We Are Family.

I had some dealings with my birth family last week, and the proceedings weren't to my liking. When things don't go the way that I want them to I have to tamp down the urge to bring out my flamethrower, which also is a machine gun and a tactical atom bomb. It is, after all, NOT MY FAULT. Nothing ever is, and I have the evidence to prove it, unless everything works out well and then I've been known to quickly step in and take all of the credit.

I tried to behave well -- with mixed results -- and then thought it prudent to review my actions with trusted friends and servants. My sponsor, who spends a lot of time in his retirement doing nice things for people who are less fortunate then he is -- for free, I may add, which apparently is the definition of volunteering, so I'm not going to pull out my Webster's to research that word. I'm afraid that I would find a whole lot of information that I'm not interested in -- always says: "Principles before personalities, Horseface. Principles before personalities." So obviously I didn't call him. That kind of advice I can do without when I'm standing there with my lit blowtorch.

Then I thought of Shorty, my go-to guy on family matters. He doesn't analyze things or make a fuss or throw a fit, he just quietly makes himself available to be of service. That doesn't mean that he lets people take advantage of him, it's that he keeps things simple. For instance, if he's at a family gathering with a few folks that rub him the wrong way, he heads to the kitchen and peels parsnips or scours pans, in the company of scullery maids, I assume. I, on the other hand, take a position in the family room where I can keep a close eye on anyone that annoys me. That way I can spend my time judging people or trying to start arguments about matters that are unimportant to me.

I think that most people are interested in getting their own way. And I don't want that to sound sinister. There's something to be said for trying to collect a little pleasure and eject a little pain. I don't think that my family is any worse or any better than the average person. I don't want to see this. I want to start hollering like a five year old: "But he started it! He hit me first!" I don't want to cede any territory that I have already conquered, even if I feel better in the long run.

There's a good reason that we have a chapter called The Family Afterward.