I had a great time with my family today. I was also reminded that we aren't like other families. Actually, I'm not sure, because I don't know what other families are like. But apparently, they are more in tune to what "appropriate behavior" might look like. Ironically, knowing what behavior is appropriate is one of the subjects I teach with my students, both in religious ed class, and with my special need kids.
My 14 year old son Isaac says that today is the first anniversary of Pops (Victor Swager) going to his true home. He's right, Dad left us a year ago today. He was ready to go, but most of us weren't ready to say goodbye quite yet.
To celebrate Pops' victory over this life, we had a picnic lunch at the cemetery. Swagers are a prolific bunch, and no gathering is a small affair. All together, there were about 25 of us eating sandwiches and throwing frisbees in the Gilson Cemetery in Scotts. As we nibbled on chips, we remembered Grandpa and Grandma Swager. We told his grandkids about batches of puppies, and walking the railroad tracks home from detentions after school. They heard us talk about how Great Grandpa Swager kept Grandpa going after his son Victor died. And how Grandma Swager's faith inspired Grandpa so much, that he became a devout and dedicated Christian man. He was even Church Beadle, a term we swore he made up, but he found in some obscure writing. He loved doing that, finding old words and using them again.
Now in the South, it's quite common to see families having a picnic among their deceased loved ones, but it is not smiled upon in Scotts, Michigan, so the Township Supervisor came and broke us up. (We were already packed up, anyway, by that time.) The first words out of her mouth were "This is not appropriate behavior!" I was so proud of Luke (because my first thought wasn't a nice one) who politely asked, "It's not appropriate to visit Dad's grave to pay respect on the anniversary of his death?"
I walked away at that point. I was getting steamed. How would she know the appropriate way to pay homage to this wonderful quirky man, who knew literature inside and out, yet still peed in a coffee cup on his front porch? This sweatpants-wearing scholar took pride in the fact that he might be mistaken for homeless. He worked very hard at his humility, but he didn't have to work hard at being compassionate. You never knew who would be there for Easter, or any given day for that matter. He was known to pick up hitch-hikers and invite them to stay for a while. Sometimes he'd have some new friend over for a few weeks, while they got on their feet. He was just that kind of guy. Appropriate behavior, my eye. He'd love the fact that we opened up a canopy and folding tables and feasted on ham on rye (with mustard, of course) right there next to him and Mom, Grandma and Grandpa Swager, and Little Vic (his son, not his dog.) He'd have laughed at the image of his grandkids playing frisbee in the rain in the cemetery, just to be near him. It was great!
Then I got to spend some time with my sisters. The ones that came from my same parents. (I have a brother, too, but it was girls' night tonight. Sorry, Joe!) They were my first friends and adversaries, then friends, then my competition for the affections of such hunks as Donnie Osmond, Leif Garrett, and Shaun Cassidy. Just kidding about the Shaun Cassidy, I just wanted to see what Chris would say. She has maintained "dibs" on that guy for 35 years now. It hinges on creepy. I'm glad we've gotten back to the point of being friends.
Hanging out with my sisters, catching up on their adventures, I realized the answer to another sister's question. My Sister-friend from Rwanda asked me, "why do people who speak English all their lives take an English class in college?" It was a really good question, and I tried to explain that what we speak in our homes is not standard, proper English. We joke in our family that you need a code book to figure out what's really being talked about. In the family I was born into, you might be called a JDubs if you are trying to be in charge. You might have CHRG of the finger. You might randomly start singing "Hide your kids! Hide your wife!" and no one thinks you are strange. That's the best part of my family, all of my family. They KNOW I'm strange, and love me anyways. I know THEY are strange, and I love them for it.
And, both of my sisters have saved my life at one time or another. Only one of them knows it. Colleen did CPR on me when my heart stopped. That's not really something you can pay back. It's also not a debt I owe, it's just her loving me. I think she knows how much I love her right back. I'm truly sorry for hitting her in the head with a shoe. But it is a really good story.
I don't think Chris knows how much it meant to me that she called me the night before my breast biopsy. I don't talk about that much, but it was the most frightened I've ever been, including with my heart issues. It was the first time I realized I was going to die. Sounds dumb, right? It had never sunk in before. I could have cancer and I could die. My kids would be left without me. Luke would be alone. My parents would be devastated (since I might be their favorite). I am certainly going to die...some day. The fact that I'm living also means I'm dying. Whew! Terrifyingly deep stuff!
So, Chris calls. My head is swimming from trying to wrap around the fact that I will die at some point, and it may be from cancer that may be in my right breast, growing as I sit here, and she says she is concerned, and is going to see the doctor next week. Wait, what? "What's wrong?" I ask. "Well", she starts out. "I was eating some corn the other day, and a piece went down the wrong way, and I could feel it in the top of my lungs, and it's been there for like a week or so, but then I coughed it up, so I was relieved. Then I inhaled a piece of RICE! I had just gotten rid of the corn, but I don't know if it all came out. So I think the rice may have come out, but that spot still hurts, so I'm going to see the doctor. I think I have a "Grain" tumor."
You have to love Chris! No, I mean it. You HAVE to! She reminded me that it's okay to laugh. GRAIN tumor! Do other families comfort each other like this?
She saved my life by bringing me back to church when I really needed it. When I was lost, she took me in, and introduced me to a church family that I love and now call my own. The depth of my relationship with God is due, in part to her gentle reminder that He loves me, and that I'm a welcome member of His family.
I'm so blessed to have sisters that love me. I'm so fortunate to have an oddball family that gets me, exactly as I am.
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