I watched a special on public Television last night by Garrison Keillor. Several of his comments "struck a cord", but one in particular seemed especially relevant. He talked of his and his wife's need to move back to Minnesota from New York City with their daughter to be close to family. He had been raised around many aunts and uncles (over twenty in total!) and felt the need to return to that comfort zone. I understood completely.
Between my mother and father, I had twenty two aunts and uncles, including spouses. Apparently, Garrison could have had as high as forty aunts and uncles! When I was young I was fortunate to have been raised by three particular sets of parents; all birth given. There was my mom and dad, my uncle Martin and aunt Julia, and my uncle Walter and aunt Tommie. Aunt Julia was my mom's older sister. Uncle Walt was my mom's older brother. I "answered" to all of them. In addition to surrogate parents I had the advantage of surrogate brothers and sisters. I had my brother Brad and Sister Candy. But I also had my brother/cousins Sonny, Johnny, Barry, Bob and Roy. And, I had my sister/cousin Jeanie. Hardly a holiday or long weekend passed when we were not all together. In addition, during the summers I lived off and on with both sets of aunts and uncles as help was needed for haying and other farm events such as grain harvest. Often my mother would be in tears because I would run and hide when she came to retrieve me to go "home". I always felt like I was at home with my family. I remember one particular night at my aunt Julia's when it came time to go home and they could not find me. After about an hour of frantic searching they found me hiding in a hay field in a dry irrigation ditch. They didn't know whether to laugh, cry or kill me. I didn't want to go home. I was about eight years old. Ironically, the same thing happened to my brother years later, only he had fallen asleep.
I fear that in today's society we are losing this extended sense of family and perhaps worse the extended sense of communication. Smaller more geographically mobile families do not lend themselves to the closeness of extended families. Oh I know, they say things such as mobile phones, email, twitter, air travel and the like are suppose to bring us closer together. But to my way of thinking these "technological advances" simply serve to isolate us even more one from the another, i.e. we can now "communicate" with others while we are alone in our rooms. There is more to communicating than the simple exchange of language symbols, i.e. such things as the smell and taste of fresh fried chicken and mashed potatoes as the elders discuss cattle prices, the taste of fresh asparagus after ditch side forays by my aunts brought about discussions relative to the city folks infringing on their irrigation ditch side asparagus patches, and the sound of crickets as the elders discuss on the porch who was to care for Grandma Kinsfather next and the tears in their eyes as they did so. We don't communicate through language alone. We have to be present in so many ways. And, obviously, it isn't always the words of the message that we remember. For me 'family" interactions presented the opportunity to learn this lesson.
Years later as I stood before my dissertation committee after I had "defended" my doctoral dissertation, it wasn't the words "congratulations, you passed" that I remember. I can't actually remember the exact words that were uttered. I assume I passed ~ I have the degree hanging on a wall some place. It was the haunting melody in my mind of Peggy Lee singing "is that all there is to that" and the utter emotion of being entirely "alone" that I remember. I remember the emotions around the message more than the message.
Gordon, et. al.
Between my mother and father, I had twenty two aunts and uncles, including spouses. Apparently, Garrison could have had as high as forty aunts and uncles! When I was young I was fortunate to have been raised by three particular sets of parents; all birth given. There was my mom and dad, my uncle Martin and aunt Julia, and my uncle Walter and aunt Tommie. Aunt Julia was my mom's older sister. Uncle Walt was my mom's older brother. I "answered" to all of them. In addition to surrogate parents I had the advantage of surrogate brothers and sisters. I had my brother Brad and Sister Candy. But I also had my brother/cousins Sonny, Johnny, Barry, Bob and Roy. And, I had my sister/cousin Jeanie. Hardly a holiday or long weekend passed when we were not all together. In addition, during the summers I lived off and on with both sets of aunts and uncles as help was needed for haying and other farm events such as grain harvest. Often my mother would be in tears because I would run and hide when she came to retrieve me to go "home". I always felt like I was at home with my family. I remember one particular night at my aunt Julia's when it came time to go home and they could not find me. After about an hour of frantic searching they found me hiding in a hay field in a dry irrigation ditch. They didn't know whether to laugh, cry or kill me. I didn't want to go home. I was about eight years old. Ironically, the same thing happened to my brother years later, only he had fallen asleep.
I fear that in today's society we are losing this extended sense of family and perhaps worse the extended sense of communication. Smaller more geographically mobile families do not lend themselves to the closeness of extended families. Oh I know, they say things such as mobile phones, email, twitter, air travel and the like are suppose to bring us closer together. But to my way of thinking these "technological advances" simply serve to isolate us even more one from the another, i.e. we can now "communicate" with others while we are alone in our rooms. There is more to communicating than the simple exchange of language symbols, i.e. such things as the smell and taste of fresh fried chicken and mashed potatoes as the elders discuss cattle prices, the taste of fresh asparagus after ditch side forays by my aunts brought about discussions relative to the city folks infringing on their irrigation ditch side asparagus patches, and the sound of crickets as the elders discuss on the porch who was to care for Grandma Kinsfather next and the tears in their eyes as they did so. We don't communicate through language alone. We have to be present in so many ways. And, obviously, it isn't always the words of the message that we remember. For me 'family" interactions presented the opportunity to learn this lesson.
Years later as I stood before my dissertation committee after I had "defended" my doctoral dissertation, it wasn't the words "congratulations, you passed" that I remember. I can't actually remember the exact words that were uttered. I assume I passed ~ I have the degree hanging on a wall some place. It was the haunting melody in my mind of Peggy Lee singing "is that all there is to that" and the utter emotion of being entirely "alone" that I remember. I remember the emotions around the message more than the message.
Gordon, et. al.
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