Family (Dys)function

Yesterday was the infamous family summer party. It is not some odd barbecue. This is a once a year event that has been going on... I'd say for the last half century. It happens every summer, around the same time in June, and it is a BIG deal. I cannot remember missing one family summer party. I don't think it's allowed.

Before I go on, I must acknowledge the absolutely obscene amount of family members who I found out this weekend read my blog. My great aunt read my blog. My aunt's best friend reads my blog--probably more faithfully than most of my friends. It is shocking how tuned into my blog they all seem to be. And of course they all love it. And of course they all hate the name. "It's not dumbshit, sometimes it is very smart shit, so why such an awful title?" Many of my family members spent a large portion of the day brainstorming new titles for me. Some of them like the name, think it's fun how "spunky" I am, and how "spunky" my title is. But knowing they are all waiting with baited breath for my next update is intimidating especially with my desire to divulge to you, my readership, my thoughts on my family.

Do you remember the movie My Big, Fat Greek Wedding? Well replace wedding with family summer party. And delete Greek, because this side of the family originates from the Midwest. And take out, fat, and put in tall and/or gangly.

My Big, Tall and/or Gangly, Midwestern Family Summer Party.

Yes. That's it.

Somehow, over the last 50-some-odd years we have amassed this tradition of the most motley group of people. Now I say this is a family party and it is. But it is by no means exclusive. My family does not only include people I am related too. My family has adopted all these people from all sorts of backgrounds, mostly families of my grandparents' friends, and I know them as family. My aunt's best friend is as much part of my family as my aunt, or at least I consider her as such. When your a kid growing up with all these familiar faces, it's hard understanding the intricacies of everyone's relationships to each other; and when you get older you realize it doesn't matter.

The family summer party is at my grandparents' house every year. Tucked away in a remote part of the north Bay, it is the perfect atmosphere for a big gathering. The yard is big enough, with plenty of room for everyone to meander through and chat. The kitchen, as I think most are, is too small for all the commotion it must endure. My aunt is the ring master in all this, having inherited the responsibilities from her mother.

A quick, or maybe not so quick, note on my grandmother: Almost two years ago my grandmother died of skin cancer. Last summer was the first time our family summer party was not conducted by her. She was tough. She was the woman no one could beat. No one could live up too. She met my grandfather at a Sierra Club meeting, I do believe, had three kids, one being my fantastic father, and she was a teacher. My grandma, she had the life force, as Eddie Izzard would say. She biked, she hiked, she knew which way was up. She put raisins in my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and I HATED her for it. But every once in a while I do crave raisins in my pbj, just as a reminder of her and her influence on me. I don't think I ever told anyone that. She nearly poisoned my mother with her oyster stuffing on Thanksgiving one year (my mom is allergic to shellfish). She had a habit of annoying my mother when she came over to our house by pulling weeds in our front yard. She and my grandfather took me to Alaska to go explore the wilderness. She made a photo album of our travels. I have always wanted to go back. Sometimes she and my grandpa were a little stoic. Stiff huggers or quiet talkers. But I still miss her laugh, ripping through the crowd, kind of a cackle. I still miss her bickering with grandpa even if it made things tense, at least they were both there to keep each other honest. I'm so young, I know so very little, and I wish I had been old enough to ask her all the things in life she must have known. The secret to life, or happiness, or strength during hardship. How to be a strong woman, or a good wife, or an empowering mother-- empowering grandmother. Ask her what I was missing. But knowing her, I'm not sure she would answer. She might not know the answer. She might not be able to vocalize the answer. She's gone now, but sometimes I still think I see her out of the corner of my eye, pulling a weed or bossing someone around or just laughing.

My aunt has inherited a very hard job. I think she, more than anyone, realized how much my grandmother controlled this summer party. It took her and 14 of the closest family members to do what one 70-something woman did for decades (okay, well she wasn't 70 for decades, but whatever). It took all of us--and I do mean all us-- 15 minutes to find the freaking salad tongs.

The event went off well, actually. Surprisingly so. Our family can be... quarrelsome. We have very strong opinions about very trivial things. 10 of us stood in the dining room for 30 minutes "discussing" whether there should be one or two leaves in the dining room table. We settled on one leaf, but some people were still fuming about it. Sometimes, when we can't even decide on how long the table should be (much less if it's angled or straight), I worry about the important things. But they tend to work out in the end--miraculously. I actually decided on the title of this blog before the actual event. Thinking Family Dysfunction at a Family Function was bound to happen. Maybe if I didn't think of it before hand, I wouldn't have used it. But I thought it was too clever to pass up.

Plus as my aunt was quick to remind me, there was a *little bit* of dysfunction during the party, for me anyway. I had gone out the night before to a friends birthday party and hadn't gotten a huge amount of sleep the night before the summer party. I was low energy and a little groggy the next day, and my relatives were quick to comment on it. I was, truth be told, dysfunctional. But I couldn't deny my duties as a part of this family. I had some coffee, took some painkillers, put on some cute heels, ate some pasta salad out of the serving bowl, and sucked it up.

There is a lesson behind this, children. Don't party it up with your friends the night before a family function. It's less fun, and you are automatically subjected to familial ridicule. Or worse, family members recalling their own family dysfunction. Just kidding. I love hearing about my aunt who was so hungover during the Christmas party (another family tradition as old as the hills) that she store bought what was supposed to be a homemade cheese ball and slept all day in my great aunts bed. Hilarious.

Family is very important to be. More important than a lot of things actually. I have a good relationship with my family. We are all funny people. Funny as in odd-birds and funny as in just plain hilarious folks. And we get eachothers humor. When my cousin asks, "When do we get to meet your boyfriend?", I don't answer seriously, lamenting my single-hood. I say, "Which one?" and walk away. We are good conversationalists, we like talking. My grandpa has a penchant for light-hearted interogation. It's great. I love him and his awkward hugs.

So there. A few thought's on my family. I'm sure they will all have something to say about it.