Most of my aunts, uncles and cousins live in the Rochester area.

Growing up, I remember crowded family reunions and picnics at Powdermill Park, Mendon Ponds Park and a few other green spaces around Monroe County. Softball games, cans of grape and orange soda, exploring the parks and hanging out with cousins we did not often see were among highlights I remember as a 12-year-old.

The summer reunions are on hiatus right now; my cousins Eileen Park, Mary Ellen Cosgriff and Karen Weaver kept the party on the tracks for a nice stretch during the 1980s, ‘90s and into the 2000s, but low turnout has forced cancellation. At least for now.

The Christmas reunion is still going strong. My extended family used to gather Christmas Night at the home of my aunt, Norrene Ellison, a penultimate entertainer. Aunt Norrene used to clean and cook Christmas Eve, throw a big Christmas Day party for Uncle Jack and their seven kids, then welcome another 20 or 30 people into the house after 7 p.m. I celebrated so much during the 1973 party — the year I discovered beer — I was sick for about a week afterward.

Once Aunt Norrene decided to forgo the tradition --- and rest --- during the mid-1970s, Uncle Tim Howland and my Aunt Barbara began a new tradition in 1978: The family rented out the St. Paul’s Exempt Fireman’s Club in the Rochester suburb of Irondequoit, asked everyone to bring a dish to pass, bought a few cold cut platters and invited everyone to celebrate the season. Uncle Art Cosgriff dressed as Santa Claus for all the little kids; we older cousins watched Art’s show, then retired to the bar for cordials and cold ones.

Members of the family used to take turns hosting the party, which now always lands on the Saturday after Thanksgiving and begins at 4 p.m. for cocktails. Committees formed, and discussions included invitations, where to buy the meats, decorations. In 1989, my sister, Joanne Fisher, and I volunteered to run the event. Things ran pretty smoothly, and we were re-elected to run the show in 1990. And 1991.

We were the family choice in 1992, 1993 and 1994, too. In 1995, Joanne and I resumed our yule duties. The family saw no reason to change the party battery in 1996, 1997 or 1998. We were on for the millennium observance in 1999. And since the 2000s began, we are 9-0 for party management.

Get the idea? My sister and I apparently have been installed as permanent caretakers of the Wilkin Family Christmas Party — kind of like Jack Torrance was appointed permanent caretaker of the Overlook Hotel in “The Shining.” Only running the party has not driven us crazy. We charge $9 for adults, and the dough covers deli platters, rolls and fire hall rent. We usually break even.

You can check out a few photos from this year’s party — and take a look at family stars — by clicking HERE.

We get a lot of help from Cousin Eileen, who sort of becomes the kitchen captain and makes sure every warm dish comes out of the oven and goes on the table. Eileen’s spunky and spirited daughters Janelle and MacKenzie also help. So does Cousin Nancy Reese. Uncle Jack Wilkin and Aunt Eileen decorated the tables this year, covering the long hunks of plastic with red-and-white candy cane wrapping paper (purchased for 37 cents per role at Price Chopper last January).

Uncle Art, who passed away on Christmas Eve of 2006, entrusted me to carry on as Santa Claus in 1991. I bought a Santy Claus suit, complete with large velvet bag for presents — parents slip Santy a few gifts for their small children before the grand entrance. A few years ago, I invested in a Mrs. Santy Claus gown; thought the kids would get a kick out of the old boy’s wife. Now a lucky female family member gets the chance to wear glitter and false white hair for 20 or 30 minutes every November. More about that in a minute.

This party is about tradition. That’s one reason I wear a dress shirt and a Christmas tie. Maybe a bit too formal for a firemen’s hall, but in many old Christmas slides from the 1940s and 1950s, my great uncles are always wearing ties and jackets at Christmas gatherings. Nothing like a nod to the past!

Every year, Marine Corps vet Uncle Tom Wilkin addresses the 40 or 50 people in the hall before the 6 p.m. dinner, asks us to remember family members who have passed away, and says a few prayers. Then we fill up paper plates with mashed potatoes, assorted salads, sandwiches, chili and other good stuff. When everyone is finished, a representative from each family stands and gives a year-end report on family activities. My brother Tim stood and delivered this year, and mentioned brother Jeff had recently entered the “blogosphere” at the old Gazette. “And he’ll probably be writing about this party next week,” Tim said, perhaps winning me a few more readers.

I wasn’t around for the speech. I was up in the attic, changing to Santa Claus. My cousin Laurie Bennett has sort of become my permanent Mrs. Claus. She really gets into the role, which has been difficult to cast in past years. In 2005, I think it was, my niece Kelly Fisher became the youngest Mrs. Claus at age 10.

I think both older and younger members of the family get a kick out of the show. For the younger kids, many of them wide-eyed, it’s a chance to really interact with Santa. Shopping mall Santas will pose for a photograph and listen to a few stammered requests for gifts, but the family party Santa lets kids pull off his boots, shake hands and sing songs. And they give Santa and Mrs. Claus a plate of cookies for the reindeer, who are patiently waiting in the sled on the roof of the fire hall.

It’s kind of a fun gig, because you can toss out a few one-liners. I talk about running into a little snow over Detroit, and maybe stopping in Southern California on the way back to the North Pole to catch a bit of the Notre Dame-USC game. And when Mrs. Santa misread “Kelly Wilkin” as “Kelly Wilson” on one of the gifts — Mrs. Santa’s glasses are not prescription strength — I corrected the mistake and mentioned to Mrs. Santa, “The Wilson family party is NEXT week.” Sort of funny, but you really had to be there.

It’s great to see my aunts and uncles chatting away. My father, Harold J. Wilkin, is the senior member of the family at 87. Aunt Barb is the baby at 68. Cousins have married; their kids have run around the fire hall and explored it much the same way us “older cousins” once explored Powdermill Park. And now, some of the cousins’ kids have had children, and they were among the 3-, 4- and 5-year-olds Santa entertained last Saturday night.

The parties do not run as late as they used to. I’m barely out of my cap and boots, and back downstairs disheveled and disoriented, and people with kids are putting on their coats and saying goodbye. Our junior family members have had candy canes, a big supper and a thrill with Santa, so it’s time to hit the sack. We used to have big slide shows, complete with an old-fashioned movie screen from the ‘50s, but dwindling attendance has canceled the shows. Maybe next year.

At 8:30 or so, I write a check for the bartender that covers the rent. We take a look at next year’s calendar, and reserve the Saturday after Thanksgiving. In 2009, that will be Nov. 28.

I talked to cousins Kenny and Mike Wilkin about their potential as party hosts. They just nodded a few smiles and went back to their Labatts. “But you’re doing such a good job,” they say. I guess they will remain on the party security detail.

And I guess the caretakers will keep the show on the air. Tradition, after all.