The Family Edition

Note: This is a reprint of an e-letter I used to send out called "Insight of the Day". I had thought it lost, as is is an old one - BUT- One of my sister-friends resent it back to me because she thought it needed a re-read. So, thank you, Teen Teen for the reboot. I surely needed it! 

They range from the Sopranos to the Cosbys to the single mom down the block. They've known you all your life, and that's no small thing. They're your family. 

And yes, they may be loving, maddening, silly, critical, inspiring, horrendous or more likely a combination of the above, but they signal one very important thing: 

You are not alone.

Short of living in thatch hut in the Congo, I can't imagine a family further from the idealized 1950's family, a la "Leave it to Beaver", than mine. I'm a single mom and have been for a long time. I've also been an orphan for most of my adult life and, like many of my girlfriends, for many different reasons, an unmothered mother. So what does one do? In my case I acquired a family of friends; sisters, brothers, cousins, nieces and nephews and added it to the remnants of the one I grew up with. And it truly is a family, with all the stuff, good and bad, implied by that term. We get together, we fight, we lift each other up, we let each other down, we can see things very differently or we can be completely unified. We say awful things to each other sometimes but mess with one of us and you mess with all of us.  
That got me thinking after a particularly ugly exchange with a family member over something stupid: What is it that makes us a family? It's not blood. Most of us don't have that in common.  We are more a family of re-creation than procreation. Is it a deep abiding understanding of each other? Oh, HELL no.  I'm an artist, chock full of all the neuroses, narcissism and moments of inspiration that implies. Seventy percent of the people in my family (of origin and acquired) don't 'get' me, not even a little bit. The other 30% are artists themselves. It's ok, because I don't 'get' a lot of the people in my family either and vive la difference!
I do get that we are an unparalleled cast of characters and the play shall be forthcoming. Hey, a writer must write.

The Crazy Grandmother:
Well, that would be ME ...and my cousin. (Though we prefer the term eccentric.) We are both writers, we are both rock 'n' roll mamas, albeit in our own unique genres. She, a hippy from way back, is full of lovies and stories and can solve any problem in life via her a-MAZ-ing cooking. She will feed your tummy and feed your soul.  Me, I'm more of a hard rock chick, I'm more likely to pour the wine (or tequila) or make pot after pot of strong coffee and talk things through ad nauseam. By the end of the night we have usually solved the world's problems and are just waiting on the call from the UN.  The downside of all this is that we share some of  the same character flaws. We're both more than a little neurotic and just a tad dramatic. A tiny bit. OK, a lot. In fairness, we both feel things very deeply (artistic temperament and all), then bottle up the bad stuff, in the interest of keeping the 'peace and love' flowing. Until it doesn't. Then, whoa Nelly! Duck and cover, people. Things blow up, and in a  big way. (See: pressure cooker principle) 

 The Sisterfriends:  You all know these girls. Every woman has them and every man fears them. 
 

  Being more of a 'man's woman', I have a only a handful of sisterfriends and would cheerfully die for any one of them. They are very different from each other and each of them has something unique and wonderful to bring to the table. My sisterfriends include a white-light angel with 5 kids of her own who mothers me; the 20+ year sisterfriend who shared poverty with me when our kids were small and now rejoices in my artistic successes just as I rejoice in her financial ones; the sexy blonde who needed my help in getting ok with being the 'bad guy' in her divorce, and now reminds me that it's ok to love and let someone in, and there are several more, as vital as air and as different as snowflakes. They hold me up and keep me real. There is a particular subset of sisterfriends, however, that take it to the next level...

 The Aunties:
These are the sisterfriends who have become intimately involved with my kids. There are only two. They are the resource I go to when my spawn are driving me up a wall. They are also the resource that my kids go to when I'm driving them up a wall. It's made for some interesting conversations and some spectacular fights over the years. Every mother wants to feel her kids can talk to her about anything. Reality check: they can't, and they won't. In fact, at many points in their young lives you, Mom, are the equivalent of Satan and Sadaam Hussein all rolled in to one. I'm grateful for the fail-safe the Aunties provide for my kids, even though it is hard to realize that your kids see you vastly differently than you see yourself, and usually ascribe to you some diabolical intentions. But the Aunties provide an ear, some cookies and more importantly, advice that doesn't come from another kid. It really does take a village, people. 

 The Brotherfriends
Where, oh where, would I be with out these wonderful men... I would not be moving into a place in my life where I truly live as an artist were it not for my spectacular brotherfriends. Based purely on numbers - most of my friends are men. It's about a 50/50 gay/straight split. That said, my brotherfriends are disproportionately artists. Actors, musicians, poets, prophets and kings, all. They are my muses. They are pure support. While my relationships with my girlfriends can be fraught with passive-aggressive undertones and hidden agendas, let's face it, men are simple, straightforward. I treasure that. Every day.  They say what they mean and mean what they say. They listen when I bitch and then respond with things like -"So, what are you going to do about that?" Not "oh you poor dear",  not "let me fix it for you",  just - "How are YOU going to fix it". Think about it. It's the highest compliment. It says: "I know you're perfectly capable of fixing this. I know that all this whining is beneath you. So do you. So, ok- let's fix it. " And then they are 100% there, without judgement, for support, drinks, carrying heavy things, power tools, whatever it takes. My male friends want for me whatever I want for myself. I adore them.

 The Grown Kids
 

OK - so none of them are teenagers anymore. My kids and most of my friends' kids are grown people now. But they still feel like teenagers from this end. They still act like teenagers in some situations. They're still yelling - " GET OUT OF MY LIFE, but first can you do this or that for me?"  They're smart, funny, struggling with their own identities as adults, falling down, getting up, in short - doing all the things we were doing 20 years ago.  They're still blaming the parents for everything that's wrong with their life. That's ok -we can take it. We did it too. It will pass. They want desperately to be treated like adults...except for the bill paying, cleaning up after themselves part. Or when they're sick. Or when there's a crisis. Not that we're complaining. We're delighted they still need us, and once in awhile we're not the Source-of-All-Evil. 


These are the characters that make up my family. Again, why is this a family??
One word.
Love.
We love each other.
Unconditionally.
We screw up. We fight. We say awful things.
And then we forgive each other and move on.
Forgiveness is the very essence of love in action.
I mean real forgiveness. The 'never-bring-this-up-again' kind of letting go.
It's easily the most loving thing one can do.
Love.
It's what's for dinner.