"It's a Davis thing."
The other night I had a conversation with my 7-year old son that went something like this:
Stevie (somewhat weepily): "I'm going to need braces."
Me: "Why?"
Stevie: "Because Grandma said I have the McClary teeth and the Davis mouth."
Me: "That's ridiculous. You know whose teeth and mouth you have? Stevie's." (Fume.)
One of the many things I was uptight about when I contemplated our inevitable move back to Missery was this obsession my mother-in-law (surprise! she's back) has with her dad. He died in 1988 but that doesn't mean that she can't worm him into every single conversation or situation. For instance, take the Fourth of July. My mom was in town (thank the lord!) and we were having what I thought was a small family dinner to mark the occasion of her visit and of Stevie's birthday. They had invited the neighbors over, a couple our age with a little girl. To get the conversation going with the interlopers, I asked them how long they had lived in their house. "Oh, about 5 years." To which Beth immediately replied, "That long? My dad's been gone since '88. It doesn't seem like it's been nearly 20 years."
Pause.
I'm not a completely insensitive ass. (I am a Jacobus, after all.) She misses her dad and 20 years obviously hasn't dulled that emotion. She takes so much pride in his--her dad's--family, her two brothers, all of their kids, etc. I try to remember that she loves her dad and misses her dad and her mom died when Beth was in her early 20s and so her reliance on her dad was probably stronger than normal and so on.
Still, this is my blog. And, in my blog, I can be as annoyed and pissy as I want to. (Just like a Walker.) And incredulous. In her hallway, she has a very large display of family photos. In the top center of these photos are large pictures of the two grandpas--the Davis and McClary men, from whose loins sprung Stevie's grossly misshapen mouth and teeth, respectively--and little tiny pictures of their wives, from whose loins sprung the whole brood. Not just teeth. Perhaps it's a result of her mom dying years ago, but Beth hardly ever talks about her. Besides the pictures, every family tree-based craft (T-shirts, aprons) she creates states the descendants of her DAD, with her mom relegated to "wife of" status. "It's a Davis thing" has been uttered so much that it has become a joke between my husband and me.
But still, I find this disturbing. I don't know what kind of insecurity-based psychosis led to our culture tracing everything back through the dad, but it did. Must we sustain it?
OK, sure, I may be part of the problem. I finally got around to changing my surname to my husband's after about 4 years of marriage. There are several reasons, all based on convenience with maybe a little bit of "Oh, what the hell--Day is a man's name, too" thrown in. And, really, where would I find the woman's name? (This pragmatism is a Day thing.) But my children have the surnames of both of us on their birth certificate. We did that to ensure that they don't forget that they have two sides of their family tree. And with a paternal grandmother who attributes 90% of their traits, looks, and personality to one great-grandparent (and herself), with 10% thrown to the McClarys (but only, I think, because Stevie's resemblance to his dad, who strongly resembles his own dad, is undeniable), I had to. I was and am not going to allow 1/2 of my childrens' family tree to be carelessly topped.
I'm telling you that it goes beyond sharing stories with the kids about their great-grandparents and beyond. I'm all about that, and I'm glad that their paternal grandfather's mother's family still gets together once a year to share their past and present (see the "Casserole" post). My paternal grandmother, Bee, wrote a book called "Day By Day" wherein she recollects her life and writes a little about her parents and grandparents and we treasure it. But when one great-grandparent is placed on a pedestal high above the other seven and, because of the proximity of the pedestal holder, one great-grandparent becomes the spring from which all mighty rivers flow, that just can't be tolerated. I'm sure the Gerhardts and Murrays, the Days and Davidsons, the Jacobuses and even the Walkers, would be gratified to know that their genes weren't being tossed aside like so much flotsam. (I get my resolve from the Davidsons.)
How to approach it? Why...through Kevin, of course! I've asked him and he readily agrees to say something when it comes up, which shouldn't take too long. No, not about this whole big thing, but definitely starting with the teeth. Which are straight and white and just the right size.
Just like his mom's.
Stevie (somewhat weepily): "I'm going to need braces."
Me: "Why?"
Stevie: "Because Grandma said I have the McClary teeth and the Davis mouth."
Me: "That's ridiculous. You know whose teeth and mouth you have? Stevie's." (Fume.)
One of the many things I was uptight about when I contemplated our inevitable move back to Missery was this obsession my mother-in-law (surprise! she's back) has with her dad. He died in 1988 but that doesn't mean that she can't worm him into every single conversation or situation. For instance, take the Fourth of July. My mom was in town (thank the lord!) and we were having what I thought was a small family dinner to mark the occasion of her visit and of Stevie's birthday. They had invited the neighbors over, a couple our age with a little girl. To get the conversation going with the interlopers, I asked them how long they had lived in their house. "Oh, about 5 years." To which Beth immediately replied, "That long? My dad's been gone since '88. It doesn't seem like it's been nearly 20 years."
