To be a Mackey means a lot of things; we are tinkers by nature. Our homes all filled with this or that, saving every last piece of "you might need it someday" scrap.
It means having a wild side without fear, loud parties with fire works each year. Family events that often lead out to the barn or garage. Jokes and laughs of building your own hot rods.
Pulling your kids around on an old car hood, knowing when they were too quiet they were up to know good.
Being a Mackey is so much more to explain, one thing I can tell you we are never mundane. As you grow up the final test, to be a Mackey you have to beat the best.
The game is Euchre, no spot is given free you need to earn your place "if your replacing me". The spot rarely empty with the original four, while the rest of the family play and cheer on the score.
They would talk of Grandma and the tricks she had, get up circle twice - if you had a bad hand. We would be told to be quite once someone was "in the barn", then hoop and hollar for who had finally won.
My Dad's spot became vacant in 2008, the first family function I knew I had what it takes. Grandpa *hated* when I started with my bower or said I was going alone. I had my own style, but still he would groan. Then my uncles would shake their heads in disbelief, when all the tricks had been won and won by me. Years of watching and waiting that seat was mine, my chance had just begun finally my time.
The nerve of them!! when they said my spot I had to now share, I thought the thrown was mine I won fair and square. I'm thankful for that table and all the games played there. For tonight we are holding on to all the memories, the best moments we all shared.
Deep into the end of day, with tears streaming I whisper its okay. I understand the time is soon, our family is waiting to play. The open seat is there waiting and you know my Dad can't play against Grandma & Grandpa alone.
Please give my Dad the biggest hug. 🖤