Creating a (Chosen) Family

Photo by AgnosticPreachersKid.

Photo by AgnosticPreachersKid.

Originally published on August 15, 2013.  I thought this post is especially relevant for people who are no longer in contact with their families of origin this holiday season.

Someone recently found this blog by googling, “how to find others who don’t have family to celebrate with.” It broke my heart to think about the lonely person behind that search phrase, so today I thought I’d give him or her some ideas.

The wonderful thing about chosen relatives is that, well, you get to decide who you want to claim as one of your own. Being related to someone through blood, marriage, or adoption in no way guarantees anything about what kind of relationship you’ll have with them. Some families are exceptionally close, others rarely get together. Some are warm and supportive, others are highly dysfunctional.

Everyone needs a few chosen family members, even those of us who have many supportive relatives. There’s no such thing as a family that is too large or a social network that is too strong, and it’s wonderful to expand those circles when you meet the right people.

From what I’ve seen, chosen families develop slowly over time.

The people I’ve added to my family at various times in my life have shown up in all sorts of ways. Several started out as avatars on a message board I frequented years ago. Well, technically they were real people using avatars on a message board, but it wasn’t until I got to know them over a long period of time that I felt as if we were kin.

Others I met through my spouse or parents. Look around your current circle of friends and pay attention to who else they spend time with. You might find likeminded people just one social circle away.

I would also recommend putting this quest on the back burner and helping someone else. Volunteer for your favourite charity, or if you already volunteer see if there are any other organizations that need help setting up or running an event. Or show up for the festival/concert/fundraiser and see who you can strike up a conversation with there.

What labels are part of your identity? If there is an organization dedicated to your occupation/ethnicity/sexual orientation/(lack of) religion anywhere near you they might host something special over the holidays.

Readers, what have I missed? How did you first meet your closest friends, the ones that act like relatives?

 

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People Aren’t Projects

Originally posted on March 11, 2013. 

“Let’s go talk to the street preachers!” Drew teased this past weekend. I raised my eyebrow and glanced over at him, trying not to roll my eyes.

Muslim, Jewish or Christian, street evangelists in Toronto share the same goal: to convert you. Certain groups loudly berate (female) strangers they think are too scantily clad. A handful are mentally ill, arguing with people who aren’t really there or exhibiting disorganized thought patterns if you listen to what they have to say. Others are quite friendly and knowledgable, especially if you can get them to discuss something other than religion.

After a year or two of living here I began avoiding all of them because people aren’t projects. It’s just as inappropriate to yell at strangers that they’re all going to hell as it is to take advantage of an existing friendship to push the issue.

Evangelism isn’t just a religious phenomenon, though. I’ve seen people use forms of friendship evangelism to convince others to:

  • Eat certain foods
  • Avoid other foods
  • Lose weight
  • Gain weight
  • Own a car
  • Use public transit
  • Get pregnant 
  • Raise your kid my way
  • Switch to reusable shopping bags*
  • Vote only for candidates from party X 

Regardless of whether those around them actually needed advice or had any intention of considering unsolicited input.

Do some of these urges come from a good place? Yes. Wanting other people to experience the same joy you do from a certain experience or decision is completely understandable but adults are responsible for their own lives.

Attempting to transform a friendship into a situation in which one person knows best for another taints every interaction. Am I asking about your latest doctor’s visit because I’m genuinely concerned or because I want you to buy megadoses of a particular vitamin that is sure to fix your incurable disease? Are you wondering for whom I voted in the last provincial election because you are thinking about voting for someone new or so you can make sure I’m not a Pauper?

It comes down to this: debating differences of opinion is healthy. By all means question the why and what of other people’s ideas and identity’s but condensing another human being to where they stand on one issue and then trying to “fix” that part of them doesn’t build trust. It erodes it.

*Yes, I have actually seen so-called grown ups get snippy about this one.

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Suggestion Saturday: December 21, 2013

Photo by Technohell. It has nothing to do with today's post, I just find it fascinating!

Photo by Technohell. It has nothing to do with today’s post, I just find it fascinating!

Other than next week’s Suggestion Saturday link roundup this is the last new post here at On the Other Hand until 2014.  I will be republishing a few favourite posts from 2013 in the meantime.  I hope all of my readers have a safe and wonderful holiday season, and I will be back on January 2nd with the next instalment of After the Storm.

Is Santa Real? What do you think?

Bleak Midwinter via JexShinigami. I know I say this every time I promote this author’s work, but everything I want to say about this story will give you spoilers. Just go read it!

A Good Men’s Rights Movement Is Hard To Find. This article succinctly explains many of the issues in the Men’s Rights Movement.

We Grew Up in the Same Building. Every entry on Humans in New York is fantastic, but this one is the perfect place to start if you hadn’t heard of this site yet. Most photographs are accompanied by a very short (generally 3-4 sentence) interview with subjects from every walk of life you can imagine.

