May 19: Dorianne Laux, "Family Stories," Black Sheep

Family Stories

by:  Dorianne Laux

I had a boyfriend who told me stories about his family,

how an argument once ended when his father

seized a lit birthday cake in both hands

and hurled it out a second-story window. That,

I thought, was what a normal family was like: anger

sent out across the sill, landing like a gift

to decorate the sidewalk below. In mine

it was fists and direct hits to the solar plexus,

and nobody ever forgave anyone. But I believed

the people in his stories really loved one another,

even when they yelled and shoved their feet

through cabinet doors, or held a chair like a bottle

of cheap champagne, christening the wall,

rungs exploding from their holes.

I said it sounded harmless, the pomp and fury

of the passionate. He said it was a curse

being born Italian and Catholic and when he

looked from that window what he saw was the moment

rudely crushed. But all I could see was a gorgeous

three-layer cake gliding like a battered ship

down the sidewalk, the smoking candles broken, sunk

deep in the icing, a few still burning.

________________________

Let me tell you now that I love my family, each and every member.  That doesn't mean that I agree with all of the things that everyone does.  I think family members can be petty, cheap, vindictive, stupid, controlling, and shortsighted.  I accept those shortcomings in the people who are important to me.  It's who they are, for better or worse.

I come from a pretty passionate group of people.  Everyone believes they are absolutely right.  All the time.  And they like telling me how I should live my life.  I have learned to listen to them, sometimes argue with them, sometimes ignore them, and then I do exactly what I want to do.  That's how I survive.

Saint Marty is sort of a black sheep, but at least he's sane.  Sort of.