Pause.
I'm not a completely insensitive ass. (I am a Jacobus, after all.) She misses her dad and 20 years obviously hasn't dulled that emotion. She takes so much pride in his--her dad's--family, her two brothers, all of their kids, etc. I try to remember that she loves her dad and misses her dad and her mom died when Beth was in her early 20s and so her reliance on her dad was probably stronger than normal and so on.
Still, this is my blog. And, in my blog, I can be as annoyed and pissy as I want to. (Just like a Walker.) And incredulous. In her hallway, she has a very large display of family photos. In the top center of these photos are large pictures of the two grandpas--the Davis and McClary men, from whose loins sprung Stevie's grossly misshapen mouth and teeth, respectively--and little tiny pictures of their wives, from whose loins sprung the whole brood. Not just teeth. Perhaps it's a result of her mom dying years ago, but Beth hardly ever talks about her. Besides the pictures, every family tree-based craft (T-shirts, aprons) she creates states the descendants of her DAD, with her mom relegated to "wife of" status. "It's a Davis thing" has been uttered so much that it has become a joke between my husband and me.
But still, I find this disturbing. I don't know what kind of insecurity-based psychosis led to our culture tracing everything back through the dad, but it did. Must we sustain it?
OK, sure, I may be part of the problem. I finally got around to changing my surname to my husband's after about 4 years of marriage. There are several reasons, all based on convenience with maybe a little bit of "Oh, what the hell--Day is a man's name, too" thrown in. And, really, where would I find the woman's name? (This pragmatism is a Day thing.) But my children have the surnames of both of us on their birth certificate. We did that to ensure that they don't forget that they have two sides of their family tree. And with a paternal grandmother who attributes 90% of their traits, looks, and personality to one great-grandparent (and herself), with 10% thrown to the McClarys (but only, I think, because Stevie's resemblance to his dad, who strongly resembles his own dad, is undeniable), I had to. I was and am not going to allow 1/2 of my childrens' family tree to be carelessly topped.
I'm telling you that it goes beyond sharing stories with the kids about their great-grandparents and beyond. I'm all about that, and I'm glad that their paternal grandfather's mother's family still gets together once a year to share their past and present (see the "Casserole" post). My paternal grandmother, Bee, wrote a book called "Day By Day" wherein she recollects her life and writes a little about her parents and grandparents and we treasure it. But when one great-grandparent is placed on a pedestal high above the other seven and, because of the proximity of the pedestal holder, one great-grandparent becomes the spring from which all mighty rivers flow, that just can't be tolerated. I'm sure the Gerhardts and Murrays, the Days and Davidsons, the Jacobuses and even the Walkers, would be gratified to know that their genes weren't being tossed aside like so much flotsam. (I get my resolve from the Davidsons.)
How to approach it? Why...through Kevin, of course! I've asked him and he readily agrees to say something when it comes up, which shouldn't take too long. No, not about this whole big thing, but definitely starting with the teeth. Which are straight and white and just the right size.
Just like his mom's.
posted by lulu | 7:20 AM
1 Comments:
Having just returned from a Carter family reunion in Owensboro, Eentucky, I feel that I am uniquely qualified to comment on this problem.
I know very little of the Carters, my mom's side of the family. In part that is because Grandpa Joe Carter died in his mid-40s before I was born. But I knew my Grandmother Hazel a bit . . . that is to say I remember a few of her visits when I was 5 or 6. I know my mom's one sister and her family fairly well, but not exceptionally so.
It was not until this weekend, when I was 35 years old, that I visited my mother's hometown or interacted with anyone ourside of her sister and that immediate family.
Growing up we only ever traveled to visit the Martin side of the family. Why? I don't know. I don't think Dad forced it to be that way and I doubt that Mom cares so little about her aunts uncles and cousins that it just was out of the question.
It can't even be a question of geography, since both families originated in Kentucky (north central for mom and western tip for dad).
I guess a strong contribution factor is that dad's Mom and Dad never moved from where dad grew up and his sister was right up the street. (There was a critical mass of relatives in one location?) In contrast, my Grandpa Joe had already died and Grandmother Hazel married, remarried, and eventually relocated to New York, weakening the familial pull towards Owensboro. Yeah, I guess that's it as much as anything.
But even in the best of situations, one side of the family usually wins out over the other, right? I love my parents, brothers and sisters completely, but my kids don't see the Martin's nearly as much as they interact with Lynda's parents. And that is because Lynda's parents take the effort and the initiative to visit us.
My parents either due to the hassle of it or because they don't want to be seen as intruding, simply don't come up--and neither do my siblings and their families. Nor do we make a specific, intentional effort to see them. We have fallen into the pattern of connecting at Christmas and maybe during the summer--as job and schedules permit.
And that is an awful shame. I see ho wmy children interact with their cousins and I dearly wish they had more of a connection with my parents. But, so far, we haven't broken free from our past choices to do something about it.
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