Hazing Funeral Interns via CalebWilde. If I had the money to pursue more education I’d seriously consider becoming a funeral director. This blog post is the funniest thing I’ve read this week, but  it does make me reconsider my interest in this profession!

23 and You. How using a commercial DNA test can reveal long-buried family secrets.

From Our Daughters:

Because we do not approve of you having sex with our high school daughters, we have equipped their vaginas with automatic intrusion alarms. Once triggered, these alarms will screech out at unbearable volumes, transmit emergency GPS information to the nearest security forces, and instantly alert the Purity Apps on our phones and phablets.

 


Sheepish describes what it’s like to operate a sheep farm. The author and her partner had virtually no experience with sheep before buying their current farm, and their steep learning curve provided me with a ton of laughs.

I loved how Catherine described the rural community she and her partner have made their own. Too often books about returning to the land either romanticize or vilify small town life. The real world is rarely that black and white, though, and it was refreshing to read this author’s honest thoughts about the benefits and drawbacks of living in such a rural setting.

This is the perfect book to bring with you on a holiday trip. It’s lighthearted, funny, and endearing without ever slipping into sugary prose. You can slip into and out of it again without worrying too much about forgetting a character’s name. Most of their sheep don’t actually have names (for reasons that are hilariously described in the first chapter), so once you figure out the name of Catherine’s wife you’re all set.

I can’t recommend this story highly enough. It was a great one.

What have you been reading?

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The Bear and the Hare

If the video isn’t visible or doesn’t play, click here.

Other than the next two Suggestion Saturday posts, On the Other Hand is now on hiatus until January 1. I will be republishing my favourite posts from 2013 over the holidays instead.

Happy Holidays to my readers. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts, and I will see everyone again in 2014.

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To Be or Not to Be

I’ve never found Hamlet’s Soliloquy particularly interesting before today.

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After the Storm: Part Thirty-Six

Photo by Sir Gawain

Photo by Sir Gawain

Just tuning in? Start here.

Daphne sat on the bench next to the fire and looked around the small, crowded living space. Paige snored in the rocking chair at the corner of the room. No matter how often Daphne tried to get the older woman to move in closer to the fire she always drifted back to what must be the coldest corner of the main room.

“He’ll see me,” Paige muttered the last time Daphne woke her up to try yet again. “Best to stay out of his way.” Daphne sighed and tucked another blanket around Paige’s feet before going to check on the children. They were still recovering from a summer of disease and near-starvation, and both of them were far too skinny and listless for their ages. They were actually curled up on Mariposa’s bed sleeping now, although soon they’d need to be woken up for dinner.

Hopefully a good harvest would change that. Mariposa had spent a good part of the day tilling the garden and preparing it for the upcoming planting season, and Daphne could hear tiny splashes coming from the bedroom. They normally didn’t waste much water this time of year, but the poor girl had been caked with dust when she walked in the front door a little while ago. Even Daphne’s inherent thriftiness couldn’t begrudge the idea of having a clean face and hands at dinner after a long, sweaty day of work.

Lemon climbed up on the bench to rest his head and paws on her lap. Apple and Ambrosia still glared at him every time he wandered too close to the wooden crates that Isaac installed in a rectangular formation on the east side of the room. They still weren’t pleased with their exuberant new roommate, but having a place to hide from the dog made him less of a threat. If only Daphne could convince Lemon to stop sitting in the centre of the room and staring at them as he wagged his tail. He was content to cuddle her for now, but she knew that he’d go back to old habits as soon as she stood up to set the table.

“They might learn to like you if you didn’t try so hard to make them part of your pack,” she said out loud. The dog whined and looked up at her.

“Well, you could at least give it a try!” It had been a long time since she’d carried on both halves of a conversation. As nice as it was to have her sons living with her again, Daphne missed the solitude of her old life. There was something to be said for quietly stewing in your own thoughts sometimes, and that was hard to do while looking after two small children and an old, forgetful woman in someone else’s house.

Daphne patted Lemon’s head absentmindedly as she stirred the beans and watched the tea pot. It should start boiling soon, and she wanted to have hot tea ready for everyone as soon as they were ready to eat. Normally she would have checked the tablet again for new messages, but whatever was powering it had slowly faded away. Now she couldn’t get it to turn on no matter what part of it she touched. The device had been tucked away in the bedroom for safekeeping until they met someone who knew what went wrong.

She heard the sound of boots stomping. Ephraim and Isaac must be finished with their chores by now. Maybe they’d even found something to add to the small pot of beans bubbling over the fire. In better days it would have fed half their number, but Daphne was grateful that they had anything at all. With autumn in full swing things were bound to get better soon.

Mariposa’s house wasn’t exactly home, but it would do for now.

