The last few weeks of life in Humptulips County have not been pleasant. We’ve had stereophonic construction between the replacement of a gas transmission line behind the house and the installation of new windows on its far side. While the east side of the house was festooned with scaffolding and workers noisily at play, we were stereophonically treated on its west side to the comings and goings of numerous varietals of the heavy equipment species, one of which was utterly lacking in ascertainable purpose and mysteriously heron-like in appearance. In the midst of this construction fervor, I underwent what should have been a minor medical procedure which turned, instead, into the “Procedure from Hell” due to the chemicals our current medical profession so fervently worships – the chemicals that seem to be as central to a modern doctor’s beliefs and practices as the application of leeches was to doctors of yore.
But all of that pales into insignificance alongside the fact that my entire immediate family will be present by day’s end. Don, Sarah, Chloe and Emma are in Seattle for a wedding and will be coming to the house after a wedding brunch, and Peter and Amanda, his girlfriend, will arrive sometime this morning after camping out in a state park last night and the night before. So, by this evening we will have 8 people at the farm, with not enough bedrooms, some very tired children who were up far too late last night at the wedding, the lingering paint smell from the installation of the new windows, the swath of raked and tamed dirt that signifies a recently buried, refurbished transmission line, and the last-minute efforts of Helen and myself to finally right the house from its former slightly capsized condition.
This is not, however, a recipe for disaster. Instead it is a recipe for joy. I cannot remember the last time we were all together, and I am eagerly anticipating the kind of melodious hubbub that only an extended family can produce within a confined space. Will we have the right kind of food for young palates, or have they acquired a taste for something new about which we old fogies are unaware? Will everyone be on their best behavior or will tiredness reign? Can we find enough places for everyone to sleep comfortably in a house with not enough bedrooms, and will Chloe and Emma still enjoy sleeping on futons in the library?
The list of minor anxieties is far longer, but who really cares?
For the truth is that none of the bad possibilities matter, since none of the “bad” possibilities are truly bad. What does matter is family and the interaction among family members. This will be a rare time of direct person-to-person communication, rather than the usual indirect means of communication from son to parents to other son and family and back again.
Every time our family gets together, new stories are written – some of them funny or occasionally hilarious, some of them sad or an occasion for regret, some of them simply recitals of current events and emotions of the sort which significantly reduce the span of the continent over which our family is spread. What all of these stories will have in common, however, is that they will add to the family lore in large or small measure, and the ties that bind us together will be just that much stronger when the visits end.
As I grow older and suffer the associated aches and pains that accompany the process, I have learned to value these visits more – both because they happen far too rarely (alas, not for us the extended annual family visits I associated with Thanksgiving and Christmas as a child) and because they are food for my soul. During such visits, I often find myself sitting quietly and simply watching the activity and listening to the conversations with one ear, while marveling internally over the complexity of the warp and woof of this living entity called family. The resulting tapestry is truly amazing, graced as it is by Helen’s ability to see through any complexity to the simple essence at its heart, Peter’s straightforward, good-humored determination to ignore things nature has thrown in his way and to get on with his life as if those things had never been, Don’s obvious love and caring for Sarah and the girls and the depths of his compassion for others, Sarah’s loveliness of face, character and temperament and her desire to accomplish as much as she can in all arenas of life, and the ongoing intrigue of the true nature of Peter’s and Amanda’s relationship.
I suppose I have developed a reputation as being somewhat disengaged at times during these visits, but the opposite is really true despite outward appearances. These visits are life-blood to me, and to immerse myself within the family’s ebbs and flows heals many an ache or a pain. So when I appear withdrawn, I am really fully absorbed within the life force of the family; I am, instead, watching, pondering, analyzing, and bathing in these waters of replenishment and renewal. These visits are both the family as art and the family as continuum, and I revel in all of their aspects.
And so I await this day, aches, pains, construction displacement and aggravation firmly pushed aside and forgotten in the unvarnished joy of anticipation.
