“So, we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Nothing catapults us back to childhood like a family gathering. Confident, competent and responsible “big people” magically fade and re-materialize as girls with pony tails and boys in grimy baseball tees. The family hierarchy, whatever it used to be, is suddenly reestablished and past anxieties ghostly emerge. The game is on.
Childhood is a time of imagination and creativity that paves the way to adulthood. It is a time to try on different identities for size, casting off those that feel awkward or too fancy or phony or pretentious. It is a shell of naiveté that anchors you to the center of a unique realm where the best moments are most often the ordinary moments. Dreams are free to soar away from the needs and limitations and float away like shiny red balloons. It is a time when you don’t know what you don’t know and growing older is far-fetched. You saturate your mind with ideas, knowledge and promises. Nothing is impossible.
The familial bond is hard to explain. It has something to do with breaking a popsicle down the middle, sitting under the oak tree on a hot, humid summer day and lapping up the syrupy frozen treat before it melted into strawberry and grape puddles in the grass. Those times when we stuck up for one another, cried together, shared, laughed and cheered each other in the face of fear, sadness, uncertainty or anger were seeds that planted roots.
There were seven children in our family, promising a ready-made team for just about any event. Sometimes sibling rivalry and our shared competitive spirit got in the way. Still we trudged through life exchanging measles and hugs, swapping desserts, hiding toothpaste, inflicting pain and healing with kisses as we tailed the common thread that made us a family.
But the tie that bound the tightest is laughter. Sooner or later when families gather, someone remembers a funny, crazy or foolish thing that happened when you were kids. Like the day your youngest brother fell through the ceiling and landed on the ironing board, squashing it to the linoleum floor. Suddenly, spontaneous, contagious outbursts explode from your belly and leave you rolling on the ground, gasping for breath. It wasn’t that funny if you weren’t there to share the memory.
Without humor, there is no connection. If you can’t make it better, you can laugh at it. Laugh now, cry later. Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know.
As we drifted away from childhood, we experienced sweet successes and stinging disappointments. The knowledge that family members were a moment’s call away helped to keep us moving steadily forward. Your family is your rock, your comfort, your inspiration and your conscience.
Like most families, guilt was the gift that kept on giving. My mother had mastered the art of a carefully place innuendo that stopped you in your tracks, brought you to knees begging forgiveness for being a selfish, thoughtless individual that would strain even God’s love for you. If you did not make the “sacrifice” asked of you, the resulting guilt would shadow you the rest of your life. It assured 100% compliance.
One thing I loved about her was that she never said “I told you so,” even though she had many opportunities. For the most part we were strong-willed, stubborn and convinced we knew best. In retrospect, she must have often known we would struggle, stumble, regret hasty words, actions and decisions. It must have been difficult for her to let us make our own choices and choose our own path on those occasions when she knew we were walking head-on into heartbreak.
Band aids on boo boos healed by mommy’s sweet kisses, hand written letters stamped for a nickel. That was Yesterday. What awaits us on the far side?
I’ll tell you more in my next post.
In the meantime, I’d like to hear about your family and memories you hold.
Pun for the day: I used to have a fear of hurdles, but I got over it.