Jill's Journal: Pizza Ranch party room is perfect for family

On Saturday, I drove 2.5 hours to Mankato, Minn., to spend 2.5 hours with aunts, uncles and cousins on my mother’s side of the family, and then slid back into the driver’s seat for another 2.5-hour jaunt home.

Our family meeting place has become the Pizza Ranch in Mankato. As it turns out, is a central location for most of the family within a few hours’ proximity, and of course, it provides us with a “party” room and food to fill our bellies.

The reason behind the October gathering was cousin Becky’s visit to Minnesota. She lives way down south in San Antonio, Texas, to be exact, and over the past two decades, her Midwestern “accent” has transformed into a southern drawl.

I was the last to arrive on Saturday. I’ll blame my tardiness on no exact time to arrive was noted in the family text chain. The only time mentioned was 11 a.m., which is when the Pizza Ranch opens for business. I showed up about 40 minutes later, and from the empty plates stacking up on the end of the tables, I had some catching up to do in both talking and attacking the buffet.

The last time our family gathered in a “party” room at the Mankato Pizza Ranch was a couple years ago, when Uncle Dave and Aunt Sheryl and their youngest son, Ben and his wife, made the haul from Texas to Minnesota. Cousin Becky was here, too. We were at max capacity that day in the party room, but the intimate space made it feel like Christmas Eve all those years ago when we gathered every year at Grandma and Grandpa Schultz’s home atop a hill at the end of a long, long driveway.

Our family was usually the last to arrive, and it wasn’t because we were that family that’s always the last to arrive. Our late arrival was the result of the Christmas Eve program in church, followed by a quick stop at home to rip open the gifts Santa Claus had delivered while my brother and I and all of the other Sunday School kids were reciting the Christmas story and singing songs of Jesus’ birth. (As a kid, it always amazed me how Santa knew exactly when to show up and deliver the goods.)

We were a much smaller group on Saturday. There were various reasons for the absences. Cousin Diane’s son was helping her son that day. As I learned, he was in a car accident that from the looks of the picture, he should not have “walked away” from. My brother Bob sat this one out after putting in more than 70 hours behind the wheel of a semitruck that week. Aunt Darleen, my mom’s oldest sister, now lives in a nursing home, and unfortunately, was unable to make the trip. My Uncle Dave and Sheryl, as you’ll read in “The Absent Uncle,” were in California at Sheryl’s class reunion. 

Although smaller in number, I surely felt the love of family inside the “party” room of the Pizza Ranch on Saturday. We talked – a lot. We hugged – a lot. We laughed – a lot. We bonded over memories made over the years. We took photos of those who came. And we remembered family members that are no longer with us today.

As our time was winding down, we gathered in the parking lot outside the Pizza Ranch in Mankato, where Uncle Kenny doled out as many squash from his bumper crop that he could talk you into – I took three – and Aunt Betty handed out packets of old family photos that had been passed on to her from others. 

I guess there’s some charm yet to be had in gathering with family in a “party” room at the Mankato Pizza Ranch. And, if you happen to have a hunger pain, there’s always a buffet just steps away.