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(Brace yourself; it's a long one --wait, isn't that what you extremely well-endowed guys get to say?)
Well, as is the case with most of you âyanksâ I hope, I have survived the dreaded holiday weekend family cookout. Iâm chilling here at home now, munching on blueberries, burning some resin incense, and thinking about my screwy but wonderful family.
These events are usually a coin toss: maybe fine, maybe a disaster, mostly dependent on the level of behind-the-scenes drama occurring at the time. Thereâs usually some unspoken crisis or two that ends up being expressed in some counterproductive and frustrating way. The good news is that only one of my three brothers was drunk when he arrived, and, to be honest, it almost doesnât count with Dan anymore because Iâm not sure I remember what heâs like sober. The other two were straight as far as I could tell when they got thereâBob ended up making a lot of trips out to his truck for not-so-mysterious reasons most of the afternoon (much to his wife's visible yet impotent chagrin) and was way around the bend by the time everyone else had eaten. He spent the rest of the evening trying to teach is 18 month old grandson to say âhooter.â (You think I could make this stuff up? ) I fear that this marriage (his fifth) isnât to last much longer.
My sister, bless her poor, nutty heart, was just as pitiful as ever. So desperately lonely and broken of spirit since her abusive husband died two years ago, sheâs living in her own insular world. My oldest brother was so touchy and angry that no topic of conversation was safe (but at least he was soberâmaybe thatâs why he was so pissed). But thatâs all pretty much the norm with this crowd. They are all much older than I am and way beyond my reach in most ways.
The silent drama this time centered on my niece (same age as me, more like a sister) who just discovered that sheâs pregnant, a secret to which only her 10 year old son and I are privy. Itâs a sad situation and a bomb waiting to explode. Sheâll be in for a massive load of judgment from the older, traditional-values family members when the news gets out because sheâs unmarried and struggling financially anyway. Bless her heart; she already reaps a bitter harvest because she learned the lessons of the sexual revolutionâat least some of them. Although she tells me this was an accidental conception, I think, deep down, she hopes that this will cement her current boyfriend to her (making one mistake into two?). So she arranged to be unable to stay for the cookout, bringing her son and then vanishing. Her brother, also more like a peer to me than a nephew, was a no-show as well, indulging in the solitary drinking that he blames on his soul-killing job and the fact that his wife left him and his desperate-for-attention 12 year old son (who was at the cookout).
I focused my attention on the boys and on my elderly parents. Part of the good news is that, at their age, they are mostly oblivious to the uglier details. It was also good that most of the drunken, depressed, or guilty crowd left before we started with the fireworks. Incendiary devices and this crowd shouldnât mix when things swing this far out of control.
Now donât get me wrong. I love my family and am thankful that they really are good-hearted, if troubled, people. They love their children and one another (if they can't quite manage to love themselves) and go out of their way to help others. They tolerate and even love me even though I track a different orbit for the most part. Plus, both of my parents are still alive, and thatâs a good thing.
So, anyway, you might be thinking, âPut it into a blog so I can ignore it, jerk!â (and, really, who could blame you?), but I have finally arrived at a point here. Itâs family. How involved are you with your kin? How harrowing are your holiday get-togethers? What is your role in the dynamic? Are you the calm in the midst of the storm or are you the dervish spinning out of control? And, just to make it tangentially related to the forum, are your attitudes toward sexual matters in line with the crowd?
(Congratulate yourself if you read to the end of that one! I'll share my blueberries with you. )
Well, as is the case with most of you âyanksâ I hope, I have survived the dreaded holiday weekend family cookout. Iâm chilling here at home now, munching on blueberries, burning some resin incense, and thinking about my screwy but wonderful family.
These events are usually a coin toss: maybe fine, maybe a disaster, mostly dependent on the level of behind-the-scenes drama occurring at the time. Thereâs usually some unspoken crisis or two that ends up being expressed in some counterproductive and frustrating way. The good news is that only one of my three brothers was drunk when he arrived, and, to be honest, it almost doesnât count with Dan anymore because Iâm not sure I remember what heâs like sober. The other two were straight as far as I could tell when they got thereâBob ended up making a lot of trips out to his truck for not-so-mysterious reasons most of the afternoon (much to his wife's visible yet impotent chagrin) and was way around the bend by the time everyone else had eaten. He spent the rest of the evening trying to teach is 18 month old grandson to say âhooter.â (You think I could make this stuff up? ) I fear that this marriage (his fifth) isnât to last much longer.
My sister, bless her poor, nutty heart, was just as pitiful as ever. So desperately lonely and broken of spirit since her abusive husband died two years ago, sheâs living in her own insular world. My oldest brother was so touchy and angry that no topic of conversation was safe (but at least he was soberâmaybe thatâs why he was so pissed). But thatâs all pretty much the norm with this crowd. They are all much older than I am and way beyond my reach in most ways.
The silent drama this time centered on my niece (same age as me, more like a sister) who just discovered that sheâs pregnant, a secret to which only her 10 year old son and I are privy. Itâs a sad situation and a bomb waiting to explode. Sheâll be in for a massive load of judgment from the older, traditional-values family members when the news gets out because sheâs unmarried and struggling financially anyway. Bless her heart; she already reaps a bitter harvest because she learned the lessons of the sexual revolutionâat least some of them. Although she tells me this was an accidental conception, I think, deep down, she hopes that this will cement her current boyfriend to her (making one mistake into two?). So she arranged to be unable to stay for the cookout, bringing her son and then vanishing. Her brother, also more like a peer to me than a nephew, was a no-show as well, indulging in the solitary drinking that he blames on his soul-killing job and the fact that his wife left him and his desperate-for-attention 12 year old son (who was at the cookout).
I focused my attention on the boys and on my elderly parents. Part of the good news is that, at their age, they are mostly oblivious to the uglier details. It was also good that most of the drunken, depressed, or guilty crowd left before we started with the fireworks. Incendiary devices and this crowd shouldnât mix when things swing this far out of control.
Now donât get me wrong. I love my family and am thankful that they really are good-hearted, if troubled, people. They love their children and one another (if they can't quite manage to love themselves) and go out of their way to help others. They tolerate and even love me even though I track a different orbit for the most part. Plus, both of my parents are still alive, and thatâs a good thing.
So, anyway, you might be thinking, âPut it into a blog so I can ignore it, jerk!â (and, really, who could blame you?), but I have finally arrived at a point here. Itâs family. How involved are you with your kin? How harrowing are your holiday get-togethers? What is your role in the dynamic? Are you the calm in the midst of the storm or are you the dervish spinning out of control? And, just to make it tangentially related to the forum, are your attitudes toward sexual matters in line with the crowd?
(Congratulate yourself if you read to the end of that one! I'll share my blueberries with you. )