Wednesday, June 14, 2006
more on DNA.
tonight is dinner with the monkey parents.
at dinner with the monkey's cousin and uncle, nice things were said (by the out of towners) about the monkey's parents, which sort of suprised me. it shouldn't; it's not like he's the product of Pol Pot and Squeaky Fromme. almost everyone has a few nice stories about their parents, even if overall you think maybe they didn't do right by you.
except the monkey, in all these years, has told almost nothing but negative stories. he's pretty honest about how they were as parents--unconcerned and unloving, cold, narrow, generally unexcited about him. it makes it hard for me to envision meeting actual people across the table tonight and not a pair of robots or cartoon ogres.
and upon reflection, i think they're probably not as off-putting as i have imagined, at least not on a surfacey, dinner-conversation level. he's also quoted some severely intolerant and racist remarks his mother has spit out on occasion, but i think almost everybody's got some family member somewhere whose beliefs (or ignorance, or hatred) embarrass them, and i doubt the big guns are coming to the table tonight.
i remember my college roommate erin b. telling me one day--soberly but not sobbing or in a rage--about how her dad held her down once and hit her legs with the heel of his dress shoe until she had big black bruises. a few months later he stopped by for family weekend and she introduced us, and i couldn't imagine shaking his hand, but in the context of the room, he was just a dad and it seemed like i'd make everyone very uncomfortable if i refused. so i just sort of shook, mumbled and left the room. i'd forgotten about the father part; i just expected him to be some loser in an "i hit children" t-shirt.
which means: there will not be child-eating ogres at the table tonight. they will be flesh people parents. there may indeed be old funny family stories that are heartwarming and true. maybe some will get told. i hope so. i want to be able to like these people.
(i also want to be able to go through the whole meal without dumping ziti in my lap. in truth, i'm far more afraid of embarrassing myself at the table than of a racist remark, and italian food has always been my waterloo--there are so many things to spill, and so many of them are red.)
it's going to be fine, but my secret hope is that it is a little better than fine, and that we can enjoy each other.
at dinner with the monkey's cousin and uncle, nice things were said (by the out of towners) about the monkey's parents, which sort of suprised me. it shouldn't; it's not like he's the product of Pol Pot and Squeaky Fromme. almost everyone has a few nice stories about their parents, even if overall you think maybe they didn't do right by you.
except the monkey, in all these years, has told almost nothing but negative stories. he's pretty honest about how they were as parents--unconcerned and unloving, cold, narrow, generally unexcited about him. it makes it hard for me to envision meeting actual people across the table tonight and not a pair of robots or cartoon ogres.
and upon reflection, i think they're probably not as off-putting as i have imagined, at least not on a surfacey, dinner-conversation level. he's also quoted some severely intolerant and racist remarks his mother has spit out on occasion, but i think almost everybody's got some family member somewhere whose beliefs (or ignorance, or hatred) embarrass them, and i doubt the big guns are coming to the table tonight.
i remember my college roommate erin b. telling me one day--soberly but not sobbing or in a rage--about how her dad held her down once and hit her legs with the heel of his dress shoe until she had big black bruises. a few months later he stopped by for family weekend and she introduced us, and i couldn't imagine shaking his hand, but in the context of the room, he was just a dad and it seemed like i'd make everyone very uncomfortable if i refused. so i just sort of shook, mumbled and left the room. i'd forgotten about the father part; i just expected him to be some loser in an "i hit children" t-shirt.
which means: there will not be child-eating ogres at the table tonight. they will be flesh people parents. there may indeed be old funny family stories that are heartwarming and true. maybe some will get told. i hope so. i want to be able to like these people.
(i also want to be able to go through the whole meal without dumping ziti in my lap. in truth, i'm far more afraid of embarrassing myself at the table than of a racist remark, and italian food has always been my waterloo--there are so many things to spill, and so many of them are red.)
it's going to be fine, but my secret hope is that it is a little better than fine, and that we can enjoy each other.
