This is us

Growing up I often found myself pushed into situations where I felt I had to be someone I was not.

There were so many social situations where a particular kind of clothing was important, or the way I sat made a difference, or even how I held a cup and saucer, or ate a cookie.

Public image was very very very important. Who you knew was as important as who you were.

I often found myself a little embarrassed by those people we called family.

The ones who talked with their mouths full, or sat with elbows on the table. The ones who said things like, "He don't . . ."

Our holidays moved from formal dining rooms to huge gatherings eating on our laps.

But I have begun to cherish the redneck gatherings as the last vestiges of a family transitioning from the city to the country. No matter what else we are, we are seldom traditional and there is much to be said for uniqueness.

My parents were very formal people who moved back home to a small town. Many of my siblings children are very informal people who seem to cherish red neck ways. Now I find myself almost taking notes when we all get together.

Who threw handfuls of my brother's ashes up in the air with great glee? Who drives the biggest pick up in town? How many ex-wives showed up to celebrate together?

In spite of everything, we are all in the family.