May 5: Epitomize, Family, Dysfunction

Ives and Annie seemed to epitomize, with their well-behaved children, a wondrous example of what a family should be like, especially in that neighborhood, where many of the kids were rough and got into trouble.  In a London Fog overcoat, with his pipe in hand, Ives would lead his little family along the streets, toward the park, ever pleased by the attention that passersby seemed to pay them.

From the outside, the Ives family looks pretty ideal.  Beautiful wife.  Successful husband.  Pious son.  Smart daughter.  They go to church together on Sundays and host Christmas parties every year for neighborhood friends.  At night, when Robert and Caroline are asleep, Ives and his wife listen to jazz recordings or retire to their bedroom for a night of quiet passion.  Perfect.


Of course, we all know there's no such thing as a perfect family.  Robert gets murdered coming out of church while Caroline is huffing glue or paint at a strange boy's apartment.  Ives sinks into a depression that lasts years.  And Annie is left to move forward in life without the help of her beloved husband.  Perfection is a myth.  It only exists in Renaissance paintings and Archie comic books.

I love my brothers and sisters and mother and father.  My parents raised nine kids during the turbulent 1970s.  They didn't lose a single child to drugs or alcohol or violence.  From the outside, our family looked pretty Brady Bunch-like.  The only problems were whether Jan felt like Marcia got all the attention or Greg saved up enough money to buy groovy decorations for his attic room.

Of course, appearances are not always accurate.  One of my brothers got his girlfriend pregnant and ended up a married, teenaged father.  We've had brushes with addictions and bankruptcy.  Bad marriages.  Divorces.  More addictions.  Dysfunction is pervasive on many levels. 

That doesn't make my family horrible.  We aren't the Al and Peg Bundy clan.  We're just a work in progress.  We argue.  Sometimes we don't talk to each other for days or weeks.  Yet, in the end, we have each others' backs.  My family hasn't always agreed with the life choices I've made.  But, in the end, we sit down every Thanksgiving together and are grateful for each other.

That's what a real family does.

And Saint Marty has a wonderful family that drives him absolutely crazy.

Love and marriage, baby...