We're All People After All

Dear Readers,

Since my last post, I have tried and tried and tried again to write this particular blog, and failed at every attempt.  I think the reason why is because I still had more to learn on the subject.  I had the idea, the words jumbled in my head trying to make sense of each other, but they just wouldn't fall into place.  So I started talking about it instead, at length with several of my friends.  Gathering their experiences like berries, one after the other.  Each story confirmed my thesis, however.  And this blog is the result.

A few months ago, on Memorial Day in fact, I was sitting around the cherished yellow table in my parent's kitchen, chatting with my dad and Grandpa Jack about some family history my dad has been working on.  His research and writings focus on a man named John Chamberline Badger, Grandpa Jack's grandpa.  I've heard stories on this man at length, but never much about his wife, so I was asking questions about her.  Grandpa, who is well into his nineties, recalled being a young child and having his Grandma Isabella calling him "Little John".  He recounted some stories about her, but also about his childhood in general.  One of which that sticks out to me was about him and his brothers swimming in the canal on hot days, then laying in the cool dirt on the canal banks in the sun to dry off.  I loved this visual, and had a crystal clear picture of it in my head.  It occurred to me (possibly for the first time) that my grandpa was a child at some point.  He hadn't always been the older gentleman I've known for 30 some years.  He had lived through the depression, World War II, owned a business, helped build a community, married my grandma, raised 4 children, and retired all before I was born.  What?  How is that possible?  Grandparents are people.

A few weeks later, I was at that glorious place they call Banbury.  This is the first summer I can recall that I didn't go swimming once.  Rather I stayed around the campground, stuffing my face with as much food as possible, enjoying the conversations of my relatives.  It was a special year, as all of the Braegger siblings were there, something that hasn't happened in years.  Though I had heard several of the stories they have told before, hearing them as an adult was a completely different experience.  Compound that with being an adult fresh out of crisis, and it made me especially senstive to the topics at hand.  I have always (and probably always will) held my now deceased grandparents, Cal and Hazel, in the highest regard.  From my early memories they shine as examples of compassion and nurturing.  So it was surprising for me to hear stories of their struggles as a young couple raising a young family; the hardships put on their kids from moving around (even just from Rupert to Paul).  Once again, I found myself in the place I had just a few weeks earlier, of realizing that entire lives were lived before I was even born; that mistakes had been made, that grudges had been carried, that they hadn't always been the people that I knew.  Looking around the camp ground at my aunts and uncles, people that I love and adore and have cherished any amount of attention and love they have given me, and realizing that they are people to.  That they've been faced with decisions and choices and not always making the best ones, that they have struggled and suffered.  It made me feel better in a way, more adult and human, to know them and sit among them. Aunts and uncles are people.

My mom and dad are great people, there is no doubt of that.  As it happens to most everyone, there have been a few ups and downs that have made us more aware of our fragility and humanity lately. It's days like these that you will find yourself vulnerable, which in my opinion is a blessing, because that's when you're at your most willing and able to acknowledge what's important and necessary and let go of the frivolities that can become so burdomsome.  I'm not sure about you, but to see my parents in such a spot tears my heart open and turns the tables a bit, making me want to step into the roll of protector and swap duties with them for a while.  I have friends who have done this; taken over the role of parent to their parent.  Making sure food is on the table, that their siblings are cared for.  Cleaning the house and burying dead pets.  I have friends who have cared for their parents when they've lost their sanity or their health or in some cases both.  I have friends who haven't spoken to their parents in years, who have walked away from a relationship that was never fostered to begin with.  I have friends who blame their parents for their own weaknesses, who resent them for their money and their success, who feel that they will only let them down.  I have friends who are best friends with their mom and dad, that can talk with them about everything from sex to politics, their beliefs and their fears, without a trace of shame or a hint of guilt and receive solid advice and unconditional love in return.  I have learned lessons of humility and graciousness from my own parents this year, and I am grateful for that.  I have learned also that there is so much about them that I don't know, that like my grandparents and aunts and uncles, they have lived entire lives before I was born.  Though I don't know what nor do I know if it's my business to, they have made mistakes, have had heartbreak, and have maybe even stood in some of the same crossroads I have, having to make the decisions to go forward or back, or take a new road completely.  I don't know why it's taken me so long, but I'm gladd to be at the age that I can see them this way, appreciate their humanity outside of their parenthood.  My parents are people.

In twenty years or so, I wonder what Lucas will realize about his own parents.  I wonder how he'll view us through those beautifully lashed eyes.  It's easy for me to say right now that we'll always be close; that he will come to us with all of his problems and triumphs; that Shay and I will stand behind all of his choices and decisions.  I wonder if he'll blame me for his tender heart when it gets broken for the first time or shake his fist at Shay for his overprotection.  I can't imagine it now, and I hope beyond hope that everything will go flawlessly and he will live out every ounce of his potential and at the end of it all he'll say, "Thanks Mom and Dad!".  But, it must be said, children are people.

I have to admit this overly wordy blog didn't turn out the way I had intended it to, but I think I got my point across none-the-less.  It's nice to be at a point to look around and see everyone as peers and fellow humans.  It's nice to learn and grow in my own humanity.  As it ends up, I am people too.

Sincerely,
h.