Parents From Outer Space!

For the longest time I thought all families were like mine.  Didn't every family have at least three rooms in the house with floor to ceiling bookshelves housing so many books that it was never really necessary to visit the library?  My first clue that this wasn't so was when I went to play at friends' houses and a quick look around revealed nothing more than the current copy of TV Guide for reading material.

There wasn't any yelling or screaming in my family and we positively, absolutely were forbidden to say "shut up" to each other.  I'm sure we had our disagreements but for the life of me, I can't recall any major ones.  I never witnessed a fight between my parents; a heated discussion perhaps, but no fighting or raised voices.  Since my siblings were so much older than I, the only one I recall getting into trouble occasionally was me and that didn't happen very often.  Strict discipline wasn't in force a lot.  One stern look from either parent could reduce me to tears because it was devastating to disappoint them. 

I don't recall any rebellion or teenaged "angst" between my older siblings and my parents.  I never had any problem with them either.  My folks were very open to granting permission to do various things within reason if they were given all the information about what it was we wanted to do.  Case in point:  My steady boyfriend (aka my husband now) graduated from high school a year before I did.  He was in his first year of college during my senior year of high school.  One of the highlights of being a senior at my school was the annual trip in the fall to Washington, D.C.  I, however, didn't want to go to D.C.  I wanted to go to Findlay, Ohio to visit my beau.  I presented this brilliant idea to my parents and they allowed me to go.  I'm fairly certain their decision had a lot to do with the fact that even at our young, tender ages, our eventual marriage was a pretty sure thing.

It seemed to be a given that since they had brought us all up to have good heads on our shoulders, then of course we wouldn't do anything foolish or dangerous or of a delinquent nature.  In looking back, I see now that this was exhibiting extreme confidence in their upbringing of us to not think otherwise.  My mother, particularly, was very much a believer in giving us a great deal of "rope" to move about in our little worlds.  She often said something to the effect that if you want to keep a person close to you, you must let them go.  What a wise woman.  This was so true.  As we got older, all of us loved to return to our parent's home.  I believe we all experienced a sensation of rejuvenation after spending time with them.  A visit with them grounded us and gave us perspective if were having some kind of problem.

Through friends' and acquaintances' experiences and now after reading so many journals, I'm overwhelmed at the number of how many people have had troubling or terrible relationships with parents, siblings, spouses, children, extended family members and the list goes on.  I am stunned.  This is comletely foreign to me and I simply cannot imagine the misery generated within a family that so many people have suffered through.  I cannot relate.  I always suspected that I have lived my life in a golden state of "under glass".  Now I know this to be so.  Life is hard enough.  The world is a harsh, cruel place at times.  One's family is supposed to be a safe place, a haven where we know all will be well.  To think it is any other way is inconceivable to me.  Yet, it is not this way for many, many people.  I always knew my family was special but never realized how much so until I ventured past my front door.  It's become increasingly important to me to write these thoughts and memories down while my sieve-like brain still remembers them. 

I often used to joke with my friends and tell them I thought my parents were from another planet.  They were so different from other peoples' parents.  In retrospect, I think a small portion of my brain thought this actually wasn't too far from the truth.  I wonder.