204. Family

Of course it goes without saying that most Americans love their families. That’s absolutely true for me. Obviously our whole lives revolve around our families, no matter how they function—and it’s different for every one of us. I don’t really believe the term dysfunctional should apply to a family because that would assume an ideal exists which is impossible because each of us is so incredibly different. Those unique quirks we share with our families are what make us stick together as a unit. I have family members that I hardly know and yet the few times we’ve even met it’s like we have an entire lifetime in common.

Case in point: I have lived in this part of Idaho for all of my life with a few meanderings that have introduced me to different regions of the country and world. My family has lived here for four generations before me, so I have relatives all over this part of the state. We might not immediately know we’re related but if we strike up a conversation we know we’ll have common people we know, then we’ll hear names and that’s it: we just know. Suddenly I will note resemblances in eyes, height, hair, or who knows what. I told my great aunt the other day at a family celebration of her sister’s 90^th birthday that I know I’m going blind because I have macular degeneration. She told me I got that from her side of the family and we spent ten minutes talking about her aunt that I remember was blind as a bat when I was just a little boy. We told a few jokes at that aunt’s expense and it oddly enough brought comfort to my own aging process and what I can expect and how I might handle all of that.

My dad is from Connecticut but he grew up here in Idaho. When I was going to graduate school in Vermont it only made sense that I would go visit my dad’s brother in Connecticut whom I had only met once before. Of course I wasn’t surprised that he looked exactly like my dad except for being a few inches shorter, but I was amazed that they had the same wood stove, similar recliners and napping routines yet very different accents. All I could do for the time I was there was talk about those comparisons so I could tell my dad who really didn’t know his brother much better than I did.

I know families are never perfect. Everyone has felt the intense judgement of relatives, sometimes to the point of needing to escape. Everyone has felt the familial punishment and shame. But hopefully most of us have felt the forgiveness and understanding that comes from our family, the intense familiarity. I know my family has a love hate relationship with alcohol and few of us have achieved balance with it (though I hope I have). Some family members have died quite young due to alcoholism and there have been intense family interventions that have brought deep shame and sorrow. We also seem to suffer depression and have felt a great amount of pain at the number of us who have committed suicide. I have no doubt that my family has helped that terrible statistic of gun deaths for Idaho. But while we are here, we understand each other, love each other and try to be around for each other even if it’s only holidays, family reunions, and weddings and funerals. I feel so fortunate to have the great extended family that I do.