The One With the Hero
My boss, who we'll call Joanna ("But I couldn't enjoy any of it because Joanna is such a big dull dud"), asked me in our "conference" the other day who my hero was. The answer has always been my grandpa, which is so NOT L.A. I don't admire him because he had lots of money but because he had nothing and he worked hard his whole life for all that he had. I admire him because he had faith and loyally loved my grandma.
But that brings back feelings of sadness that I've been wrestling with for several days now. I haven't quite figured out how to process my feelings about my father's parents. As a child, we had a two-story house with an air vent in the floor. When I opened the air vent, I could hear everything that went on downstairs. Being that I was a budding reporter, I used to eavesdrop frequently as a child. I guess it's a bad habit. But I'd rather know how people feel about me. I heard my little brother telling lies about me and my grandparents, among others, saying some pretty mean things about me. When you're 7 or 8, pretty painful stuff.
There's no real secret that I never really got along with my dad. I've been told I wear my emotions on my sleeve, so I guess everyone knew I didn't like him. As his parents, I guess it makes sense that they didn't like me. They didn't have the most un-biased view, and neither did I. I just felt like he never gave me a chance. He started resenting me before I was even old enough to understand what that word meant, and it continued into my adult life. As a pre-teen, I felt I had to raise my father. I felt like no one else would stand up to him and put him in his place. I guess I designated myself that responsibility, like Muggsy decides to take on a leadership role when he doesn't see anyone else doing it. I think I was a pretty decent mom. I mean, finally, at 47, he's turned into the kind of guy I raised him to be. The only thing he really does now that bothers me is act like he knows more than me. I guess he probably does, but you're talking to the girl who told you to get over yourself when your mom was dying. You're talking to the girl who told you how to reconcile things with your wife. Don't start talking to me like a father now. We've crossed that boundary.
I guess I just wish that his parents would have lived long enough to see me for who I was. I think they would have been proud. At least, I hope they would have.
I also wish my mom's parents would have lived longer. It's a shame that when I think back on my childhood, I don't really miss them that much because I barely remember them. My only real memory of Gram is the time that I told her I started knitting and she seemed so happy because we had something in common. I think I was about 8 or 9. And now I don't even knit anymore.
But I think that as I got older, I would have had more in common with them, just as I have grown to enjoy my mom's family much more than my dad's as I got older. I think they would have been more proud of my accomplishments because college and careers were more important to them. When I was a child, I used to strongly relate to my blue-collar background. I used to embrace my dad's family because I felt they were real. As I grew up, however, my blue-collar friends and relatives began to reject me because I wanted an education and white-collar profession. They always told me that I would get too good for them and wrote me off like I already had. Then, my mom's family became so important to me because they celebrated my accomplishments instead of treating them like they were something to be ashamed of. When hardly anyone from my dad's family showed up to my college graduation, everyone from my mom's family came, throwing me a party that included dinner and gifts. I'll never forget that. That was very, very important to me because it was the first time in a long time that I felt I belonged to a family. I'd like to think that if my mom's parents had lived longer, they would have been a part of that. And maybe they're looking down on me now with more pride than my dad's parents will ever have because they can better understand how successful my accomplishments are.
I paid my way through college, even when everyone told me I'd never make it at a big school. I realized my life's dream at 22. I moved to the other side of the country when that dream got too small. I'm now working on a new dream that I know I will accomplish. Those accomplishments can never be taken away from me, even if I never will hear, "I'm proud of you" from those people that I always tried to please.
Guess it's time to go back to my deathbed. I've been sitting up for way too long. It's all draining now, which is the worst part for me because of all my stomach issues. But I'll be back at it tomorrow. Until then...
But that brings back feelings of sadness that I've been wrestling with for several days now. I haven't quite figured out how to process my feelings about my father's parents. As a child, we had a two-story house with an air vent in the floor. When I opened the air vent, I could hear everything that went on downstairs. Being that I was a budding reporter, I used to eavesdrop frequently as a child. I guess it's a bad habit. But I'd rather know how people feel about me. I heard my little brother telling lies about me and my grandparents, among others, saying some pretty mean things about me. When you're 7 or 8, pretty painful stuff.
There's no real secret that I never really got along with my dad. I've been told I wear my emotions on my sleeve, so I guess everyone knew I didn't like him. As his parents, I guess it makes sense that they didn't like me. They didn't have the most un-biased view, and neither did I. I just felt like he never gave me a chance. He started resenting me before I was even old enough to understand what that word meant, and it continued into my adult life. As a pre-teen, I felt I had to raise my father. I felt like no one else would stand up to him and put him in his place. I guess I designated myself that responsibility, like Muggsy decides to take on a leadership role when he doesn't see anyone else doing it. I think I was a pretty decent mom. I mean, finally, at 47, he's turned into the kind of guy I raised him to be. The only thing he really does now that bothers me is act like he knows more than me. I guess he probably does, but you're talking to the girl who told you to get over yourself when your mom was dying. You're talking to the girl who told you how to reconcile things with your wife. Don't start talking to me like a father now. We've crossed that boundary.
