Being with family is tough for me. It's probably tough for everybody in one way or another. As time goes on I realize I have less and less in common with most of them (as most of them are devout Adventists), but I still love them. But loving your family and wanting them to be involved in your life are two different things for me. I love them, but the differentness and how they react to it puts me on edge. They don't understand who I am, or why I'm different, and the way they choose to express that often grates. And then 5 minutes later they're making sure I know I'm still part of the clan and that they love me even if they think I've "strayed." Anyway, here are a few snippets of experience that stood out at me this weekend.
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My grandfather in a wheelchair. He is still thick with the years of muscle he built up as a farmer/rancher, but it is slowly melting away the more he sits in his wheelchair (although I think his arms still get a workout). He spent his whole life working with his hands, riding horses, fixing combines, baling hay and otherwise kicking ass with as few words as possible. And now his body has completely betrayed him. Some sort of mysterious nerve disease he contracted shortly after his stroke has left him too weak in the legs to stand and he's having to live with not being the strongest one in the family anymore. I remember him always sitting quietly, watching the rest of us, joining in the conversation periodically in his classic mumble, but mostly just relaxing and listening at the end of a long day. And now he sits all the time, with more or less the same stoicism, but less animated, more often than not staring off into the distance, coming to terms with chronic pain and new circumstances that aren't likely to ever be reversed.
My grandmother takes care of him exclusively, but I can tell it wears on her too. Sunday night, just before the fireworks, she joins me as I stare out over the RV camp we're hanging out at for the day.
"How are you? Are you doing okay?" I ask, genuinely interested.
She kind of sighs, seems to consider saying something, then simply says "What can you do but keep going on?" before turning around to go back inside.
**
Hanging out with friends of my parents from the Adventist school system. It's not an environment I'm comfortable with. My blue hair and tattoos don't get a big reaction, but I catch looks from some of the men which says they WANT to say something about it. to lecture me maybe about what Ellen white might say about such a thing. But they don't, because of the look in my eye or because it's ultimately not a big deal to them I don't know.
I have a rare proud moment where my dad proudly displays the tattoos, insists I not hide them, and enthusiastically describes where they came from. Five minutes later I'm leaving the scene as nonchalantly as I can. He's talking politics and what's really wrong with poor people and I have to go. I love him for the tattoo thing, but we're still never going to be able to discuss politics in a civil manner.
Later, the patriarch of the home we're at, starts psychoanalyzing why me and my mom's friend are still single. I am apparently "too set in my ways". The subtext seems to be I have not been open enough to instruction from God or the church or the community and have not done my duty by settling down and procreating before I figured out who I was. Amusingly, the unrealized assumption there seems to be "it's a shame I didn't settle down before I realized I didn't need a woman or the church to feel like a complete person." It will not be the first time I hear this message during the weekend.
The good moments were talking about my vibram shoes, going on a walk, and looking at all the fantastic stitching on the quilts hanging from the walls of the home. The woman of the house has an amazing machine in the basement that lets her essentially draw stitch work on quilts and she's quite good at it and even generates a steady income with it. Which is all the better since the machine itself cost $20,000.
I try to ignore the poster size picture of Jesus on the basement wall.
**
My great uncles tease me relentlessly about the hair, not unkindly but not approvingly either. They clearly think it's unserious of me. But eventually they shrug and with a last, pointed joke let it be. And later, during the fireworks, hang out with me at the railing to let me know I'm still part of the family.
My mom's cousins seem a bit more put off by me than I would have expected. Their jokes have considerably more barb to them. At one point, one looks at me as I walk by, shaking his head sadly, saying "Man H, I thought for sure you would have figured it out by now." From previous conversations I know he means I should have a submissive wife and good standing in the church by now. I give him the arched eyebrow and let it pass. Later, his brother hooks me up with some vitamin D which I'm actually interested in because I really don't get sun. My family is really good with supplements as they are very interested in "Things That are Killing You" and "Things That Will Stave off the Icy Spectre of Death." But I appreciate that they have a working knowledge about how to be healthy.
**
I have forgotten how angry everyone in conservative towns in Idaho and Montana seem. Well, I'm projecting just the teensiest amount here. I saw many happy families. But I also so a fair amount of young redneck asshole. Or frustrated young father. People who like to get real mad at people that look different enough. I had someone yell "faggot" or something like that out their car window while I was putting on sunscreen. It didn't really bother me, but I don't like that energy. That frustrated, pent up aggression looking for an outlet. I was glad to leave it behind me.
**
I could go on. and on. and on. But will stop there. It was the usual visit with family. Full of disapproval and love and passive aggressive jokes. I am glad I went to see them, and I am glad to have some time and space to myself again. In short, I am happy to be away, away from conservative land and back in Portland. Viva la PDX!
And now, time to tell my good friend Kevin Philips ALL about it.
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