Chances are, you’ve read about the British woman who sent a scathing email to her future stepdaughter-in-law, chastising her bad manners after a weekend visit.
The email went viral after the recipient, 29-year-old Heidi Withers, forwarded it to friends. The story dominated the British media for the last few days and made its way to the United States. In both places, it has evoked strong criticism, much of it directed at mother-in-law to be Carolyn Bourne, a prominent horticulturalist.
My overwhelming thought after reading the news stories and the entire missive? I would have loved to have gotten such an e-mail. Sure, Bourne comes off as snooty, judgmental, and downright insensitive to Withers’ diabetes and the financial situation of her parents. And a mean-spirited diatribe against bad manners seems like, well, bad manners.
Still, after meeting my in-laws to be, I wish they had scripted such a message. I wish they had the courage to address me directly, to tell me exactly where I stood, to put in writing what they thought of me. More than anything, it would have been honest. And to me, honesty is at the heart of family – whether you’re born into it or marry into it. It would have put the issues on the table and precipitated an open discussion. Ideally, we would have reached a compromise, or if not, agreed to disagree and minimize our interactions.
But that’s not the way it went down for the 16 years of marriage before my 2004 divorce. My in-laws proffered criticism about me to their son, made me the scapegoat for his failures, and generally used emotional blackmail to manipulate situations to their liking. Some of their antics over the years make Carolyn Bourne look like a sensitive, open-minded woman. But I won’t share those juicy details since they’re still around, are still grandparents to my son and two nephews, and are still parents to the sister-in-law I adore and my ex-husband.
Suffice it to say that I opted to keep the peace, and consequently, endured 16 years of fake smiles, superficial conversations, and a whole lot of stress, for me individually and for my marriage. Perhaps worst of all, because of their secret vitriol, I never knew when they were being genuine – when to trust anything they said or did. My fears were validated soon after the separation, when they remarked, “We never liked her anyway.”
I haven’t seen or spoken to them since my divorce. I wish them no ill will, but removing them from my life was a gift I gave myself at a time I especially needed such a gift.
If I could do it over again, I’d like to think I would handle it differently. Famous last words, I know. The best I can do now is to vow to do better when my son brings home the woman he plans to marry. My guess is that I’ll love her instantly, but if it takes more work, sign me up. Whatever happens, I’m going to model the kind of honesty that I will expect from her. And most importantly, if I have a beef or two, I pray that I’ll have the good sense to step away from the keyboard.
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Happy 1st Birthday Lizerella!!
July 4 marks the one year anniversary of this blog. A heartfelt thanks to all of you for reading. Hugs to my sister and seven close girlfriends (four at work and three outside), without whose support I wouldn’t have continued. I also want to give a shout-out to my best college friend, a professional editor who always makes time to volunteer advice.
I’ve had a wonderful time, and am looking forward to another year together.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
The Gospel According to JC
At the end of each workday, after he got dinner started, my father settled into a kitchen chair for a few moments of quiet contemplation, sipping Ouzo on the rocks. He would occasionally write his thoughts on 3 1/2 by 5-inch index cards, one thought per card, in cursive blue or black ink.
Over time, he built a three-inch stack of cards. These he stashed in a dresser drawer. They were sandwiched between pieces of cardboard and secured with rubber bands – seemingly so he could slip into the “chapters” additional thoughts as they arose.
The cards aren't dated, but a few refer to the year 1992, suggesting that some were written shortly before he passed away. James Caras died of a heart attack in February of that year; he was 62.
My mom, my sister and I found the stack – 217 cards in all – after his funeral. Some cards contain just a few words; others fill one side and spill onto the back. The
first card: The Gospel According to JC.
JC’s chapters include musings on his family, his work, his personal beliefs. Many are poignant, some funny, some R-rated and one or two, frankly, a little disturbing. My favorite chapter is “Comments I Might Make to a Son.” He never had a son (just my sister and me) but I have one. That 17-year-old has many of my dad’s positive traits, and to say that they would have loved each other is a supreme understatement.
Over the years, I’ve toyed with the idea of doing something with the cards. But nothing felt quite right. And then, when my dad came to mind because of Father’s Day this weekend, I figured that the cards had been sheltered in my desk long enough.
Like the person who wrote them, they’re not perfect. My dad was a smart, gentle man and a loving, dedicated father. But he didn't suffer fools lightly, sometimes blew up in anger at the inconsequential, and had difficulty making peace with the people and situations he felt betrayed by.
The stack’s second card provides a glimpse into the sharper edges that few outside the family saw: Why am I writing this? For posterity? Who cares. For publication? Hardly! For catharsis? Bullshit!
With that being said, I present a sampling of the gospel’s entries. It wasn’t easy to choose. First, I ruled out his critiques of the American political system, the American education system (my dad was a high school guidance director), the Greek Orthodox Church and organized religion in general. (Enough each for a blog post their own). I settled on those that made me think, made me smile, or made me chuckle. I chose the ones that might resonate still for my mom, my sister, my son, myself, and for you dear reader, because this gift is too special to keep to ourselves.
So here goes. Personal philosophy:
• What is the perfect man? One who listens to and follows his own heart.
• Intimidation is a kind of death. When you permit yourself to be intimidated into doing something you feel you should not, a small part of your uniquely beautiful being dies.
• Never make an idle threat, voice a meaningless comment or extend an undeserved compliment – unless you are a politician or a clergyman.
• Better to be thought a bastard than a jerk.
• It is your right to have and maintain all your hang-ups. You do not have the right to lay them on anyone else.
• There are those who see a bed of roses and behold beauty. There are others who see the same bed and can only imagine hidden rattlesnakes. Decide which you wish to be.
