60 Years and Counting

Living in a multigenerational family has its ups and downs. Ours has, thank God, mostly ups. We have teenagers, young adults, thirty-something couples, grandchildren, octogenarians, and even a 97-year-old in the family. But though we are on a chronic roller coaster ride, I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting away with something -- more and more I realize how lucky I am to have the opportunity to get input from so many perspectives.

Living within an extended family group is a challenge, there's no denying that. But it's also amazing to experience a broad range of emotions and viewpoints that in so many ways keep us in the present, and on our toes. Every day I'm reminded of the kismet of life; that this isn't a dress rehearsal ... that it's the real deal, so we'd better enjoy it, or at least make the best of it, because our time is limited.

My 84 year old dad and 81 year old mom live with us. They're about to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. Every evening, beginning ten years ago in their case, we have dinner together. Of course we see them at various times of the day, but dinner hour is family time, and unless there is some special circumstance, we all show up at the family table. It's part of our family culture and rituals we've devised to stay connected, so though it may be unusual for most families, I tend to take this for granted. But these dinner-time rituals are priceless. Thinking about dinnertime, and some of the shenanigans that go on around the dinner table, I always smile. My folks are thrilled when my teenaged daughter tells them about her school work -- and shares her amazing wealth of knowledge (already) of art history - which is her passion. They get a huge bang out of hearing my son tell them about his first year of college. And of course, when the entire extended family shows up for these meals, it's a wild, cacophonous free-for-all of show and tell, with grandchildren, and great-grandchildren scrambling around at knee-height, and everyone vying for "speak" time.

Dinner discussions can be about anything and everything -- and since so much about life is difficult these days, we tend to find ways to laugh, so teasing is a favorite past-time. It's naughty, I know, but for as long as I can remember, we've been trying to get my mom to repeat "dirty" words -- we've yet to accomplish this, I should add. But, nevertheless, like rowdy kids, we keep asking her to say, "shit," and "fuck," and laugh like crazy that she can't get the words out of her mouth. She even gets squeamish when someone flips the finger. When asked about it, she blushes, and calls that middle finger her "dirty" finger. Oh my god. She's such a sweet, innocent prude -- it's hard not to tease her, especially because we know she spends all her spare time reading Harlequin Romance novels. My dad is sweet and innocent in many ways too -- naive, based on today's standards. But he likes raunchy jokes - even the gross, nasty ones -- and gets such a kick out them that he likes to share them at the dinner table -- no matter which age group is currently being represented there. It's like he's missing that interior editor that reminds you not to curse in public ... he just tells the joke and laughs like he's back in the army. It's hilarious.

Lately, though, both my folks seem a little too fragile. Their appetites have diminished over the past couple of months, so they just pick at their food. However, they'd never dream of missing dinner, because it's always been more about filling our souls than filling our stomaches. My mom has started to misplace things -- and she is looking frailer than I've ever seen her. Every day, I study them -- I'm trying to memorize them. It is not easy to watch your parents decline in front of your eyes. The fact that we all know we're going to die doesn't make the thought of departing this planet any easier. And though I hope my folks have many more anniversaries ahead of them, I am counting every breath they take as a gift -- not only for them, but for me. And every smile they give me, every coy look, every raunchy joke, and every warm hug are counted as treasures that I'll cherish forever.

We are so lucky to have our parents, our seniors, our wise ones. Even if we consider them naive or prudish -- we need to remember that they have walked this road before us; they managed to overcome adversities that we may never know or understand. And they are still here. They did something right. We should be much honored to be in their shadows, laugh at their jokes, and share their time. I know I am.

 

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