“For thirty years, Mom told everyone I was ‘studying abroad in Arizona,’” Robert said, strumming a minor chord. “I was in a juvenile detention center for stealing a tractor.”

“I just wanted to see everyone in one place before I went blind,” Karla joked on Saturday morning, squinting through thick bifocals as she directed the placement of folding chairs. “Turns out, I can still see a messy campsite just fine.” Make no mistake: the Karla Nelson Family Reunion is a production. Planning begins nearly a year in advance. A dedicated Facebook group (ironically managed by her great-grandson, Liam, a 19-year-old coding major) handles the potluck assignments, T-shirt orders, and the ever-contentious “Cabin vs. Tent” debate.

“Families break because people hold onto the small stuff,” Karla said, sipping her coffee. “Someone didn’t send a birthday card. Someone got too drunk at the wedding. Someone stole a tractor.” She laughed, a sound that echoed across the empty field.

This year’s theme was The official T-shirt, a bright kelly green, featured a massive family tree printed on the back. Below Karla’s name, the branches sprawled into five thick limbs for her children, then splintered into dozens of twigs for her 27 grandchildren, 52 great-grandchildren, and—as of last Tuesday—her first great-great-grandchild, Emma.

The centerpiece, however, is the . As dusk falls, a bonfire is lit. The alcohol flows freely (a strict “No Hard Liquor, Only Karla’s Famous Spiked Lemonade” rule). This is where the family’s oral history lives and breathes.

When asked the secret to keeping a family of nearly 200 people functional and loving for four decades, she didn’t talk about discipline or rules. She pointed to the banner hanging over the fire pit, a needlepoint she made herself in 1985.