Day Ninety-Five: The Path We Chose

I am reading a fictionalized biography called "Loving Frank"* by Nancy Horan. I am struck with how much this book is about the difficulty of finding true happiness in this life. Indeed, it asks the question whether or not it is possible to be truly and completely happy. It tells the story of Mamah Borthwick, the lover of the groundbreaking American architect Frank Lloyd Wright. The significance of this is liaison is that she was a married woman with two children when she met Frank in 1907. He was married with six children. After years of a clandestine affair, she walked away from convention and her family to move to Europe with him. She then studied languages, took in European art and architecture, wrote and became a translator for Ellen Kay, an early feminist philosopher. These pursuits would have been impossible if she stayed in her marriage. Mamah was ultimately granted a divorce, but Frank was not. Both of them, as well as their extended families, suffered from the public humiliation and the hounding press while away in Europe. It became more scathingly when they returned to live in seclusion at a house Frank built in Wisconsin. They had virtually no family nor friends when they returned. Frank was unable to find clients because of the scandal. It is not the makings of an easy existence and it calls in question many conventions that we still abide by today.

Mamah was a very intelligent and sensitive person. Otherwise, how could she have ever realized her own unhappiness? She was loved and respected by her husband, they were financially well off, they had household and child rearing help which left her with the ability to pursue her interests, within limits, in the Women's Suffrage Movement. However, she did not love her husband. She never did. When she met Frank, who they employed to build them a home, she realized that she had met her soul mate. This led to the realization that she was simply sleepwalking through her life, never testing herself, not growing in any intellectual or spiritual way and not living authentically. Having this revelation, and then actually acting upon, it is stunning for a turn of the century American woman. Remember, women still had not yet even gained the right to vote. Suffregists were rable rousers. Career women were unnatural. She had a "perfect life" and she completely severed herself from it. Because of her decision, she became a social pariah, labeled a harlot and judged mentally unstable.

This is not too far off from what would happen if this took place today. Sure, women are freer to pursue their dreams in the first place, but this story is not unique to this time and place. How many of us, men and women, have started down a life path only to realize that it isn't really what they envisioned, wanted or needed? How many of us have the strength to change our lives when so many other people are depending on us to keep on in our chosen direction? Many of us live to fulfill other's expectations. Surely this cannot be what it means to be happy. Maybe we chose our careers or our mates to please our parents. Maybe we stay with a mate or career because it is safe and predictable. Maybe we squelch our dreams because others won't approve, we don't have enough self confidence to try something outside of our box or because it feels like our cast has been set in stone. Can happiness be had in such circumstances?

These are the questions of this novel, as these are the questions raised by Mamah's life. She leaves her two children for her lover. As a mother, I judged that decision harshly. She had no idea whether she would be able to see them again, as the law did not look favorably on a mother who deserted her children for an adulterous affair. Yet, I do not walk in her shoes. I feel I have found my match in life in my husband. What if I didn't? Would it matter? Doesn't the law of the universe, morality and convention dictate that a mother may never abandon her children to seek self fulfillment and/or true love? Isn't this the very definition of selfishness? I don't know the answer. I do know that she was a very brave woman to put herself first as it cost both her and those she loved a great deal of pain and suffering.

That brings us to the bigger questions: Can we ever truly be happy? What is happiness? Is it living to your fullest potential? Is it living by the rules of convention and making the best of what we have? Is happiness by definition selfish or is it selfless? Can it be both? Sounds like the stuff of a college philosophy class in which I was completely lost. Without this life experience I have gained, I couldn't possibly then understand the questions themselves, let alone look for the answers.

I have been very fortunate in a great many respects. My options as a young woman were virtually limitless. I followed a career path I chose that has allowed me a great deal of self fulfillment. I got to study what I wanted. I got to live on my own. I made decent money as a result and mainly spent it as I wished. I made my own decisions with little or no worry for others, as I did not support others. Now, things are very different. I am a wife and mother. I have decided that these roles are more important to me than that of my career. This decision was made for me and for those I love. I have also decided that it is best for my children to have me at home now. This decision was made for their benefit, not for mine. Still, I could no more walk away from them and this decision than I could cut off my right arm, no matter how unhappy I may feel from time to time. I am sure that is because I have a true partner; someone who understands me, respects my decisions, my contribution, my whole package, for better or for worse. If it was not so, I would be drowning and utterly unhappy. In this way, I have empathy for Mamah and her decision even though I don't agree with it.

In the end, our own happiness does indeed depend upon others. I do not believe that we can be truly happy without others to love, to care for, to worry about, to share with and to nurture. The mistake many of us make is feeling that it is all or nothing. We can't be happy if we don't find fulfillment within ourselves whether that is a creative, spiritual or intellectual outlet. We cannot give to others anything of value if our own cup is empty. At the same time, we cannot be happy when we make those we love unhappy with us and our decisions. We cannot solely live for ourselves, as that is a very lonely existence indeed. The balance is precarious. It was impossible to find in 1907 and it is still very hard to find today. The times may have changed, but the questions remain the same. All we can do in this life to be happy is to seek the balance.

