Family Tree

I had someone ask me about my family last night. I was at Trevor's concert, which by the way was as awe inspiring as usual. To see these young students dedicate the time and effort and work in unity to create music is truly amazing. I give full credit to the music teacher. She is an amazing woman. I can't imagine how she does it. Her classes are twice as big as any other teacher in the school with up to 60 in each band level and 80 in choir. She has to publicly perform at least twice a year with her students. Forget the OAKs testing, have tests given with an audience of family present to witness. That creates incredible pressure to do well, stay focused, and work. I am hopeful Trevor continues with percussion. He was concentrating so hard, his cheeks were flushed. You could see them glow from the audience. He must have been holding his breath.

After the event there were cookies and lemonade. Donation jars abounded. I hope people donated. Trevor had pride in his performances, that is important for his self esteem, since he struggles with his other classes. He needs that moment to glow in the light of success occasionally. Riley, with his ease of getting good grades, is a hard act to follow. I remember my older sister in school, popular and outgoing. Everyone knew who she was. She was a hard act to follow. Its easier not to try. So, this was Trevor's moment, and I was proud of him for trying.

But to the confusion of my dads in my life. I have been blessed with two sets of parents. My mom and dad divorced when I was 1. They were not suited well as partners. Both were very temperamental when push came to shove. We had been living in Louisville, Kentucky where my dad's family, his cousins and grandparents resided. Kentucky did not suite my mom's life style. They managed an apartment complex for my dad's grand parents, while my dad also partnered in a law practice with his uncle.

My mom told me just this year, after my dad died, that he won his first case in Louisville. He defended a black woman for assaulting a police officer with a knife. This was in the middle of the civil rights movement, 1964, in Louisville, Kentucky, the south. An impressive first win. The story goes that the police officer had approached the woman from behind after dark, and not identified himself. She had been frightened, and unable to see who it was, defended herself.

My mom was a Portland, Oregon woman to her roots, old Portland, when Caitlin was in Northwest, and debutantes still wore white ball gowns and gloves. I can imagine the culture shock she had, adjusting to the hot, humid, and ugly side of the south. She came back to Oregon. My dad followed his children back to Oregon also. But the marriage was over. Mom met and married my step dad when I was three. He loved the idea of a ready made family. All his friends had children already and my sister and I were adorable at the age of three and six, frilly skirts and all. I know I was a total princess, and still am in some respects.

My Dad and my Step Dad knew each other. They had the privilege of being in that small group of men that attended Columbia Prep growing up. The school was tucked into the West Hills. It was a feeder for Jesuit. It is now an expensive housing development. They had the same friends and ran in some of the same circles. I would like to think that my dad liked my mom's second choice in husband for raising his children. The result was that there was no animosity between my parents and we all often partied together and at other friends homes.

My Dad met my Step Mom at Timberline Lodge. He was a great skier and liked those individual sports. Margaret had just come out of the peace corp after five years teaching in Morocco. She was beautiful, tall and blond. She had read a book on how to meet men. On the advice of the book she went to hang out where outdoorsy athletic men might hang out. The type of man she wanted to meet. She didn't ski. She sat by the gigantic fire at Timberline. This is the old lodge, romance oozes out of the stones. Dad never looked back once he saw her. He said she was his soul mate, even after they ended up divorced many years later.

Margaret was an artist through and through. We ate healthy, and made doll clothes sitting on her lap at the sewing machine. She loved having two ready made daughters as much as my Step Dad did when he married my mom. She would make us hand embroidered skirts and beautiful dresses. She made us dolls the same size we were at the time, so they could wear our clothes. She was a great step mom.

But both my steps wanted to have a child of their own blood also. Thus my sister and I added to our family with my little brother when I was five, and my little sister when I was 8. My brother being the only boy, was a joy to my step dad and my real dad. My dad would include my little brother in all our activities. When he came to pick up my sister and me, if my brother was available he came too. My brother is a naturally talented athlete, so my dad found it a pleasure to include him when he could. Being the only boy made him pretty special.

My little sister loved it when her big sisters came to stay. Otherwise she said she felt like a lonely only child. My step mom would have had more but my dad felt he had enough with three daughters and an ex wife. We would share our summers between the two households. It also helped that everyone lived within a mile of each other on the same windy, long, west hills road. My big sister and I fought, so to make it a more pleasant experience for everyone and give us each quality time, we would go for our stays on separate weeks. It was lovely. I got to be big sister for a change, and my little sister was a joy to play with.

All but the health food was wonderful. My mom was a great cook of traditional foods. She would take cooking classes and baking classes. My favorite was the cake decorating class which lasted months. My step mom was into healthy foods without added sugars. I loved the arts and crafts, but I would bike down the street to my mom's home to sneak food when I could. I may not have eaten my vegetables or the weird stuff at home, but the rest was great. Occasionally mom would slip in liver or tongue because she liked to cook and experiment. But with the lack of success with the family, she didn't do it often. The end result was having four parents raise us. I felt it was successful. All of us went to college and graduated. My mom would say the product of her life's work was the success of her children to be contributing members of society. None of us were failures. No one got lost in drugs or alcohol.

All my parents had different styles. My Dad was all about books and education. My mom was the disciplinarian. She ruled the roost. My step dad would be quietly disappointed, which was probably the most painful. My step mom talked to us as equals. She was great for advice and never judged. From outside the family it was confusing to keep track, but there was a lot of love going round. I wish more families of divorces could be as equitable and sharing.

My dad, though, was a man very set in his ways. After my little sister left for college. He and my step mom separated and later divorced. After all that time in our lives, we still look at our step mom as part of our parent unit. She is a dear, and has an adorable boy friend. It all adds to the family, not detracts. Life is never boring.

So, Riley is the next generation. When we were discussing family medical history with the doctors, Riley said he knew all about mom's family, it was pretty simple. My side had more of the medical issues. But daddy's family is weird and complicated. I had to laugh. Sorry about the bias. I don't think there is a "normal" family out there. There will always be secrets in the closet, or undercurrents of issues.

I just feel blessed that I had four wonderful parents and my children had 6 grandparents in the beginning. We are back to four with the death of my dad and my father-in-law. But the boys knew and remember them in their lives, so they live on in memory.