Kissing cousins and other people

I am the product of kissers.
The first time my husband met my family he was taken aback when, before we left the house, I went around the room and kissed my parents, my grandmother and my four sisters goodbye.
You people sure do a lot of kissing, he commented, like that’s not a good thing.
He’s often described that initial encounter, describing how, when someone left the living room to go to the bathroom, he or she kissed everyone goodbye, then did the same upon returning to the room a few minutes (or a half hour) later. People laugh at his exaggeration, but here’s the thing, he does not exaggerate.
It’s not that members of his family don’t kiss when an occasion calls for it, but in my family simply leaving the room is considered an occasion. In my family, even if you aren’t speaking to someone you still kiss. That’s one of the rules: The cold shoulder is perfectly okay, but not kissing isn’t.
My parents live in Ohio and each of my four sisters and their families lives nearby. Unfortunately, we don’t often all get together at the same time. I remember one occasion in particular when we went for a short visit. As we prepared to leave for the first leg of our trip back to Shelter Island, the entire family — about 30 of us — squeezed through the front door in a tight group hug and walked, lock step, across the lawn and to the car where final goodbye kisses were exchanged, a process that took a half hour.
We were on the road only minutes when I realized that I’d forgotten my purse so we had to turn around. A few family members were still outside when we pulled up. Please. Ask someone to bring it to you, my husband begged, Don’t get out of the car.
But I had to get out. That’s the rule. A return, no matter how soon after the departure, requires another round of kisses, as does the second departure, even if it’s immediately after the second return. My husband didn’t believe that until the whole family walked out with me again, and we repeated our goodbye kisses. My mother stuck her head through the car window and said to the man who told me he wasn’t going to get out of the car until he was back in New York, What? No kiss goodbye?
I already did, her son-in-law answered, Before.
Before was then. This is now, she said. Get out of the car.
He did. When we finally hit the road, for real, he checked his watch and said that at least the second goodbye didn’t take as long as the first. All the way across Pennsylvania I worried about who I’d missed.
A few months later we headed west again, but for a short visit. Very short. We arrived on Friday afternoon and left the next evening, just 28 hours later. But we crammed in plenty of hugs and kisses during that brief time. On Friday we gathered at a sister’s house for dinner. The meal was great but I was there for the hello kisses, the goodbye kisses and even some who-needs-a-reason kisses.
The next day we attended my nephew’s basketball game, and here’s an indication of just how seriously our family takes its kisses. My nephew, (21 in two weeks, but 13 years old at the time) was on the court when we arrived and my husband was convinced he was going to leave the game to kiss us hello. He did not. But during a timeout, when the rest of the team huddled with the coach, my nephew climbed up into the bleachers to kiss us hello. Later we went to another nephew’s hockey game. He didn’t leave the ice for kisses but 30 seconds after the game-ending buzzer that kid was right there, in our faces, puckered up.
Back in New York my husband calculated that in less than three days we’d spent 18.5 hours on the road, $130 on motels and put nearly 1,300 miles on our car. He also figured out that during our 28-hour visit we averaged 38.1 kph (kisses per hour.) You know, that’s up three whole kphs from our last visit, he said.
Like that’s not a good thing.