"If every child on every street, had clothes to wear and food to eat -- that's a miracle."

You never know where it's coming from, or what might trip it.

Bob Youngblood was my high school English teacher. He was a mentor and a friend. He died on Friday, but because it was my responsibility to host the annual family reunion weekend, I pushed it off to the side.

First you do your job, then comes the rest.

On Saturday night, 40 of us descended on Big Four Burgers + Beer (staff was awesome, by the way) for food, drink and socializing. Most of my cousins are older than me, and many have grandchildren. Some of these kids were there at Big Four, for the most part running amok.

Often I'm a Grinch at times like this, but oddly enough, on Saturday their joyful, writhing presence seemed comforting. None of it bothered me.

Closing ceremonies for the reunion came on Sunday morning, with Honey Creme doughnuts and Quills coffee, and then a bout of yard work, and finally a chance to catch up on writing.

Looking at the photograph of Bald Knob (the future Summit Sprigs off State Street), the very first words to come into my head were "Mother Nature does it all for us," a lyric from the Queen song "online.com/en/the-band/discography/miracle/">The Miracle", off the album of the same name.

The fifth and final single was the album’s title track. The Miracle, coupled with a live version of Stone Cold Crazy (recorded in London in 1974) was issued on November 27, and reached No 21 in the UK charts. The accompanying video is one of Queen’s most endearing and memorable, and features four child look-alikes (chosen after weeks of auditions) in the guise of the Queen band members. Directed by the DoRo team and filmed at Elstree studios, the real band members were only seen in the final part of the video, when they join their younger counterparts on stage. After seeing the ‘young Queen’ performing, Freddie was later to quip “Could they do a whole tour for us?”

I wrote the article, then thought it might be nice to hear the song. It had been a while since I'd listened to it. Life is strange. You push play, and before you know it, you're bawling -- because of life, death and all the stages in between.

They're tears of sadness because Bob's no longer with us, and tears of joy at his amazing, enduring legacy.

It's crying because those grandchildren are the future, and because I hope they have a damned future.

You're reaching for the tissues because music can be so deeply redemptive, often when you least expect it.

 Thanks. I really needed that. I'm going to listen to "The Miracle" again. This time, I'm ready.

With the family.

This is the year the family reunion came to town. Hosting privileges rotate between the cousins, who are the sons and daughters of my mother and her seven brothers and sisters, five of whom now have passed.

Roughly 40 people turned out for today's finale at the house. They came from as far away as Boston MA, El Paso TX and South Florida. We had pizza from NABC Grant Line, then held the annual family meeting. Because a few attendees were interested in checking out the Bank Street Brewhouse, I agreed to escort them. To my mild surprise, they wanted to walk, and so walk we did. The few grew to around 20, and presently we were examining the brewing equipment and indulging in a scientific sample or three.

Ninety minutes later, and back at the homestead, things began winding down just before the rainfall around 8:00 p.m. The missus joined me on the porch as I smoked a cigar to celebrate a successful conclusion to a familial obligation that I'll not be revisiting until some time around 2017, when I'll be ... a bit older than I am now. Who'll be there then, and who will not?

There's no way to know, and that's why we play the game.

It went very well, overall, and I have no real purpose in writing this beyond marking the event for the historical record. After all, it's my personal blog, too, even if it serves numerous other purposes. I'm exhausted at present, and there's much to put back into place on Sunday. But surprisingly, I feel invigorated by the experience, something that I've not always felt after past gatherings. The belatedness of the sensation can't be explained, although it's appreciated.