When I migrated from Louisiana to Los Angeles 23 years ago, I fancied myself a kind of pioneer. “I have no blood relatives out here,” I would tell people over the years — not with pity, but with a tinge of pride.
That independent spirit was fine and dandy when I was childless, but after I became a mom, I longed for the proximity of family. The understanding, the support. A co-worker saw me in Trader Joe’s during my first month of motherhood. I was holding my squealing, squirming baby with one hand and attempting to push my cart with the other. My shirt was smeared with tears and goodness knows what else; the diaper bag hung half open from my shoulder. “Cassandra!” exclaimed Thad, a dad with several years of parenting under his belt. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said, laughing a little too wildly. Lying. But like an older brother or cousin, Thad jumped into action. I can’t remember if he grabbed the diaper bag or the baby, but I know he helped me wrap up that harrowing shopping experience — and I remember us laughing about it years later.
This June, a few weeks after that screaming baby turned 17, I learned that my story about not having blood family in Los Angeles was not true at all. Through Facebook, a first cousin on my father’s side reached out to me to introduce himself. Wilbert, a medical doctor, had recently moved from Northern California to L.A., and he told me that we had another first cousin, a pastor named Monty, who has lived in the area for many years. Wilbert connected us through a group text, and we ironed out a date and restaurant choice. We may have entered the restaurant as strangers, but our outstretched arms and mutual exclamations — “Cousin!” — pitched all formalities out the window.
The setting summer sun burst through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Fogo de Chão that day and this is what it witnessed: a group of middle-aged cousins cackling like old pals, trying to fill in the gaps in family stories and mysteries. This may be our first shared summer, but it’s never too late to grow up together. In fact, something Monty said stuck with me as I edited this July/August issue of L.A. Parent: “I once heard that at some point, you’ve gotta start counting your summers. How many do you have left, and how do you want to spend them?”
Let these pages of fun-filled summer ideas count the ways you’ll savor this summer with your loved ones — blood family and otherwise. We curated roundups on fairs and festivals, farms, cool escapes from the heat, nighttime events, Venice Beach staycations, studio tours, local stadiums, water play and more.
Enjoy this issue — and have a blissful summer!