• The world is full of people who would not dare take a fat bite of life for fear the taste would be bitter. Don’t be one of them. If the taste is bitter, spit it out and bite again.
• May God protect me from doctors, lawyers and garage mechanics. All others I can deal with myself.
Friends, family and enemies:
• Respect, like love and friendship, is a two-way street. Give it only when you get it.
• Be sure you always know who your friends are and who your acquaintances are. Make many acquaintances. Limit your friends to a significant few.
• There will never be a shortage of “friends” who are willing to hold your coat while you slug it out. Piss on your coat and to hell with your gutless friends.
• React toward your relatives as you would toward your friends. If one looms an asshole, dump him. You really don’t need him at your funeral.
• Never try to “out piss” a skunk. You are not in his league. Better to bide your time, pick your place and then very methodically cut his head off.
• When you are being attacked by “big guns” and all you have is a pea-shooter – aim for the balls.
Wisdom with age:
• I have always loved without restriction or hesitation. Unfortunately, I have hated with the same intensity.
• Any decision that I permitted to be made for me, I lived to regret. I cannot think of a single exception.
• I have always been a keen observer of life. I would have liked it better to have been more of an active participant.
• During the first twenty years of my life, I was convinced that reincarnation was bunk. During the second twenty years of my life, I was convinced that reincarnation was fact. Now, I just don’t give a damn.
• Regrets? Yes, many. The one biggest regret is that I didn’t tell more people to “go fuck themselves.”
If you’re lucky enough that your father is living, get his “gospel” while you can still ask questions. I’d sure have a few for mine.
Mostly, though, I’d thank him for the cards, which include one about my sister and me: Both my daughters please me. I have never regretted having fathered them into this world. They have filled my heart with joy.
Right back at you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.
Over time, he built a three-inch stack of cards. These he stashed in a dresser drawer. They were sandwiched between pieces of cardboard and secured with rubber bands – seemingly so he could slip into the “chapters” additional thoughts as they arose.
The cards aren't dated, but a few refer to the year 1992, suggesting that some were written shortly before he passed away. James Caras died of a heart attack in February of that year; he was 62.
My mom, my sister and I found the stack – 217 cards in all – after his funeral. Some cards contain just a few words; others fill one side and spill onto the back. The
first card: The Gospel According to JC.
Over the years, I’ve toyed with the idea of doing something with the cards. But nothing felt quite right. And then, when my dad came to mind because of Father’s Day this weekend, I figured that the cards had been sheltered in my desk long enough.
Like the person who wrote them, they’re not perfect. My dad was a smart, gentle man and a loving, dedicated father. But he didn't suffer fools lightly, sometimes blew up in anger at the inconsequential, and had difficulty making peace with the people and situations he felt betrayed by.
The stack’s second card provides a glimpse into the sharper edges that few outside the family saw: Why am I writing this? For posterity? Who cares. For publication? Hardly! For catharsis? Bullshit!
With that being said, I present a sampling of the gospel’s entries. It wasn’t easy to choose. First, I ruled out his critiques of the American political system, the American education system (my dad was a high school guidance director), the Greek Orthodox Church and organized religion in general. (Enough each for a blog post their own). I settled on those that made me think, made me smile, or made me chuckle. I chose the ones that might resonate still for my mom, my sister, my son, myself, and for you dear reader, because this gift is too special to keep to ourselves.
So here goes. Personal philosophy:
• What is the perfect man? One who listens to and follows his own heart.
• Intimidation is a kind of death. When you permit yourself to be intimidated into doing something you feel you should not, a small part of your uniquely beautiful being dies.
• Never make an idle threat, voice a meaningless comment or extend an undeserved compliment – unless you are a politician or a clergyman.
• Better to be thought a bastard than a jerk.
• It is your right to have and maintain all your hang-ups. You do not have the right to lay them on anyone else.
• There are those who see a bed of roses and behold beauty. There are others who see the same bed and can only imagine hidden rattlesnakes. Decide which you wish to be.
• The world is full of people who would not dare take a fat bite of life for fear the taste would be bitter. Don’t be one of them. If the taste is bitter, spit it out and bite again.
• May God protect me from doctors, lawyers and garage mechanics. All others I can deal with myself.
Friends, family and enemies:
• Respect, like love and friendship, is a two-way street. Give it only when you get it.
• Be sure you always know who your friends are and who your acquaintances are. Make many acquaintances. Limit your friends to a significant few.
• There will never be a shortage of “friends” who are willing to hold your coat while you slug it out. Piss on your coat and to hell with your gutless friends.
• React toward your relatives as you would toward your friends. If one looms an asshole, dump him. You really don’t need him at your funeral.
• Never try to “out piss” a skunk. You are not in his league. Better to bide your time, pick your place and then very methodically cut his head off.
• When you are being attacked by “big guns” and all you have is a pea-shooter – aim for the balls.
Wisdom with age:
• I have always loved without restriction or hesitation. Unfortunately, I have hated with the same intensity.
• Any decision that I permitted to be made for me, I lived to regret. I cannot think of a single exception.
• I have always been a keen observer of life. I would have liked it better to have been more of an active participant.
• During the first twenty years of my life, I was convinced that reincarnation was bunk. During the second twenty years of my life, I was convinced that reincarnation was fact. Now, I just don’t give a damn.
• Regrets? Yes, many. The one biggest regret is that I didn’t tell more people to “go fuck themselves.”
If you’re lucky enough that your father is living, get his “gospel” while you can still ask questions. I’d sure have a few for mine.
Mostly, though, I’d thank him for the cards, which include one about my sister and me: Both my daughters please me. I have never regretted having fathered them into this world. They have filled my heart with joy.
Right back at you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.
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