How do seven sisters fill two hours on Zoom each week? With a lot of love, laughter

One advantage to keeping a paper calendar years old is that I can dig into a drawer and find important dates quickly. I habitually jot down appointments, meetings, vacations and my weekly seven-sister Zoom event, which debuted Sunday, March 29, 2020.

Youngest sister Aileen, our caboose, taught classes remotely at her university during the pandemic, so she’s our Zoom meeting coordinator. Essentially the family’s moral compass, she’s also a poet and a gardener who lives close to the Appalachian Trail. Her kitchen is home base.

So that Sunday, amid the lockdowns national and local, she sent invites to us, the kids and a family friend or two, and the tradition began.

We live in dots across the continent, from Washington state to Washington, D.C. We settled on meeting late Saturday afternoons because no one went out anymore. It was a date that wouldn’t stand you up.

We meet for two hours starting at 3 p.m. Pacific, 5 p.m. Central, and 6 p.m. Eastern, adjusting when someone is traveling.

At first it was semi-organized, and Aileen tried to make sure everyone got to talk — even though Katie and sometimes Clare and Kris had difficulty getting a word in on account of Mary Jo and myself, who talk a lot. By now, everyone knows how to assert themselves. (Don’t stop talking.) And Aileen does have that mute button.

All of us are what Fox News calls unhinged liberals. We’re pro-free speech, publicly funded education, climate change awareness and people’s lib. We have little time for hateful limits the GOP wants to put on libraries, teachers and our bodies, so we don’t give them this, our special time.

We have the occasional guest, maybe a cousin here or there, and one lifer, our honorary sister, Jeannie. Sometimes our kids look in, but they can’t take us for very long, so they pretend they have other stuff to do.

People may ask: what do you talk about for two whole hours? I respond that it does seem like a long time, but not when you pack it into quarters, like a pie chart, football game or a pound of butter.

First, news: Reports of household improvements, a newly framed picture, decor change. Any travel, dreamed of, planned or completed. Occasionally a husband will wander by and wave, or a kids’ mate will peek in accidentally, then retreat when the woo-wooing begins.

Second, food: Sharing recipes, gardening plans, and preparing or eating dinner on camera. A basket of Aileen’s cucumbers, Molly’s bee hive honey haul or Clare’s healthy snacks washed down with beer are popular. We sip various beverages and toast many deserving causes at random.

Third, books, movies and TV shows: This can run over its allotted time, often does. Sharing passwords is not mandatory but appreciated.

Fourth, animals: We see antics of and discuss the furry beings we all love, even though Molly and I are the only ones without pets: me permanently, and hers having passed away.

I look forward to these sessions as if I were attending any gathering of interesting, funny people. I know these women better than anyone.

We grew up in a pile, with alliances and wars, and loving parents who gave us friends for life, plus a lot to talk about after they died.

Our parents, Frank and Mary Betty, inspire the free-spirited, loving back-and-forth. Memories about them flow naturally into funny or sad stories. When one of us inevitably brings up the 1967 white-over-blue VW bus, tongues begin to wag, and infectious, raucous laughter connects us across our kitchens.

Reach Ellen (she/her/#4) at murphysister04@gmail.com.