African Americans heeding the call of family

Regina Belle raised her velvety voice and belted out a gospel tune that left the Atlanta Hilton ballroom in awed silence. For the Grammy-winning recording artist, the song may not have been as snazzy as "Baby Come to Me," "A Whole New World" or her other smash hits. But the audience — a biennial gathering of 165 cousins, uncles, aunts and other relatives — made the performance unforgettably poignant.

"In here, I am not a star. I am one member of an extraordinary family," she said. "And this is no regular meeting. It's an extraordinary reunion."

Was it ever. The three-day Fisher Family Reunion 2005, held Labor Day weekend in Atlanta, included three gospel performances, two moving speeches (including a resounding tribute to the institution of family), a sightseeing excursion, a gourmet candlelight dinner and a Saturday night R&B dance that jammed into Sunday morning.

Spectacular? For sure. Unique? Not really. During the same weekend, 21 other major African-American family shindigs were taking place around Peachtree City, according to the Atlanta Convention & Visitors Bureau.

For African Americans, reunions are the next big thing. The general population may be drawn to increasingly popular couples-only resorts and other venues designed to escape the din of relatives, but African Americans' travel tastes are shifting in the opposite direction. Destination reunions are in. Solo getaways are out.

"The tide of mega-gatherings among African-American families is high and rising," said Stephen Criswell, a University of South Carolina professor who has researched the sociology of African-American get-togethers. "The more threats that are posed to families by dislocation and other social issues, the stronger the effort to preserve certain rituals like reunions." The gatherings have also evolved from small folksy get-togethers to full scale, carefully orchestrated celebrations.

And the pageantry of African-American reunions is flourishing, too, according to Edith Wagner, editor of Reunions Magazine. "The men often sport tuxedos. The women get dolled up in sorority dresses. And everybody is decked out in fabulous hats. Now I call that an event."

Following the Fishers

Atlanta or bust

As part of an Oklahoma-based mini-African-American dynasty that includes five brothers, four sisters and dozens of uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews, I am more than familiar with the reunions ritual. Still, I wondered why African Americans will drive halfway across the country to commune with second and third cousins once removed when folks from other cultures want to bolt out the back door when their relatives pull up in the driveway.

What makes African Americans place reunions at the exalted level of weddings and funerals? And how does someone with little experience successfully execute a multigenerational gathering of a clan with all of the branches, factions and issues that most families have?

For answers, I took a close-up look at one family's gathering: the Fishers, a clan with a strong Georgia contingent whose history closely tracks that of many African-American families. They are the descendants, by blood or marriage, of Orange and Berry Fisher, two brothers born in the late 1800s in Lancaster County, S.C. Both took up cotton and potato farming and, between them, fathered 16 children. In the late 1940s and '50s, the grandchildren began to migrate to New Jersey and other parts north in search of better jobs. The two brothers died in the 1950s. Their descendants have been meeting every two years since the late 1990s.

Now the Fishers were rolling in, steering everything from Chevys to Land Rovers into the driveway of the Atlanta Hilton. The organizing committee expected between 150 and 200 family members to attend, including several dozen from around Atlanta. The 40-person-strong South Carolina contingent had chartered a bus for the trip. Others had flown in from Washington, Denver and other parts. At the registration desk, they traded hugs and picked up their green-and-gold reunion T-shirts (blue for organizers) and the program for the three-day event.

Day 1 dawns

Catching up

The kickoff was low-key — a reception in the Hilton ballroom, then a buffet supper of fried chicken, potato salad and baked beans served on paper plates — but emotions rolled through the room like a strong breeze on a summer morning. Sammy Fisher, 68, and his cousin Frank Cauthen, also in his sixties, embraced until their eyes welled up. Ellen Fisher and Sue Hopkins, cousins with the same infectious guffaw, fell into each other's arms and did a jig. And no wonder: Many attendees hadn't seen one another since the 2003 reunion in Charlotte, N.C. "It's like two years of feelings just come tumbling out," Etta explained.

Many had married and taken new surnames: Belle, Cauthen and Crockett, among others. But most still had the broad noses, dark caramel-colored skin and spiritual bearings of Orange and Berry.

"We're just 'come as you are' kind of folks," said Lisa Crockett, 42, the reedy, affable Atlanta computer-systems specialist who chaired this year's reunion committee. "We tried to make the tent here big enough that everybody could feel comfortable in it."

When just about any family member spoke, it was clear that the strongest thread that bound them was a respect for family ties. "My granddaddy always talked about how we should all find our way back to be in one place together," said Sammy Fisher, referring to Orange. "In some ways, this is the fulfillment of his dream."

The dinner was followed by an evening of dominoes, blackjack, poker and other games. Saturday would start with the official family meeting, then a sightseeing excursion and, in the evening, a formal dinner and dance. Sunday's centerpiece: a family-led worship service.

Bringing it together

The nuts and bolts

Just past daybreak on Saturday morning, Lisa Crockett stood in the Hilton lobby chatting with early risers. Two years earlier, after the family had agreed on Atlanta as the reunion venue, she and others had organized a committee — a dozen cousins, brothers, sisters and other relatives. They met twice a month or so, hashing out every detail, down to whether the deejay should play hip-hop or classical soul at the Saturday dance, and whether the T-shirts should be emerald green or regal blue.

The committee also worked closely with the Atlanta Convention and Visitors Bureau, attending its free workshop on reunion planning. Lydia Davis, the bureau's reunion rep, offered advice on where to host the event, and the visitors bureau contributed free tote bags and other giveaways.

Now the first full day of the gathering had begun. Around breakfast time, the official family meeting started in the hotel ballroom. This session, a standard feature of reunions, is where family business is discussed, including genealogy research, legal matters and fund-

raising concerns. The biggest issue was where to hold the 2007 reunion. The older generation wanted Lancaster, S.C.; the younger set favored an urban setting. After much discussion, the reunion torch was passed to Washington, D.C.

Then, just as one aunt nodded off and others began to chatter, 7-year-old Tiara Crockett pushed her way to the front of the ballroom, flashed an infectious smile and launched into a rendition of the gospel classic "Amazing Grace." Before she started the second verse, the girl paused to look out at the faces of the relatives clustered before her. "Sing it, sister!" a voice called out.

Tiara's performance, punctuated by thunderous applause, set the tone for the rest of the event. One after another, over the course of the day and into the evening, various family members came forward to entertain the family in song or speech or lead them in prayer.

The reunion organizers had deliberately crafted a program that featured a variety of voices.

"We wanted everybody to see how fantastically their cousins sing or how well they make speeches," said Doug Crockett, Tiara's father and a reunion committee member. "What better way to generate family pride and inspire the younger generation?"

Prayers, farewells

At the heart: God

No African-American reunion is complete without a worship service. For the Fishers, the kind of loyal Baptists who open the church on Sunday mornings, it would be a centerpiece event. And so, early Sunday morning, decked out in stylish dresses, suits and hats, the extended family filed into the ballroom for the last time. As they finished platters of eggs, bacon and biscuits, Regina Belle stood.

As she sang a soulful rendition of "Just a Closer Walk With Thee," a gospel favorite, the room fell silent. Then her husband, John Battle, a former Atlanta Hawks basketball star and now an ordained minister, took the microphone and, in a commanding voice, read from the Scriptures.

In the rich tradition of Atlanta ministers, he exhorted the family to never forget how the power of connecting with the higher being can help them through hardships. "Always keep a prayer on file" was his refrain.

After Battle's sermon, many faces in the crowd were covered with tears. Eventually, though, they began to chat with one another. Three days of reconnecting had bonded them, and it was hard for them to get up and leave.