An interview with Carolyn Whitaker of Humboldt earlier this week made me realize the value of family. FOR THE PAST 15 years or so I’ve made an annual effort to connect with cousins for a “girls weekend” in Napa, Calif. AFTER THE long weekend I felt more whole.
Whitaker said her interest in genealogy gives her a better understanding of herself.
I could guess from the brief time we were together that she gets her spunk from her great-grandfather, who fought in the Civil War.
OK, “effort” is overkill.
Three of the five live in the Bay Area, with the other in Alaska, so it’s a no-brainer we go for Napa. I’ve given up any pretense that I know, or really care, anything about a wine’s bouquet, but I’m happy to play along as long as I can experience the beauty of the wine district.
Almost as soon as we were loaded up to head north, the talk turned familiar.
The span of a year melted away and we dropped all pretenses that anyone’s life is smooth sailing.
At the same time, I come from a somewhat competitive family.
On the good side, that means we have a bunch of high achievers.
On the bad side, that can mean if you’re experiencing doubts, it’s not so easy to open up.
Hence the benefits of gathering in a valley of wine.
Yes, family may be there through thick and thin, but they also are inherently judgemental because they know Aunt Betsy was a kleptomaniac or Uncle Bill couldn’t hold a job, and by blood you’re only one step away from following in their footsteps.
And by reverse, because your dad was an unqualified success those cut from his cloth have no excuse but to follow suit.
Friends, on the other hand, come without that knowledge and are quicker to accept you at face value.
And yet, family feels like home.
Before our getaway I visited my Uncle Scott, the only surviving sibling of my dad’s, and now living in a retirement community in Berkeley.
What I thought would be a brief hug turned into a minutes-long embrace. The memories came flooding as I drank in his smell and touch.
At 86, he’s still strong, but not so steady.
My favorite memory is how he would catch me mid-air as I would come running into his arms — he was so tall and strong.
“I still could,” he boasted.
Yep, my dad’s kin all right.
Despite the baggage, or because of it, family teaches us about understanding, forgiveness and acceptance — the same lessons we need to apply to ourselves.
I’d come forth with embarrassing tales. I’d admitted setbacks. I told of personal shortcomings.
And they loved me all the more.
Strong family ties allow for moments of weakness