…To be continued in January 2014!

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Suggestion Saturday: December 14, 2013

Here is this week’s list of blog posts and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

Snobs Kill Books via matthaig1. I’ve never understood the concept of hating something because it’s too mainstream. When I recommend a book at On the Other Hand it’s because I loved it. Genre and the level of popularity has nothing to do with it except with how I found out it existed. Some of the people who recommend books to me are into very mainstream authors. Others aren’t. Both groups are highly appreciated.

Chanukah, Feminism, and the Heroism of Yehudit. This is a really interesting story.

Ma’am, Miss, Lady… what do I say? The comment section isn’t anything to write home about, but the blog post itself is full of smart observations about the types of titles society does and does not give to women.  Sometimes the concept of micro-aggressions is taken too seriously. This is not one of them.

Choose to Make Christmas Merry via JesusNeedsNewPR. My husband and I have set similar boundaries. It’s glorious.

Why Can’t We Just Talk About Sex? I think it boils down to judgment. Talking about your sex life opens the door to other people’s opinions on who you’re sleeping with, what kinds of sex you’re having, what type of birth control you are or are not using (assuming you’re doing the sorts of things that could potentially lead to pregnancy), and a whole host of other issues that can be quite controversial in certain circles. There are some damn good reasons why sex, religion, politics, and money have traditionally been considered off-limits for polite conversation. I completely support the idea of other people feeling comfortable talking about this stuff, but this is still a fairly private topic for me.

News Is Bad For You – And Giving Up Reading It Will Make You Happier via TammySchoch. My life is much calmer and happier since I stopped following the news. I still hear the really important stuff through Twitter or conversations with friends, but I no longer have to filter through all of those alarming stories that make the world seem like a much scarier place than it actually is.

Punctuation Social Personalities. To this list I’d add:

)( Continues to drag controversial topics back into the fray in the faint hope of changing your mind.

% Loves playing devil’s advocate to keep the conversation “balanced.”

~ More interested in knowing why you believe than what you believe.

<) Would rather eat an ice-cream cone than debate.

**** Curses for the shock value of it, but would never use the same language in front of his or her grandparents.

:O Loves to gossip. Terrible at keeping secrets.

:1 Has nothing useful to say, so says nothing.

 


How to Wake Up: A Buddhist-Inspired Guide to Navigating Joy and Sorrow makes a lot of sense.

I’m not Buddhist, but their teachings about living in the moment and not becoming too attached to the way things are resonates with me. This book is written for those of us who appreciate Buddhist wisdom without necessarily believing everything it teaches. I don’t think you need to agree with everything in order to glean some good stuff out of Buddhist thought, and this is a great place to start.

What have you been reading?

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Anger Isn’t a Destination

Picture by  Swantje Hess and Jannis Pohlmann.

Picture by Swantje Hess and Jannis Pohlmann.

There are a lot of things in this world that rightfully stir up anger,  but this isn’t a post about them.

Neither is this a post about not being angry. Sometimes you need to get mad about the injustices in this world. A well-placed rant can be a great way to grab people’s attention and focus it on something that desperately needs to be changed.

By no means do I expect anyone to swallow these emotions and pretend to be happy with the way things are. That’s neither realistic nor emotionally healthy.

What concerns me is when people get stuck in a loop of venting.

Anger isn’t a destination, it’s a tool.

You don’t change the world simply by getting really mad about what’s happening in it.

“Women aren’t meant to be pastors,” someone in a position of authority told me once a very long time ago. “They’re happier working behind the scenes.”

“…but she’s not like you,” a friend said years later. “She’s just bi for the attention. You’re a real bisexual.”

Cue eye roll.

It wasn’t the first or last time I’d heard either of those sentiments. I could have easily explained why those stereotypes were so harmful (and useless) with a grouchy monologue.

I didn’t.

Sometimes anger simmers for so long it crusts over, hardening into a nearly impenetrable shell. I understand why that happens. When you spend your life accidentally running into brick walls you’re eventually going to grow wary of what might be waiting for you around the next bend.

Hating the wall doesn’t make it disappear. The bricks themselves aren’t the problem, it’s how they were cemented together and where they were installed that make them so painful. They could have just as easily been used to make a playhouse, or a deck, or to repair a sidewalk that’s all but crumbled into pieces.

This doesn’t make it ok to build more walls in the middle of the street, of course.  But they’ll come down a lot faster if you start dismantling them than if you wander around complaining about how tall they are.

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Sword of Unimaginable Annoyance

This is the perfect short film to watch if you’re starting to get annoyed with all of the Christmas music playing everywhere.

If the video doesn’t play, click here.

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After the Storm: Part Thirty-Five

Photo by Miguel Virkkunen Carvalho.

Photo by Miguel Virkkunen Carvalho.

Just tuning in? Start here.

