Brothers and Sisters

I have three sisters and no brothers. My youngest sister lives in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, a town not far from Biloxi and New Orleans. About ten years ago or so, when we were living in Florida, my youngest sister, of whom I was really fond, came to stay at our house in Jacksonville. After she left, she told one of my other sisters about how awful her stay was, especially focused on how badly we were raising our children.

I was very hurt by this, but decided not to confront her about it. From that point on, our relations were strained and difficult from my end.

My dad died in 1995 and my mom died in 1998. In the days immediately following my mom's death, there was a huge argument among the four of us about an aspect of her funeral arrangements. It was resolved, but left some bad feelings.

Here's what happened. My youngest sister and I were "processing" the resolution of this issue and decided to walk around the block, hand in hand. She shared with me how bad I made her feel. She said that she perceived that I always judged her, and that my judgment of how she lived her life was harsh and unforgiving. This was, to my perception, the core issue between us, but it created symptoms: third-party communication and criticism going both ways. I loved my sister, and I still do. But next thing you know...

I said to her, "Is it true that in Mississippi if you get a divorce you're still brother and sister?" An old, crummy joke, but it fit. I proposed that my sister and I get a divorce. That if either one of us was ever in trouble, or ever needed anything, we'd be there for one another, but that we'd cease all contact.

This arrangement, started in 1998, persists to the present day. I have not seen my sister since then, and only talked to her once on the phone, about four years ago or so. Honestly, I miss her terribly and wish we could have some kind of relationship. But the reality was that, for a variety of reasons, we grated on one another. I resented her life choices and her outrageous, presumptuous criticism of me; she resented my judging her. Our values were very different. Our styles of not only parenting but of many other things were also quite divergent.

There are days that I regret this "deal," but mostly it's worked out for us both - even if it could be said that it was making the best of a bad situation. I always ask about her through my other sisters, am concerned about her, and acknowledge a bond which will last our whole lifetimes.

That's the nature of blood, I think. I'd lke to say I'm proud of what we did, but pride is not exactly the right label.

In the best of circumstances, I'd like siblings in toxic relationships everywhere to consider something like this: a "divorce" where there is an agreement not to communicate with each other, due to the toxicity of that communication, but where there is some exchange of mutual respect and a "safety net" of family ties.

Life is short, and somehow bringing closure to all this hurt might benefit everyone concerned. You can control the terms of your sibling relationships, believe it or not, despite all this pain.

I Betray My Ancestry

Yes, it's 100% Polish. Not much German influence; plenty of Slavic.

And when you talk about ancestry, you get the jokes. Here are a few favorites from The Canonical Listing of Polish Jokes:

A Polish guy wins a brand new sports car in a contest. He drives around all the time waving at the rednecks. One day the rednecks stop him, pull him out of the car and draw a circle in the dirt, saying "If you step out of that circle, we will kick your ass."
They pick up hammers and start busting up his new car. They look back and the is smiling.
They hit the car some more, and he is laughing. They walk over to him and ask "Why are you laughing? We just busted up your car."
He says "I know, but I stepped out of the circle 9 times."

Did you hear about the terrible automobile accident last night? A Polish family on vacation lost all of their children. The pickup truck they were riding in ran off the road into a lake and sank to the bottom. The parents got out of the cab OK but all the kids in the back drowned...they couldn't get the tailgate open.

Q: How do you get a one-armed Pole out of a tree?
A: Wave to him.

Two Polish hunters were driving through the country to go bear hunting. They came upon a fork in the road where a sign read "BEAR LEFT" so they went home.

These two Polish guys rent a boat and go fishing in a lake. They are amazed at the number of fish that they caught that day, so one says to the other, "We'll have to come back here tomorrow!" The other asks, "But how will we remember where this spot is?" The first guy then takes a can of spray paint, paints an X on the bottom of the boat, and says, "We'll just look for this X tomorrow." The other guy says, "You idiot! How do you know we'll get the same boat?"

An English guy is driving with a Polish guy as his passenger,when he decides to pull over because he suspects that his turn signal may not be working. He asks the Polish guy if he doesn't mind stepping out of the car to check the lights while he tests them. The Polish guy steps out and stands in front of the car.
The English guy turns on the turn signal and asks, "Is it working?"
To which the Polish guy responds, "Yes, it's working....No, it's not working....Yes, it's working....No, it's not working...."

This Polish guy came home one day from work, hung up his coat, took off his hat and walked into his bedroom shouting, "Honey I am home!"
What should he see but his best friend in bed with his wife. Infuriated, he rushed to the cupboard, pulled out his gun and put it to his head.
His wife started laughing. "Don't laugh!" he screams. "You're next!"

Q: How do you stop a Polish army on horseback?
A: Turn off the carousel.

A Polish fellow went to a carpenter and said, "Can you build me a box that is two inches high, two inches wide, and fifty feet long?"
"Hmm..." mused the carpenter. "It could be done, I suppose, but what would you want a box like that for?"
"Well, you see, my neighbor moved away and forgot some things, so he asked me to send him his garden hose."

Since I got a speeding ticket driving a rented truck last Sunday, this one really hurts:
Two Polish truck drivers are barreling along when they come up to an overpass. A sign says, "Clearance: 11"2'." So they get out, measure their truck, and realize that it's 11"6'. So the first one looks at the second one and says, "I don't see any cops around....let's go for it!"

