I have always anticipated family gatherings with my father’s side of the family (Hughes) with more excitement than with those put on by my mother’s side of the family (Elder). I grew up under the critical eyes of my mother’s parents, her brothers and their wives. Time with my mother’s family was usually good time, but I found it to be predictable, typical, invented; a replay of a previous encounter. Time with my father’s side of the family was always vacation time; exciting, exotic, rich.
This most recent family reunion was full, full, full of time with family, and I think the proximity we shared brought to light the scuffs, dings, and dirty under carriages of our previously immaculate seeming, chrome-plated, vacation hot-rods. It could also be that as I get older I am privy to more information than before, or that I have new eyes from which to see my family. I never realized just how insatiable the American is when it comes to the critique of what he or she is consuming. The person who has everything doesn’t have it all until they’ve told you why what they do have isn’t enough.
So, why have I thought that my father’s side of the family had everything in meetings past? How many of us have been dating people at a distance, seeing each-other only on the weekends, coming to find that it isn’t so difficult to put on your best shining face for a few hours at a time? Living with family is tough, and the facsimile is far easier. My mother’s side of the family has literally been where I am at every turn, and when things were not turning. My last name is Hughes, but I am more an Elder than I knew. I owe the Elder Family a life debt.
albaniacalling 