I guess I just wish that his parents would have lived long enough to see me for who I was. I think they would have been proud. At least, I hope they would have.
I also wish my mom's parents would have lived longer. It's a shame that when I think back on my childhood, I don't really miss them that much because I barely remember them. My only real memory of Gram is the time that I told her I started knitting and she seemed so happy because we had something in common. I think I was about 8 or 9. And now I don't even knit anymore.
But I think that as I got older, I would have had more in common with them, just as I have grown to enjoy my mom's family much more than my dad's as I got older. I think they would have been more proud of my accomplishments because college and careers were more important to them. When I was a child, I used to strongly relate to my blue-collar background. I used to embrace my dad's family because I felt they were real. As I grew up, however, my blue-collar friends and relatives began to reject me because I wanted an education and white-collar profession. They always told me that I would get too good for them and wrote me off like I already had. Then, my mom's family became so important to me because they celebrated my accomplishments instead of treating them like they were something to be ashamed of. When hardly anyone from my dad's family showed up to my college graduation, everyone from my mom's family came, throwing me a party that included dinner and gifts. I'll never forget that. That was very, very important to me because it was the first time in a long time that I felt I belonged to a family. I'd like to think that if my mom's parents had lived longer, they would have been a part of that. And maybe they're looking down on me now with more pride than my dad's parents will ever have because they can better understand how successful my accomplishments are.
I paid my way through college, even when everyone told me I'd never make it at a big school. I realized my life's dream at 22. I moved to the other side of the country when that dream got too small. I'm now working on a new dream that I know I will accomplish. Those accomplishments can never be taken away from me, even if I never will hear, "I'm proud of you" from those people that I always tried to please.
Guess it's time to go back to my deathbed. I've been sitting up for way too long. It's all draining now, which is the worst part for me because of all my stomach issues. But I'll be back at it tomorrow. Until then...
posted by Rachel at
11:03 AM
3 Comments:
Yuck, you're sick! That sucks. I hate being sick, and just having to lay there all day and stare at the TV, when you actually have a free day with which you could do so much if you felt good! My favorite days are calling in sick-when-you're-not-really-sick-days! :) I hope you feel better soon.
Now to comment on the post itself ... family is such a tricky thing. We don't want to be like them, but we want their pride in our successes. We don't want their advice (when we're teenagers anyway) but we want their love. Just speaking about your dad's side of the family, I think each and every one of them adores you. I always thought they saw you as the golden girl. And they ARE intimidated by the things you've accomplished. We were the first ones to go to college, some of them might not have graduated from HS (I'm not sure about this). My mom is always very sensitive about the fact that she's the only one in our family that didn't go to college. I can tell she feels dumb and beneath us even though none of us feel that way about her. I know I respect the experiences she has been through and the advice she gives me (despite the craziness that ensues sometimes). Let's see ... what was my point?
I THINK my point was that I KNOW Grandma and Grandpa W were and are very proud of who you've become and look forward to the successes that you will have. I don't think our family always knows how to express their love, and it would be a major understatement to say it's a defensive group of folks. Re: the comments made when you were young, I do have a hard time understanding this, but I think that their love for your dad must have been so intense b/c he was the only one created out of their love for each other. So maybe their behavior was irrational b/c they loved him so much. I know my mom has struggled with understanding this too (of course she was probably spoiled rotten as the only girl until he came along!). It is NO excuse for the things they said about you, and I would imagine they would both deeply regret having said those things today. It brings tears to my eyes to think about how that must hurt you and how hard it is to understand ... (I know, I know, everything brings tears to my eyes ... I'm turning into Grandma). I gotta go pick up the little guy, so I'll have to mull on this and comment more later.
By
Monica, at 3:40 PM
Believe it or not, Robert was the only one of Merle's kids to graduate from high school.
By
Rachel, at 5:52 PM
Another thing to perhaps consider is that females in Grandma and Grandpa's generation were to be submissive, and never aggressive. There is a huge historical pathos connected with that, and their criticism of you I think was directed at your blossoming aggressiveness. That was a thing to be avoided at all costs in their view. If they knew you today, would they be able to get past that judgement of you? Maybe, maybe not. Their view of the world was so profoundly rooted in that belief. But they loved you to the very best of their ability. Maybe that's all we can ask of people, and then move on "to thine own self be true". And remember, too, that only God's love is unconditional and limitless.
By
Diana, at 2:51 PM
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