Listen my children and you shall hear

of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.

What is it about walking in the dark alone after dark that made long-forgotten pieces of childhood bubble to the surface?

The moon was full and bright, and as much as Daphne was looking forward to going back into her warm house she savoured these moments of quiet solitude.

“I wonder where Paul was going?” she said to no one in particular. She’d only ever heard bits and pieces of his odyssey, and much of what she knew seemed nonsensical. Who had ever heard of floating on water for days and days without drowning? There was a time when she hadn’t believed that anyone would run away from invaders either, although these days that decision was beginning to make more sense.

“Oma, what’s an arse?” The small boy sitting at the table should be sleeping by now. And how on earth did he figure out how to turn the tablet on? It was slowly becoming more and more difficult to rouse even for those who’d once found it easy to use.

“It’s another word for donkey.”

“Oh. Why wouldn’t you want to sit on one?” The corner of Daphne’s mouth twitched.

“Well, would you like it if someone else sat on you?”

“Oh.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I’m not sleepy anymore.  I got scared when I woke up and you weren’t here.”

“I’m here now. Go lie down and I’ll tell you one more story.” The child was getting attached to her. Daphne wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good thing. She’d raised her family and never would have thought she’d start over almost from the beginning of it. A year ago she was thrilled to be finished cooking, cleaning, and sewing for two small people as well as herself, and yet there was a small corner of her heart that tugged every time Felix called her Oma.

This time, at least, she wouldn’t be doing it alone. They still had their actual great-grandmother, and at nearly 15 her sons were old enough to take over much of the physical labour of running a farm. If the boy and his sister stayed longterm at least the responsibility of raising them would be pooled among several adults. She didn’t regret keeping her sons, but Daphne understood now why so many people thought the job of raising them shouldn’t belong to her alone. It wasn’t that she was incapable of doing a good job. They simply thought – and she agreed – that no one should be forced to work around the clock.

Having siblings and parents around to help out mitigated the pressure in most families. Daphne’s situation had been an unique one.

Isaac and Ephraim returned half an hour later barehanded. There would be no last-minute dinner tonight. As soon as they’d taken off their coats she explained the troubling conversation she’d just had with Sean and Raquel. She still didn’t know if Mariposa was willing to help them, but from what she’d observed about the younger woman she wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was yes.

“It’s not safe here,” she said, motioning to the bedroom where the boy slept. “I hope the fervour blows over soon, but in the meantime I don’t know if we can keep Felix safe as long as we’re living in Mingus.”

“Does Peoria want us, though?” Ephraim asked. It was a a fair question.

“They’re larger but less well organized,” she replied. Due to a quirk in the geography of the land Peoria was less likely to run into water shortages. Several of the creeks in surrounding communities poured into larger bodies of water that ran through their land. The soil was no better or worse than could be found anywhere else, but the relative lack of competition over water supplies made their court system much quieter. Mariposa and the other ombudsmen spent most of their time fielding inheritance and custody cases. Even those were rare.

“I think we’re less likely to run into trouble if Mariposa is on our side,” Isaac said. “If I take the mule I can be there and back before sunrise. Stay here, and don’t answer the door for anyone but me.”

It was a long, tense night until his return. Daphne and Ephraim took turns keeping watch and packing the bare minimum of supplies while the rest of the family slept. He insisted on taking the first watch, so when Daphne woke up and replaced him she purposefully kept working until nearly sunrise. It didn’t feel right to expect her own child to protect her, and with as little physical labour as she’d been physically able to do over the past few months Daphne thought she could finally pull her own weight by allowing her son to have the lion’s share of the rest.

When the sun began peeking up over the foothills Daphne started boiling water for the morning breakfast tea. If nothing else they needed to be well hydrated for the journey ahead. Two small children and two adult who had trouble walking long distances would certain stretch this trip out over the course of two days. Perhaps even longer.

Just as the water began boiling over she heard a knock at the door. Lemon barked a friendly hello as Daphne hurried over to see who was there.

Isaac.

“I have good news,” He said as soon as she opened the door. “Mariposa wants us to stay with her, and she borrowed a mule from a neighbour so you don’t have to walk the whole way there alone.”

A dark brown creature stood in the centre of the yard flicking his ears. Daphne had never seen a content mule before, but if such a creature existed she had no doubt he’d look just like this one. After removing the water from the fire and spooning herbs and hot water into each mug she walked into the yard to greet him.

Lemon snuck out of the house before Daphne could grab him, but to her surprise the new mule leaned over and sniffed the dog. Lemon responded with a friendly lick before walking over to offer the same treatment to Daphne’s mule.

She was still incredibly wary of his drooling affection, but at least she didn’t run away quite as quickly as she had last time. Isaac cursed under his breath before grabbing her halter and leading her into the storage shed. It was better to keep them apart until the trek truly began.

 

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