These Are My People
The sun was sparkling across the lake, laughter drifted across the dock, and the occasional splash of someone jumping into the water echoed through the Northwoods air. It was another beautiful summer afternoon at my brother Greg and sister in law Pat's cabin in Wisconsin, one of those days where no one was looking at the clock and everyone seemed perfectly content to simply enjoy being together.
After spending most of the day swimming, floating, boating, and relaxing on the dock, someone suggested we play Tip Cup. Or as I like to call it, Tippy Cup. Apparently, I have been calling it the wrong name, but at this point, I think in my mind Tippy Cup is here to stay.
If you've never played before, it is a simple game that quickly becomes wildly competitive. While it is often played as a drinking game, ours was adapted so everyone could participate. The adults who wanted to, used beer, while the younger players had water or juice in their cups. One of the things I loved most about this game was that everyone could play. It didn't matter if you were seven or seventy. All you needed was a cup, a little determination, and a willingness to have fun.
Twelve of us lined up in the water, six players on each team. Each person had an opponent directly across from them. My direct competition happened to be my seven year old niece, Isla Belle. Let me tell you something. She was fierce. Do not let that sweet smile fool you. She came to win.
The way the game worked was simple. The first player on each team had to drink whatever was in their cup and then flip the empty red Solo cup so it landed upright. Once they succeeded, the next teammate could begin. The process continued down the line until all six team members completed the challenge. The first team to finish won the round.
Before each matchup began, the opponents got to decide how they would start. Some pairs clinked their cups together in a formal cheers. Others tapped cups. A few added their own little twists to the tradition.
Then the competition began. Our team came out of the gate strong. Very strong. In fact, after the first few rounds, I was feeling pretty confident. Maybe a little too confident. The cheering quickly intensified. Every successful flip was met with celebration. Every missed attempt brought groans, laughter, and plenty of encouragement.
"Come on!"
"You've got this!"
"Flip it!"
"One more time!"
Before long, people who weren't even playing had become completely invested in the outcome. Those family members that weren’t playing gathered on the dock watching every flip as though a championship title was actually on the line.
And perhaps in our minds, it was.
My nephew Cash, who is nine years old, was on our team and absolutely crushed it. He was focused, determined, and surprisingly good at flipping that cup. Watching him compete alongside adults was so much fun.
That was one of my favorite parts of the entire game. Where else do you see children, parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins all competing together on equal footing?
There was no age advantage. No special treatment. Just twelve people having a fantastic time together. By the time we finished six rounds, the score was tied.
Three wins each. Naturally, that meant we needed another round.
The competition continued as both teams traded victories back and forth. Every round seemed to get louder. The cheering became more dramatic. The celebrations became bigger.
Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the cups and became about the experience.
By the end of the second set of six rounds, we were tied again. Six wins to six. The dock erupted. There was only one solution. A championship round. One final showdown. Winner takes all.
Okay, maybe not all. But at least bragging rights for the day. The anticipation was high. The pressure was on. Everyone was fully invested.
And then...
We lost……DRAT.
Our opponents pulled ahead and claimed the championship. The celebration on their side was immediate and enthusiastic. Our side responded with a mixture of unbelief and laughter. Mostly laughter. Because even though we lost, it was impossible not to have fun. As everyone celebrated, I found myself looking around at the people gathered on the dock.
Children.
Grandchildren.
Siblings.
Spouses.
Partners.
Cousins.
Aunts.
Uncles.
People laughing together.
Cheering for one another.
Creating memories without even realizing it.
And in that moment, I felt something deeper than gratitude. I felt connection. The kind that comes from years of shared experiences, inside jokes, family traditions, and knowing you belong.
The older I get, the more I treasure these moments. The big events are wonderful, but it is often the simple, unexpected moments that stay with me the longest. A silly game in the water. A seven year old niece determined to beat her aunt. A nine year old nephew showing off his skills. Family members cheering as if the stakes couldn't possibly be higher.
Those are the moments that become stories. Those are the moments that get retold year after year. Those are the moments that remind us what truly matters.
As our family continues to grow, I find myself appreciating these gatherings more than ever. New generations are creating their own memories while carrying forward the traditions that have brought us together for years.
Because when you're surrounded by the people who know you best, love you anyway, and are willing to battle you in a fierce game of Tip Cup on a sunny summer afternoon, you've already won. It's one of the greatest gifts of all, knowing exactly where you belong, knowing exactly where you come from, and looking around to realize with a full heart, these are my people.
xo, Sheryl
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