Last Sunday I returned from my trip to Florida where I exchanged my car for another used car. Although I was disappointed to give up my 2012 Nissan Versa with only 44,000 miles on it and unhappy about needing to spend money for another car, I was also acutely aware that I am very blessed to be able to how have a safe car to drive. I had three days back in Wheeling to see clients, visit with a couple of friends and prepare for my scheduled trip to Texas to visit with my brother Ed and his wife Flo. Two of our sisters and one brother-in-law also joined us. Not surprising there were many references to our respective shared and very distinct histories growing up in the same, but different family. Each of us share many of the same qualities and some similar experiences, but all of us had very unique relationships with our parents. Yet, for better or worse, our parents and all the ancestors which they brought with them continue to live through us. Although we have all added a unique stage and some nuanced choreography, there is a common core which we recognize as belonging to this group of humans known as the Pickett, Scott, Drake strain of humanoids.
Fortunately, the four siblings which gathered this weekend no longer feel a need to grade the positive and negative individual experiences which has shaped much of our adult life. Our strength, fierce work ethic, compassion, creativity and tenacity are reflections of the DNA which has been designed as carefully as the hooked rugs and intricately designed quilts which are part of our heritage.
Gone is the questioning existential angst which plagued us as children. Who are we? What shall become of us? Why do the adults in our lives behave as they do? How can we please or at least avoid the displeasure of our parents, our teachers and other adults? We have now for some scores of days, been those adults to which others look for guidance, approval, or as a backdrop for new/old dance that they are choreographing.
Ironically, the visit takes place within a national stage which is loud with the cries of he said, she said, and a string of accusations which are labeled as “lies, fake news, appropriate, inappropriate “and many other judgments which could easily have been lifted from a tape of the drama which often seem to dominate the childhood of my siblings and I. It is as if a master teacher has designed to, once again, remind us that “this too shall and does past” and hasten us on that spiritual path which recognizes the blink of a life journey. We are invited to join in this drama, but we decline while we smile, shake our heads, share stories, and toast to the past which is the present which shapes the future.
The prayer of our childhood, “Now I lay me down to sleep. If I should die before I wake, pray the Lord, my soul to keep.” and the prayer of Tiny Tim, “God bless us, every one.” today seems powerfully comforting.
We promise to gather again next year. God willing and the crek don’t rise.
Written October 22, 2017