The Uncles, The Duchess, and Character

L to R: Uncle Lenny, Uncle Marc, Dad...

My family will note 2 yahrzeits this week: my Uncle Marc and my Uncle Lenny. Both men were married to my dad's sisters. If Grandpa Moishe was my dad's best friend, his brothers-in -law were his partners in crime. The three of them could not be left unsupervised for a moment. If they were not improvising new and unusual ways to make my grandmother crazy, they were asleep on the couch...didn't matter which couch, or whose couch, it just needed to be an available couch. They played poker at SFC meetings, but mostly they laughed a lot. Uncle Marc, the oldest,married to dad's older sister Ruth, was an accountant who loved opera and bridge; then came Dad, a manufacturing VP, who loved baseball and building stuff; and then Uncle Lenny, the youngest, married to dad's younger sister Cynthia, a furniture salesman who made new best friends every day with his endless supply of really bad jokes, and made the meanest, bestest malteds this side of paradise. Three very different guys who found a common bond in family.

...and how they saw themselves

We all benefitted from that...especially when French Toast was involved. 

Uncle Marc left us quite unexpectedly back in 1983 when he passed away after seemingly minor surgery. I think we were all in shock. Uncle Lenny, who battled a variety of issues over the years, none of which dimmed his light bulb humor even at Sloan Kettering, left the building shortly after Ziggy. Somehow, I think Ziggy was there to meet him with a whole new slew of bad jokes. 

Dad was the last man standing for a few years and that weighed on him. He missed his buddies. A lot. When he was getting ready to leave, Dad kept telling me Uncle Lenny was in the room and he was taking him to Aunt Ruthie's where Uncle Marc was waiting, the martinis were cold and there were cold cuts and fresh rye bread. And pickles. Lots of pickles. I asked him if there was pastrami and he assumed me there was, and tongue, too. I think my dad was reaching out to my uncles because these were the guys who supported each other and watched each other's backs. 

So all this uncle stuff got me to thinking. My big brother, although he lives half-a-continent away, is a terrific uncle to my sons, and a pretty special gruncle to Little Miss who thinks he's very funny. And Uncle Miiiiiiisssssshhhhhha is adored by both Little Miss and Young Sir. The senior son and Mrs. Senior Son do a good job of coming in regularly so they are part and parcel of the kids' existence. That makes my heart sing. 

So what's this all about?

It's about relationships. 

I attended a group thing about women, aging, and friendship. It was an illuminating experience and I am glad I went. Being a non-Minnesotan, I have anxiety about living here in the Land of PassiveAggressive. I find saying things like, "Oh, that's so interesting on you!" to be anathema. I've come to the conclusion that I am pretty much a formed entity and the odds of my suddenly being acceptable to the native Minnesotan population is slim to none...and what's more I'm not particularly worried about any of it. Sitting around with a bunch of women on a Sunday morning went a long way in reassuring me that I'm okay with me, and I'm not in need of validation. I'll keep the family I've woven together, the one made up of immediate family, cousins, friends, in-laws, and dearest out-of-towners. These are the people I want around me, and I'm pretty sure they want me around them, and I'm okay with that. We support each other. Like we're supposed to.

But I still haven't told you what this is really about.

Sigh.

It's about Meghan, the Duchess of Sussex and, I imagine, soon to be known as Mrs. Windsor. This is about watching a woman who is seemingly pretty strong get knocked about for reasons so disgusting it's hard to even write about them. And oddly enough, it's about the Queen who is really a smart, savvy, and admirable woman. 

Let me explain.

I never watch SUITS. I didn't know who Meghan Markle was...except I found out her first husband was Jewish, not that it mattered one whit. This is about her marriage to a kid whose mother was just so much public fodder and died as a result. Princess Diana's death (and I was a huge fan of hers for a whole lotta reasons) was devastating to her children. No kid, and I do mean NO KID survives the death of a parent without issues. And in the case of William and Harry, their mother was the most famous woman in the world and was meat for the tabloids. It is no wonder that Harry, the younger of the two, picked an especially strong, independent woman for his wife. He knows she will never be queen. He didn't care that her mom is black and her dad white. He fell in love and has every right to expect to be able to establish a loving home with his wife and children. Being a prince has nothing whatsoever to do with that. 

What no one really expected was the savaging of the Duchess of Sussex by the press. A simple comparison of actions and headlines demonstrate the horrid, racist, slanted, biased reporting that has dogged her. I don't think anyone thought that in this day and age so-called journalists and their editors would stoop to that sub-basement level. 

Of course, she's not all right. Would you be?

There are real problems happening right now all around us. As I sit here typing, Iran is rightfully under siege by their own people after admitting they shot down a Ukrainian passenge plane. Feckless Leader is selling the services of our troops to a variety of governments because "they pay us." We have become the new Hessians. 

They pay us.

Is that what we have become? Are we for hire? What happened to bringing troops home, and fake wars and all that other stuff? And if we are being hired out, where's the money going? Into whose pockets?

There are no relationships in the West Wing any more. There is no team pulling together for the sake of the nation. There are no under-secretaries or admins or anyone else in there battling to pull the nation back from the brink of the abyss. When I think of the simplistic bonds between my grandfather, my dad, and my uncles, I remember that from them I learned loyalty and the importance of a unified familial front. When I look at Duke and Duchess of Sussex, I see a family circling the wagons to figure out how best to salvage an untenable situation. Doesn't matter what the motivation is....they are behaving like any family experiencing an external threat. 

The only family not doing that is the one We, the People of the Unites States are supposed to be. The continual fracturing of our national identity will prove to be our undoing. We will lose our shared identity, our shared values, and our shared history. I know there are deep divides on a variety of issues, but it''s precisely those differences that create America. No, it's not perfect, and it's not all kumbaya moments of harmony. But a shared history is crucial to the character of a nation.

Funny, these days that's what we are missing most. Character.

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Friendships are fluid; they change with time and circumstance.

The trick is being able to float along for the ride.