28 November 2006
♥ a family matter
There's something about my family that drives me absolutely crazy.
They're all functional people. My immediate family is relatively normal: my parents have both held steady jobs for over twenty years, we pay our bills on time, etc.
My mom's sister is a homemaker whose husband just retired from the Coast Guard, which means my aunt, uncle, and their two girls (one 16 and the other 13) have moved countless times - Connecticut to California, California to Virginia, Virginia to Washington. The girls are homeschooled, and the whole family is pretty churchy, but they all have active social lives and the like.
My uncle (my mom's brother) is in his late forties and has an attracitve twenty-something girlfriend (think what you will, but they seem happy together, and I guess that's got to count for something), some very active dogs, and a steady job. And they all run a lot.
My grandparents, religious fanatics though they may be (especially my grandmother), managed to raise three relatively sane children and remain active in the community; my grandmother has delivered books to a local nursing home every Thursday for twenty years and my grandpa was Volunteer of the Year at the Longmont Police Department for the third year running this spring.
Throw all these in the mix with my super cool (and rich) great aunt, recently widowed, and you've got the most incredibly uncomfortable family reunion since, like, Kaiser William II and Queen Victoria after the Kruger Telegram.
What is it about families that causes everyone to just fall into their stereotypical roles? My grandparents are the disapproving nags, my aunt is the stingy and overbearing mother who loaths public schools, my uncle is the thoughtless, passive-aggressive son, my mother is the peacemaker. I guess we all have those roots, those basic instincts to act like that, but I don't think that's who we really are. I don't think my grandparents are disapproving nags, I think they're genuinely caring parents who wish their children would take what they believe is the "right" path to happiness and success. I don't think my aunt is just frugal and overbearing, I think she wants her children to have a different childhood than she did. I don't think my uncle is entirely thoughtless and stubborn, I think he's just terribly, terribly angry at having had his self-confidence stepped on by parents who didn't know how to raise a boy who didn't play sports. Maybe my mother is a peacemaker.
But they nitpick, they nag, they judge. Whose business is it if my uncle's girlfriend is half his age? What does it matter if my aunt and her family have lived in Seattle for almost four years, and they have never been to the Space Needle or the Seattle Aquarium or the Experience Music Project? Who cares if I go to public school and am allowed to watch The Office and have a boyfriend and stay up past 10?
But when we're all together, it does matter, because everyone does all those things. My grandma talks about nothing but God's plan for all of us. My aunt extrapolates on how much she saved on the salmon by shopping at Costco. My uncle goes for a two-hour run, scaring the family half to death, rather than showing up for family pictures. My aunt's husband insists that we skip the Experience Music Project. My mother tries to settle my uncle down, I talk on the phone late at night, my dad eats the leftovers. Everyone does exactly what we're expected to do.
I can't stand it.
Who are these people, and how did I end up related to them?
So I've come to this conclusion: they're my family, and I love them, though not necessarily because I want to. Maybe I feel obligated to, but for whatever reason, I do. I love them for the things that are good in them. I love my grandparents because they give to their community, because I know they are better than what they've become. I love my aunt because I admire her devotion to her family, and my cousins because I grew up with them. I love my uncle because in situations like that, he is my greatest ally, and because I know that he understands what it's like to be hurt and alienated and confused. I love my parents because they love me, and because they are two of the most dynamic people I will ever know.
But family, I think, is what you make it. Family is who you choose to spend time with, who you choose to let in. Family is the people you let your guard down around without a second thought. Family is the people you can tell anything to without fear of judgement or reproach. You don't have to worry that they've forgotten you, that they never loved you, that you didn't mean anything to them, because family is the people you can trust to love you no matter what.
I think you know who you are, and you know what? I love you.
They're all functional people. My immediate family is relatively normal: my parents have both held steady jobs for over twenty years, we pay our bills on time, etc.
My mom's sister is a homemaker whose husband just retired from the Coast Guard, which means my aunt, uncle, and their two girls (one 16 and the other 13) have moved countless times - Connecticut to California, California to Virginia, Virginia to Washington. The girls are homeschooled, and the whole family is pretty churchy, but they all have active social lives and the like.
My uncle (my mom's brother) is in his late forties and has an attracitve twenty-something girlfriend (think what you will, but they seem happy together, and I guess that's got to count for something), some very active dogs, and a steady job. And they all run a lot.
My grandparents, religious fanatics though they may be (especially my grandmother), managed to raise three relatively sane children and remain active in the community; my grandmother has delivered books to a local nursing home every Thursday for twenty years and my grandpa was Volunteer of the Year at the Longmont Police Department for the third year running this spring.
Throw all these in the mix with my super cool (and rich) great aunt, recently widowed, and you've got the most incredibly uncomfortable family reunion since, like, Kaiser William II and Queen Victoria after the Kruger Telegram.
What is it about families that causes everyone to just fall into their stereotypical roles? My grandparents are the disapproving nags, my aunt is the stingy and overbearing mother who loaths public schools, my uncle is the thoughtless, passive-aggressive son, my mother is the peacemaker. I guess we all have those roots, those basic instincts to act like that, but I don't think that's who we really are. I don't think my grandparents are disapproving nags, I think they're genuinely caring parents who wish their children would take what they believe is the "right" path to happiness and success. I don't think my aunt is just frugal and overbearing, I think she wants her children to have a different childhood than she did. I don't think my uncle is entirely thoughtless and stubborn, I think he's just terribly, terribly angry at having had his self-confidence stepped on by parents who didn't know how to raise a boy who didn't play sports. Maybe my mother is a peacemaker.
But they nitpick, they nag, they judge. Whose business is it if my uncle's girlfriend is half his age? What does it matter if my aunt and her family have lived in Seattle for almost four years, and they have never been to the Space Needle or the Seattle Aquarium or the Experience Music Project? Who cares if I go to public school and am allowed to watch The Office and have a boyfriend and stay up past 10?
But when we're all together, it does matter, because everyone does all those things. My grandma talks about nothing but God's plan for all of us. My aunt extrapolates on how much she saved on the salmon by shopping at Costco. My uncle goes for a two-hour run, scaring the family half to death, rather than showing up for family pictures. My aunt's husband insists that we skip the Experience Music Project. My mother tries to settle my uncle down, I talk on the phone late at night, my dad eats the leftovers. Everyone does exactly what we're expected to do.
I can't stand it.
Who are these people, and how did I end up related to them?
So I've come to this conclusion: they're my family, and I love them, though not necessarily because I want to. Maybe I feel obligated to, but for whatever reason, I do. I love them for the things that are good in them. I love my grandparents because they give to their community, because I know they are better than what they've become. I love my aunt because I admire her devotion to her family, and my cousins because I grew up with them. I love my uncle because in situations like that, he is my greatest ally, and because I know that he understands what it's like to be hurt and alienated and confused. I love my parents because they love me, and because they are two of the most dynamic people I will ever know.
But family, I think, is what you make it. Family is who you choose to spend time with, who you choose to let in. Family is the people you let your guard down around without a second thought. Family is the people you can tell anything to without fear of judgement or reproach. You don't have to worry that they've forgotten you, that they never loved you, that you didn't mean anything to them, because family is the people you can trust to love you no matter what.
I think you know who you are, and you know what? I love you.
11/28/2006
