner , I watched Sterba, seated in the middle of one of the four picnic tables packed onto Kaye and John’s patio, get peppered with questions.
The uncles asked about the economy. The boys from Papakura asked about SEAL training. And the little ones, who could barely stand still, asked if he knew Justin Bieber.
The aunties made sure he tried everything. There were lamb steaks, sausages, kumara, and more. And oh, did you try the mussels? Or the kina—sea urchin—that Paula grabbed ‘round the rocks this morning? How about some pavlova for dessert?
I’ve been to enough of the extended family dinners to know when to say when.
But big Joe Sterba, a smile on his face, kept on going. I really don’t know where he put it all.
After a cup of tea, some of the cousins moved into the kitchen to make some headway in the massive pile of dishes. Knowing what was next, I joined them.
“How about some songs, Joe?” I heard Papa John bellow.
Not waiting for an answer, John grabbed his old ukulele and began strumming away. The family joined in, everyone knowing their part.
In the kitchen, we laughed, and then began to sing along. Undoubtedly, the whole neighborhood heard the racket. But you can never be upset with the sounds of a happy family.
T he dishes stowed , and goodbye hugs given all around, Kaye walked us to the door.
Under the front porch, beneath the tangle of passionfruit vines, she took both of Joe’s hands in her own.
She spoke in a quiet voice, “John and I know enough not to ask where you two are off to. But please, take care of our boy.”
Sterba equaled her sincerity. “I will, ma’am.”
She wrapped her arms around him and went in for the kiss. And perfect guest to the end, he rolled with it.
He wrapped his arms around her, and said quietly, “You have a beautiful family,
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