CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- It was reminiscent of a scene from "The Godfather." Except instead of Italian, think Polish. And our Don Corleone was female.

And if any of us had made a move to kiss her ring, she'd likely have suggested an alternative target.

When my Aunt Wilma makes a trip back East from California for a visit, the homage begins. Her nieces and nephews -- nearly all of whom have stayed with her at one time or another -- travel long distances to pay their respects.

Like so many families, ours is spread coast to coast. Aside from weddings and funerals, we seldom manage to gather. Organizing a get-together that works with our schedules and distances is an enormous logistical undertaking.

Yet several of us cousins somehow managed to gather last weekend to take advantage of Aunt Wilma being in Pittsburgh.

I think maybe it was the slapped-togetherness of the weekend that made it work so well. There were no fancy clothes to pack, no uncomfortable shoes. No need to cook something to bring that would impress.

We alternated between hanging out at my cousin Dale Ray's apartment -- Aunt Wilma's headquarters -- and my Aunt JoAnne's, where cousins Erik (from Florida) and Wendy (from Texas) and their people had crashed.

There was much eating and talking, a trip to Kennywood Park. We grazed through leftovers as we stayed up late and talked more. Far too soon, it was time to head home.

To some, it might sound uneventful or simplistic or lacking in color, but it was one of the best weekends I've had in ages.

When you live far from family, it's easy to forget the feeling of connection that comes from spending time with those who swim in your gene pool, along with the ones that they love. The ones who swim by default.

If we're lucky, being around them can take us back to times and events in our lives that abide revisiting, regardless of whether those times were as disconcerting as being stuck on a Ferris wheel together or as trivial as making potions from bathroom cabinet ingredients or as stupid as things caused by double-dog-dares.

"When I was a kid my favorite relative was Uncle Caveman," Jack Handey once wrote. "After school we'd all go play in his cave, and every once in a while he would eat one of us. It wasn't until later that I found out Uncle Caveman was a bear."

(Jack Handey isn't kin, but he'd fit in with us well.)

These relatives I hung out with last weekend -- they're my people. They belong to me in a way I'm only now starting to appreciate. In them, I not only remember the past, but get to peek into the future. We share the same people. Miss the same people.

If our Papap hadn't been able to convince the cute, yoyo-slinging redhead to go out with him all those years ago, none of us would exist.

The group of us hanging out last weekend were so diverse that, had life not forced the acquaintance, I doubt we'd ever have met. That's the cool thing about families. You don't have much say in what you get, and you have to be smart to recognize the value, especially if some have beliefs that vary from yours. Family members provide opportunities to open your eyes to things you might not otherwise get to see.

I saw much this past weekend. Learned much.

And I want even more.

There's a quote by George Bernard Shaw that nicely sums up what I'm coming to see as our theme:

"If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance."

Reach Karin Fuller at karinful...@gmail.com.