You’ve heard about my Dad’s side of
the family, but now you get to hear about my mom’s. In the former case,
distance paradoxically brings the family closer; however, in the latter case,
close proximity creates distance. Like myself, my mother is the youngest child
in her family by over 10 years, and thus her siblings are all in their late
sixties or early seventies. However, in the over 60 years all of the siblings
have lived close to each together, they have gotten farter apart. My mother and
consequently my immediate family seem to be the neutral party in the fight, yet
that doesn’t exclude us from the most eventful proceedings.
One
particular year, it was our turn to host my mother’s side of the family for
Thanksgiving. For one of the few times in history, everyone’s mutual relations
were peaceful enough that they all actually decided to attend. However, the
feelings of peace were as always short-lived. As soon as the dinner started,
the proceedings began and never stopped. Tolstoy is famous for stating that
“all happy families are alike, while all unhappy families are unhappy in their
own way,” this unhappy family is certainly not an exception to what is known as
the “Anna Karenina Principle.” My mother’s family’s unhappiness stems from a
long history of lying, stealing, cheating, and many disagreements over the one
thing that seems to separate every family: money. This Thanksgiving’s topics of
disagreement were somewhat unusual; this time one cousin had failed to invite
another group of cousins to his wedding. The rest just naturally followed. Next,
I heard the argument of my two cousins, sisters nonetheless, who were both
displaying their hatred for the other’s boyfriend. There was only a slight
break in the rancor when my two aunts finally agreed on something, that their
husbands were just waiting to die while they downed upwards of 9 “happy pills”
a day.
After
another short break for my aunts and uncles to smoke their cigarettes and
refill on alcohol, the proceedings resumed. The spirits certainly did not help
the situation as we now turned to the worst argument of them all: which cousin
had the best tattoo. All of the cousins on my mom’s side had a slightly strange
obsession with tattoos and each had a few removed by laser just to add another
few on. There were butterflies, dragons, flowers, faces decorating each one’s
arms and even my sixty-nine year old aunt expressed interest in having her back
adorned with an insect. And then my dad dropped the bomb; his ill-timed,
slightly naïve yet innocent question would end fatally. He simply rejoined the
conversation after getting a drink and asked, “why does anyone want a tattoo
anymore.” Well that was the end, the slight spark next to a tank of gasoline.
That question led to yells, screams, and even further arguments about which
cousin had the worst divorce and which cousin had the worst MATCH.com date. My
one uncle even brought up an event 30 years prior in which my aunt had “accidentally”
walked across his garden. It was at times terrifying and at times comedic until
one somewhat rational uncle, so upset by the stupidity of the arguments, simply
got up and left. It was all downhill from there, and soon enough my immediate
family was alone in the house at the dinner table enjoying dessert by
ourselves. We figured we would enjoy what was left of Thanksgiving and hope for
better results next year in the perpetual challenge to get my mom’s siblings to
like each other.
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