Paul took the boys away to a cabin for a couple of nights over the holiday weekend. People have been asking what I’m doing with myself. Mostly cleaning and decluttering like a woman possessed. Yes, I know I should take some time to relax, but you know what really helps me relax? A clean house with clear surfaces. I mean, I think it would. I don’t really remember.
People are sometimes surprised to learn that we adopted Levi, but almost never that we adopted Elias. The exception is a very drunk Russian guy who talked to Paul on the beach in Florida while the boys were examining a gopher turtle, looked the boys over carefully, looked at Paul, and said, “Aaaaaaaaahhhh. You have two womens!” (Paul politely said no, he could just barely manage the one, thanks.)
People are further startled on occasion by how bluntly we refer to color in our family. I think* this is the right thing to do. If we never mentioned the fact that some of the people in our family are brown and some are pinkish, that would be weirder than talking about it. “I don’t see color” sounds nice if you don’t think about it very hard, but it’s a fact, and not talking about it doesn’t make it not matter. More than anything, I don’t want him to grow up thinking there’s something wrong with it. Which is what happens a lot of the time if nobody talks about stuff – it gets this weird, forbidden feel to it.
Elias is, as far as we know, a full-blooded native South American. So when Paul found a North American native powwow, he knew it wasn’t quite on point, but it’s a lot closer than a Swiss Anabaptist potluck dinner. Not that there’s anything wrong with those; the pies alone are a major draw.
What a time they had.
These kind folks are Gentle Dove and Blueeye. They led Elias through some of the dances.
I’ve heard a lot lately about how we’re all living in silos. We watch the news channel that reinforces our worldview, we talk to the neighbors who think like we do, and we don’t worry too much about the people who disagree with us because clearly they are wrong. Or stupid. At the very least, they are not like us, and getting to know them would be, well, a lot of work. Who needs it?
I wasn’t there to say it in person, but I would like to thank you, Gentle Dove and Blueeye and all the rest of you, for bothering. Thank you for inviting my boys to the dance.
Even the pinkish one.
*It’s parenting, so really, I have no idea. We’re just trundling along doing the best we can at any particular moment in time.
One thought on “Powwow”
So speaking of Swiss Anabaptist potluck dinners, will you come to the Gasser reunion in October if I plan another one? If there is pie??