(Again, I know this is a title and needs to be underlined, but I still can't figure it out on this damn program.)

Day Ninety-Four: What Makes a Family?

THE VARIED IMAGES OF MY FAMILY

Tim with Joey and Jacob Easter Egg Hunting



Life-Long Friends: Kelly, Terri & Frank in California

Seven Grandsons, One Set of Grandparents and a Long, Hot and Sticky Day at Story Land NH

Seven Great Grandsons and One Great-Grandmother, Helen



Two Grandmothers, Sandi & Jodi, and One New Baby David




Four Harrington Sisters-In-Law: Terri, Donna, Amy & Donna-Maria



Sisters Becki & Terri Exploring an Inaugural D.C. with Niece Kaitlyn




The Entire Harrington Clan at Christmas (okay, no noticed Jack was hiding...)

It is an interesting question, isn't it? What makes a family? There are as many faces of families as there are types of people in the world. There are those that want to define it. There are those that take it for granted. Sadly, there are even those who never really experience what it is to be part of a real family. I'm not interested in any definitions or legalities, I am only interested in its essence. A family is love. Sure, families are complicated, messy, infuriating, annoying, time consuming and exasperating. At the same time, families are safe, secure, dependable, loyal, lovable and absolutely necessary. The truth is that family is forever, no matter how much we want it to be so or how much we don't. Family is what makes life worth living.

I come from a very small, close knit family. We fight, argue and generally drive each other crazy, but we all have each other's back without question. I don't have any cousins and only one uncle, so family gatherings were not loud, raucous affairs, but they were the stuff that made for stability and plenty of good memories. The small number contrasted by the very large personalities created very intimate relationships. Many were forged in flames of conflict, but that is just how we did it, for good or for bad. We all know just about everything that there is to know about one another. You name it, we find out. It is all out there: finances, politics, health, joys, troubles, opinions and grudges. I have a feeling that those that have married into this group have had some moments of uncomfortable adjustment (to say the leas) but it is working out nonetheless. Despite how many times I lamented my loud, nosey family, I relish in the security of knowing that there are people who know me inside and out and will always love me just the same.

I was both blessed and cursed to marry into a very large Irish Catholic family. I was so terrified in the beginning. How would I ever learn all these names? Who belonged to who? How would I fit in? It turns out that these were non issues. I fit in my being myself. I remembered all the names and even the birthdays and anniversaries with the help of many visits and a large chart on my refrigerator. (Okay, I only remember the immediate family, I still generally have no ideas of names and relationships when we are at a wedding or family reunion. Those are the times I just nod and smile and ask questions of my husband later. Sometimes, he doesn't even know the answer.) There is always love and laughter at every gathering and even the added bonus of fun stuff like gossip, wine and girl talk. This large family has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I love being part of it.

I also know that my closest and oldest friends are family. I love them as much as I love my siblings and I can relax with them in ways I cannot with anyone else. I have always been an open book, so they know what they are getting from me; unconditional support, loyalty, more than a bit of judgment, unsolicited advice, many hours of rantings and ravings and always as much love as I can give. Family is not born of blood or marriage alone, and these 5 people are as much my family as anyone.

Of course, there is nothing like becoming a parent to drive home the meaning of family. I thought that getting married magically made a family. It many ways, it does. But there is nothing that compares to becoming a parent. The endless adoration, frustration, worry, expectation, exhaustion and joy can only be experienced by a parent. I think this is because it is the only relationship that has nothing to do with anyone but the "other." It doesn't matter if you are rich, poor, educated, illiterate, first-world, third-world, God-fearing or atheist; every parent who loves their child wants to give them the moon, see them succeed, and protect them from all harm. The methods and the means may be drastically different, but the core essence is the same. By no means do I think that this definition comes with biological ties only. Adopting babies or children or both must feel exactly the same. I know this not because I have an adopted child, but because I always wanted to have one. I discussed it with my husband years ago and we wondered aloud if it would feel different with an adopted child because we have biological children. Maybe I am naive, but in my heart of hearts, I know I would feel no different.

I recently saw an interview of Rosie O'Donnell. She was talking about a documentary she did for HBO on family, called "A Family Is a Family Is a Family." I know Rosie can be a very polarizing figure to add into this discussion. She is gay, she has adopted children, she is very famous, very opinionated and very loud. I, for one, really like her because her public persona feels very authentic. She doesn't appear to put on airs or be something she is not. I respect that and I like to think I am very much like that as well. I don't like everything she says or necessarily agree with all of what she is about. Regardless, you don't have to like her to understand what she is trying to say. A family is love. I believe that. If we teach that, the world becomes a much kinder and gentler place.

I love my family. I constantly learn from my parents, my siblings, my grandparents, my in-laws, my nieces, my nephews, my friends and especially my husband and children that nothing is more important than family. I hope that my family knows how much they mean to me. I am certain that I, along with my husband, will pass the importance and love of family onto my children. No matter what kindness I do for others: for neighbors, acquaintances or strangers, the kindness we show our family is often both the toughest to deliver and the most important to demonstrate. What makes a family? A complicated, messy and wonderful mix of people who love each other.