The older I get, the more of a loss it feels that I don't have a family. Families seem to be something that most people take for granted; sort of like arms or teeth. Some people like theirs, some don't. But most people seem to have some kind of "next of kin" who will step up to the plate, however begrudgingly, if something is needed. It might involve a cross-continental move (usually on the part of the needful - I am thinking of a friend dying of cancer who moved in with her sister in the MidWest) but someone is there.
Once my partner became non compos, one day it dawned on me that I am no longer anyone's responsibility or problem. I have no "in case of emergency please notify". I can't think of anyone who would consider it their obligation to cancel their plans because I was in the hospital with, say, a concussion. Yes, I have an attorney, a physician, a psychotherapist, and a pastor. I have friends but they are all busy (we squeeze each other in once a month for an outing).
All this is a prelude to my writing about my first cousin. I do have a first cousin, who lives in New York (Brooklyn?), has a wife, and has a son (who is probably at college or beyond now). But he cares less about me than a stranger on the street would, and I would trust him less than I would trust that stranger to make a life or death decision for me.
When I was growing up my family consisted of my parents, my mother's parents, my mother's sister (my aunt), her husband, and their son (the cousin). At some point my mother and her sister had a falling out. I can't be sure over what, but it had something to do that even though my aunt and uncle published a communist-leaning magazine and went to all sorts of meetings and conferences, my uncle suddenly had developed a passion for antiques and was buying and selling them, making money hand over fist, which included bilking people by telling them that what they had was worth very little when in fact this was a lie. All he suddenly wanted to talk about was money. When he wasn't bragging about his Chippendale chairs, my aunt was on a soapbox exhorting my mother not to vote (I think she was talking about the fact that my mother was going to vote for Jimmy Carter in the 1980 election, so I would have been 30.)
After that it was downhill all the way. My mother made a decision not to have anything to do with her sister. Although there was a temporary thaw when my grandparents suddenly needed care (see my opening paragraphs). My mother handled the appointments and paperwork, her sister handled the money. The last and final quarrel they had ('Tis the final conflict LOL!) was over the fact that my aunt sold a lot of my grandparents' possessions and offered to divide up the proceeds with my mother without having asked my mother first if she wanted anything as a memento.
So this brings me to the cousin (my "next of kin" whom I will do anything to avoid listing on any form which might spell the difference between life and death for me, like a health care proxy). Why he decided to continue the quarrel on to the next generation, I have no idea. I tried to make contact a few times. When he got a big promotion. When he and his wife had a baby. No reply. About a year after this my aunt had a stroke and was put in a nursing home. My mother actually went to visit her once a week. She was appalled at how little care the family (uncle, cousin, wife) were trying to obtain for her. All they talked about was how to get her on Medicaid without losing the house. I came once and took pictures of my cousin and his family (this was back in the days of old fashioned film cameras). I sent him the pictures. I got no reply. Not shortly thereafter my mother stopped visiting her sister because there had been a two week period when she had not visited because she had been ill. Uncle never called to ask how she was.
I remember having a talk with my mother about all this (more than one talk, I am sure) about why we couldn't just have a family that hated each other but kept in touch on special occasions, like other people. She said she thought things might have been different if my cousin's wife had had any social skills, but that she did not. A friend, recently, also mentioned this. She said often women will reach out to family and try to patch up quarrels (for example the loathesome LC has stopped speaking to one of her sons but she is still on good terms with his wife). The wife did once or twice reach out to my mother, always tentatively and fearfully, according to my mother, so she might have been afraid of my mother. But why ignore me? Wasn't she curious? Any one with a rudimentary knowledge of psychology should know that a 90 year old mother and her 55 year old daughter are not one flesh!
But the family quarrel is not what prompted me to write this blog post. It's an old story. What prompted me to write was that last night, just because, I googled the name of my cousin's wife. I knew she was some sort of academic who wrote about feminism, and that she had co-authored several academic-type articles (I never read any of them). Well! It turns out that she has written four or five books (one coming out next year) on fascinating subjects ranging from criminology to the rise and fall of feminism. My cousin is a criminologist who has bounced back and forth between academia, government, and the world of foundations. He even got a George Soros grant once.
So this just again emphasizes how tiny a fish I am in a world that seems to be overwhelmingly populated by those who are much larger.
I'm good at this and I'm good at that and I sing and I write and I know about all sorts of things but I am still in the 10% of my social acquaintance, family, and childhood friends and schoolmates who has no flashy academic credentials, bylines, or serious theater or music work in my past.
I was just starting to make some headway learning how to be grateful for my little life, and now this.
What am I lacking? I have brains and various talents.
As I said not long ago, if I can't do well, I guess I have to settle for doing good.
No comments:
Post a Comment