Last week’s American Profile magazine, a regular feature in our Friday paper, carried a cover story about a Texas family that holds its family reunion by floating on innertubes down the Comal River. For 71 years and four generations, the Zubik clan has caught up on family news while danging their arms and legs over huge rubber tubes, splashing in the chilly river water.

Sounds like my kind of folks. Don’t know if they need any long lost cousins, but I’m available. Innertubes are my favorite variety of water craft.

As I read the story, I was reminded of a recent article in another magazine suggesting ways to “liven up” a family reunion. The author recommended serious pursuits like “instant” cookbooks, service projects and family histories to keep the gatherings entertaining.

That’s fine if it floats your boat - or your innertube - but frankly I can’t remember going to a family reunion that needed livening up.

Most reunions manage perfectly well, thank you, with just the traditional activities: eating until it hurts and gossiping about the relatives who didn’t show up.

Did I say gossiping?

Of course, I meant discussing. That’s the word my Bigmama always used when we caught her gossping, er, discussing with the other ladies under a spreading chinaberry tree in her brother Emmett’s front yard.

Summer reunions, in my experience, are places where the weather is hot and the gossip is scorching.

At my family’s sporadic reunions, we have been known to combine the gorging and the gossip. There are few things better than eating until it hurts while gossip, er, discussing your absent relatives.

“Did you hear Susie and Gerald moved into their new house?” an elderly great aunt will ask, while devouring three deviled eggs.

“Yeah, and Huey says it has five bedrooms and a Jacuzzi on the porch,” a second cousin will answer, swilling on sweet tea.

“Old Gerald must be selling a mighty lot of insurance,” the aunt says sagely, strip-mining a chicken leg.

“Either that or he’s spending some of his daddy’s money,” notes the cousin, licking pimiento cheese off his chin.

Some more reckless members of our family have been known to discuss the relatives who showed up. I used to love it when Uncle Epp eyeballed the womenfolk of the clan.

Uncle Epp was older than dirt and notoriously hard of hearing. When he talked, he talked loudly enough to be heard at reunions being held across the state line.

“Who’s that with Lester? She’s too good looking to be any kin to us.”

“Is that Martha in the yellow shorts? She’s fat as a tub of lard.”

Bigmama, my late grandmother, loved reunions. Any reunion. She went to every reunion of every branch of her family tree, plus those of folks she was “sort of” related to. In our small hometown, everybody was “sorta” kin to everybody, which explained a lot.

If Bigmama were still around, I don’t think she’d approve of much that’s going on in the world, but she’d be a sucker for the social networking media. She’d have had the fastest Twitter finger in the retirement home.

Eating was an art with Bigmama. She wasn’t much of a cook but she had few equals in the eating department. I always thought that was why she loved reunions. It took me years to realize the food was the excuse. The folks - and the “discussions” - were the reason.

When Bigmama died, nephews and cousins I’d seen only at reunions drove through the night and for hundreds of miles to attend her funeral.

“Why’d you come?” I wanted to ask, but lacked the nerve.

A West Virginia cousin I probably wouldn’t recognize if we met on the street seemed to sense my silent question.

“We wanted to be here. This is family. These are our roots,” he said.

Family reunions.

Food for thought.

Andrea Lovejoy can be reached at editor@lagrangenews.com