: lower black pain
: lower black pain.
Modern. Stone Age.
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-5:49

Modern. Stone Age.

family [2 of 4]: DYNAMICS


Deep within the science that is family dynamics, directly in between the cold wind of passive aggression and the warm sunrise of honest affection, there used to stand a casual apathy that we each carried with us to holiday functions, along with side dishes in Tupperware containers. This allowed us to observe, casually, as people we didn’t really know said things we didn’t really agree with, also casually. But it was just for the one day, and at the end we took our containers home, washed them in the sink, shrugged our shoulders and said to each other, “Well, you know, that’s family.”

Families, in general, either get along or don’t get along, and it’s not like they suddenly switch; you know what you’re getting into if you marry a Targaryen or a Lannister… there’s not gonna be a lot of relaxing dinner parties (and probably a great deal of uncomfortable furniture). The closest families I’ve ever seen all live in New Jersey. And they may not all get along, but they are undoubtedly a band, not of brothers but a rock band; when they take the stage at family gatherings there is a downbeat and a power chord and it’s just…on.  As a younger man I was lucky enough to be invited to one of these shindigs, and let me tell you, the wine got poured and the stories came out and the food was passed and it all got real. I’d been invited by one of their most storied warriors, so I was protected but not excluded, so I got to really share in the food and the love and the wine, holy mackerel, so much wine. I appreciated being part of something I wasn’t a part of; it was a multi-layered, wonderful, complicated, and dynamic definition of ‘family’.

The first family story they tell you is Cain and Abel, which, y’know, doesn’t really set too high a bar. From there it’s all Flintstones and Bradys and Simpsons and finally Pritchetts and Delgados. TV families are great for only kids, ‘cause when Something Happens, the parents have to investigate who did it; whereas at my house, any mysterious circumstance could be immediately traced to either myself or our pekingese dog, so subterfuge was a little impossible. So to me, family has always been just a few people, yet, over time, that began to expand. My social media game is not at all impressive, but I remain connected to a few folks who I’d be glad to have over to any holiday dinner. My black 501’s, my hairstyle, and about a third of my manners are due to a tiny phalanx of incredibly powerful and somewhat dangerous people I’ve shared a world with, and they continue to explore the planet, create art, dominate business, nurture children, and ignore boundaries, proving that they are, as somebody once said, exactly who they always were, only more so.

I rarely see these people in person anymore, but I carry them with me in the language, confidence, and courage they’ve inspired in me. Sometimes, if you share time and trust with people, you create bonds that become keystones and bedrock you can build yourself on, because they’re not just people you know, but people who know you. That, to me, is family. Just because you’re related doesn’t mean you have a relationship, but just because you’re not doesn’t mean you’re not related.


I have a lot of cousins that I’m related to, but I don’t know them at all. We didn’t grow up together, save those first, maybe, 12 years when we were all relatively in the same vicinity, just long enough to fill the bingo card of family memories; Fourth of July picnics, Christmas dinner, Thanksgiving dinner, Easter… dinner. But besides about a billion calories, we didn’t share any common experiences; they were athletes and cheerleaders and socio-economically rising and I was, y’know, me. I remember a drive-in movie (midwestern thing), and there was this football game in a front yard once after Christmas dinner in Houston.

My father was related to me, but I never lived with him when I was a kid, and he didn’t drop by ‘cause he was divorced and footloose and fancy free and had a leather jacket. He did give me two presents growing up; one was that football game (he played football) where you put tiny plastic figures on a metal board that was painted like a football field and then flipped this switch and it vibrated and all the pieces went haywire, like toy soldiers on a booming stereo speaker. Then, much later, on he came by randomly to give me a football and teach me how to throw a perfect spiral in like, two hours; then I didn’t see him for about ten years.

But I did use that spiral with my cousins at that football game. Oh they never saw it coming. “Put down your comic book!” they said, “C’mon and play football!” they called, “This should be hilarious!” they openly mocked. And it was. Having already paired up who was going to block whom (because let’s face it, holiday family football is legitimized roughhousing, it’s perfect for settling scores without any traditional consequence) I was given what should have been the coveted role of quarterback.

The game lasted for one play. I called out some random numbers (I would like to think that it was pi or something like that, but it was probably just the number of the garbage masher on the detention level that Luke, Leia, Han Solo and Chewbacca were stuck in on the Death Star). Anyway, the ball snapped into my hands, and boys excitedly ran headlong into one other.

I remember this moment because one of my cousins (I think it was the youngest) had made it past the melee and was way on the other side of the lawn, and without thinking I aimed the ball and threw it, not just to him, but to where I knew he would be when the ball got to him. Yes, ok, that’s the point, but it’s me; so ALL of us were very surprised when it went right in his arms, and there he was, in the neighbor’s driveway (that was the end zone).

The sound of underestimation breaking like a giant iceberg was incredible, all the adults came out to see what happened, this mass of shock mixed with somewhat palpable disappointment. Ah. That was great.

I was, then, smart enough to get out of the game. I don’t think I was dressed for it, and my Mother very astutely recognized this moment as a fluke which, if continued, would only lead to an emergency room visit, and you know how busy they are on holidays.

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: lower black pain
: lower black pain.
Life’s lemons into rich, dark chocolate.
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