And, last but least:
A Polish guy is walking along the beach in France. There are many beautiful women lying in the sun, and he really wants to meet one. But, try as he might, the women don't seem to be at all interested. Finally, as a last resort, he walks up to a French guylying on the beach who is surrounded by adoring women.
"Excuse me," he says, taking the guy aside, "but I've been trying to meet one of those women for about an hour now, and I just can't seem to get anywhere with them. You're French. You know thesewomen. What do they want?"
"Maybe I can help a leetle beet," says the Frenchman. "What you do ees you go to zee store. You buy a leetle bikini sweeming suit. You walk up and down zee beach. You meet girl very qweekly zees way."
"Wow! Thanks!" says the Polish guy, and off he goes to thestore.
He buys a skimpy red bathing suit, puts it on, and goes back to the beach. He parades up and down the beach but still has no luck with the ladies. So he goes back to the Frenchman.
"I'm sorry to bother you again," he says, "but I went to the store, I got a swimsuit, and Istill haven't been able to meet a girl."
"Okay," says the Frenchman, "I tell you what you do. You goto zee store. You buy a potato. You put potato in sweeming suit and walk up and down zee beach. You will meet girl very, very qweekly zees way."
"Thanks!" says the guy, and runs off to the store. He buys the potato, puts it in the swimsuit, and marches up and down the beach.
Up and down, up and down he walks, but the women will hardly even look at him. After half an hour he can't take it anymore and goes back to the Frenchman.
"Look," he says, "I got the suit, I put the potato in it, and I walked up and down the beach-- and still nothing! What more can Ido?"
"Well," says the Frenchman, "maybe I can help you a leetle beet. Why don't you try moving zee potato to the front of zee sweeming suit?"

Fathers and Sons

So here's a true story. This happened to a very close friend of mine, and he does not typically exaggerate.

His father died quite a few years ago. He was young enough (I think in his 20s) to be deeply saddened by this loss. His dad left a widow, a daughter, and my friend. "The Old Gee" was "blue collar:" a very, very hard-working, meticulous man who believed in craftsmanship and doing things right. His house was neat and clean. His sanctuary was, of course, his workroom, which was also spotless. He did, though, have an amazingly impish sense of humor. My friend keeps these habits to this day.

So let's say you're at your father's wake. Many of your father's friends and coworkers are there, along with family. I cannot remember whether the man who said this was a relative or a friend; it might not matter much. I'll paraphrase:

"You know, your father talked about you. Quite a bit. College boy. From what he told me, you were not a hair on his ass, in my opinion. Your father was a great man; you'll never amount to a fraction of what he was."

I suppose this was by way of comforting you, a young man who just lost his dad. He was, of course, paying a compliment to the deceased. I suppose that he might have intended to challenge you to strive to be his best - to be inspired and driven by the memory of your father to achieve great things in work and life.

What is it about working class environment that makes people blind to basic human needs? When a man loses his father, what he wants to hear is how great his dad was, to be sure. But he also wants some assurance that his own life will be just as full, successful and rewarding as the life just lost. It's simple. We want something to help us grieve, and then to help us avoid despair.

Fathers and sons - the dynamic repeats itself over and over. Henry and Edsel Ford - a great example. Henry's ego was so vast that he berated his son almost daily, and in the presence of others in the company. This happened despite strong evidence that Edsel saved the company during the Depression by persevering in doing things Henry hated, such as hydraulic brakes, expanding model offerings and having regular styling changes.

The paradox is that we want the best for our children, so long as who they are does not eclipse how we perceive ourselves to be.

I look at my son and see a completely unique individual. While you could point to this or that trait or attribute, he is the person he is and will become. It is a mistake (but one I often commit) to assume that he will like the things I like or want to do the things I want.

Last weekend I helped him move into his apartment at college. It was tiring, hot work, moving furniture up several flights of stairs. Afterward, he wanted to buy me a frozen drink at Barnes and Noble - and he got no argument about it.

We sat there for some time without speaking. He then began describing some computer things he was interested in, then suddenly interrupted himself.

"Are you eavesdropping?"

"What? No."

"You weren't listening to me at all. I thought you were listening to the table behind us."

"Actually, that's not it. I was looking at you, a 20-year-old man who's six inches taller than I am, and thinking what fun it would be to hoist you up onto my shoulders and show you all kinds of interesting things in this store. That's the weird part about being a parent. You look at your child and cannot help seeing a three-year-old. You are wonderful now, but you were wonderful then. Full of fun and curiosity. Wanting to know everything about the world around you. No fear. No hesitancy. You could misinterpret this as my not wanting you to grow up - that's not what I mean at all. Or that I don't have confidence in your ability to stand on your own feet. Not at all. It's just - hell - my perceptions of you are always going to be - "

"Dad?"

"What?"

"You weren't listening to me."

"You're right - what were you saying?"

Well, if I die anytime soon (I don't think I will), I want it on the record that my son is the best hair on my ass that I could possibly wish for. I am not disappointed in him - far from it. I love him and want good things for him, which I'm sure will happen.

For Pete's sake, please bring a copy of this to my wake, so you can show it to any asshole that says different.

The Best Is Yet To Come

Leaders are dealers in hope.

So I could use some, myself. Where to shop? I want some optimistic stuff about the present and the future, and am willing to pay a fair price for it. Where can we find optimistic news about times yet to come??

I wanted to take an optimism test, and feel really good about all the free stuff you can get on the internet, so I googled optimism and got this:

www.queendom.com/tests/personality/optimism_pessimism_r_access.html

But you have to pay for it.

Another one:

http://www.feedyouroptimism.com/

Hey, this one had free stuff.
Better.
Here are some optimism quotes from this site:

To err is human, to forgive, divine. Alexander Pope
Those who think they have not time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness. Edward Stanley
You don't stop laughing because grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing. Michael Pritchard
Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused. Anonymous
If you can't make it better, you can laugh at it. Erma Bombeck
To make mistakes is human; to stumble is commonplace; to be able to laugh at yourself is maturity. William A. Ward

And we can get a little Emily Dickinson, too...

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops, at all.
Emily Dickison

Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through...

Let your heart guide you. It whispers, so listen carefully.