The return of Rand, WV’s Donnie Blue Father’s Day Cookout

Long before I could understand the impact and importance of tradition, I could easily recognize Father’s Day. I remember the sounds and smells: the deep belly laughs that echoed, smoke rising from fresh barbecue on the expansive grills and kids darting between picnic tables. 

For many, Father’s Day may be just another Sunday in June. But for me, it was the day our community in Rand, West Virginia, came alive.

Back in 1991, my dad, Donnie “Blue” Jones, held a small Father’s Day cookout with a few friends at Coonskin Park. My oldest sister, Cierra Jones, was nearly two, and my dad was excited to celebrate being a father. 

“The cookout, it kind of just took on its own life,” he said. 

The small gathering made a lasting impression on his circle of friends and became an annual tradition: The Donnie Blue Father’s Day Cookout. 

By 1995,  it had expanded so quickly,  that my dad realized it was more than an intimate gathering. He went from about six people to well over 100 guests in the blink of an eye. So, he started booking a bigger shelter at Coonskin to house all the attendees, and his personal gathering became an event for our entire community.

“It was something that brought people together. Old and young, everyone just started looking forward to it. So, as it grew, year by year, the closer you got to Father’s Day, all you hear is, ‘What time is your picnic now? Where’s Donnie’s picnic?” my dad said. 

These are pictures from old cookouts. I’m wearing a pink hat in the left picture. My dad is wearing a hoodie and holding a flip phone.

Creating an annual event wasn’t the goal, but creating a space where people of all ages could come together and celebrate was. I grew up with this cookout being adored by our small community of 1,000. 

Rand is less than a 15-minute drive from West Virginia’s Capital City. Previously named Levi, this micro-town was once a swamp that was reconstructed into a salt and mining hub. But the glory days of coal there are long gone, and the town reflects that struggle. 

Today, we are a predominantly Black community where generations of families have built their lives, preserving a deep sense of resilience, pride and connection, despite the challenges that remain. 

Some towns have galas, reunions or birthday parties, but my dad’s cookout was our most anticipated event of the year.

Although she wasn’t a Rand resident, longtime attendee Leslie Gilmore made the trip each year with her mother and stepfather to celebrate Father’s Day. 

“One of my favorite memories of Father’s Day growing up wasn’t just the cookout itself — it was the sense of community that came with it. Even though I didn’t actually live in Rand, Father’s Day always felt like coming home,” she said. 

Although we’ve always called it “The Donnie Blue Father’s day Cookout,” our community made the day memorable and successful. My dad’s name was attached to it, but the people who were there to lend a helping hand were just as important. 

“When your name is attached to something, it’s overwhelming because you start to understand that people are supporting you and what it is that you’re trying to do,” he said. 

This event showed us how to show up for others and contribute to something bigger than ourselves. As the years went by and the attendance numbers rose, people began to self-delegate. Attendees would donate money, bring coolers and ice, sign up to man the grills or buy charcoal and food. 

Phone calls would flood in the morning of the event to ensure my dad had everything. Family and friends would meet him at Coonskin to set up — and stay long past the cookout’s end to clean. 

“The event itself ran like a well oiled machine. It meant the world to me, because I knew it meant the world to the community,” my dad said. 

Being able to see my dad host an event of this magnitude with his name on it always made me radiate with pride. He did something that changed our community and made people from all walks of life come together.

But after more than two decades of pulling off the biggest event in the area, attendance started to decline. For the consistent returning guests, the end was near, but nobody knew. 

After organizing the 2017 picnic, my dad looked around and could tell that he was past his peak years of hosting. He and other event organizers were burnt out. 

As Father’s Day that year came to a close, my dad revealed that he would no longer be leading the annual celebration. But he would give his blessing to whomever stepped up to lead. 

“I wouldn’t change any of it for the world. I felt like, at that time, at the end, it needed to end. At least for me, I thought it was time to pass the torch. There just wasn’t anyone at the time to take it, ” he said.

A couple years after that abrupt ending, many loyal attendees would still ask if it was happening each year, but there was nobody willing to pick up the pieces. My dad still had hope that someone would light the torch and continue his legacy. To his surprise, his successor ended up being his youngest child and daughter: me. 

The thought of restarting this tradition had always been in the back of my mind. Once I had children of my own, I started seeing the cookout’s deeper purpose. I saw my dad and his friends in a new light, growing older with their children having little ones of their own. 

I reached out to my community with a plea to find a way we could connect with one another again. The response was overwhelmingly positive, and many urged me to take the cookout into my own hands and initiate a revival. 

“I always knew you were in training. You got the personality for it and the support behind you. And you are already looking at me like, ‘Watch out, old man. I got this,’” my dad said. 

When I first started discussing the possibility of bringing the cookout back, I didn’t realize how much the original event meant to me. I got to dig up old photos, listen to others’ experiences and relive the past through my dad’s eyes. I quickly discovered that this event would always be a part of me. 

The memories that we made will last a lifetime. From my siblings never losing a pickup basketball game, to having the biggest water balloon fights and gathering around the canopies to hear our elders tell stories. 

These are pictures from this year’s cookout. Going clockwise, the first photo is a picture of me, some of my siblings, my daughter and my dad. The second photo is a picture of my dad. The third photo is a picture of everyone who attended the cookout.

These were days when families got reunited, driving hours from different states just to attend. Lifelong friendships were made. And any disagreement got put to the side, all for the sake of celebration. 

“It’s just a priceless five or six hours. You can’t duplicate it no matter what. 
And then, you get a whole year to build on that excitement of doing it all over again,” my dad said. 

This experience where I got to put myself in my dad’s shoes instead of being a child attending, created a new sense of pride in my community. The outpouring of support and encouragement was so meaningful to me. Because of this event, guests from years past began reaching out to one another, rekindling their friendships and sharing their excitement for the next generation to take over.

I was in the beginning stages of becoming the bridge between people in our community, just like my father had done for decades. 

“To Rand, West Virginia, from your baby boy Donnie Blue, I just want to say thank you. Thank you. You made me who I am, and I’ve had a beautiful time with you. And I hope y’all take this torch to Aaliyah Bleu and run it up.”