Blood, Wine, and Water

“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.”
- D.H. Lawrence

"An ounce of blood is worth more than a pound of friendship."
- Spanish proverb

This weekend my cousin Lara got married. As I have talked about earlier, family events are usually met with mixed feelings. It's always great to see my cousins and favorite aunt and uncle, but someone usually ends up crying, or has to much to drink, and a brawl ensues. My mother is from a very large family and I sometimes get the sense that much of what drives an argument happened in the distant past. The event has long gone, but the misgivings and resentment still linger. This weekend the past stayed in the past and everyone--by that I mean me--had a wonderful time.

Last June or July I wrote about my Uncle Ron and his battle with Lou Gehrig's Disease. Last time I saw the man his speech was clear, and he danced with his walker. This time around Ron couldn't dance at all--more or less he had to be hoisted from the car to his walker, and watched vigilently--and his speech is slow and trembly. In all seriousness, gravity is his biggest enemy. Still, the man does not have one ounce of self pity. He always dresses well, has that spark in his eye, and delivers his trademark one-liners--only a little slower than before. If I were in his position I would probably lock myself in my room with a big bottle of Jack Daniel's and piss and moan all day. Not Ron. His time is limited, but his spirit is unbroken.

One of the things that made this weekend some remarkable was the realization that all my mother's sisters have some form of OCD--which is where I get it from. Aunt Shelly has a thing with time--just like me--and I could see her get agitated when her husband made her two minutes late. We then had to wait 5 minutes for our car--which could have made us late for a yoga class--and we both got very tense. My mom has a thing about spills, or preventing spills I should say. Any time my drink was too full, she got very focused and quiet, and told me to be careful. Aunt Mary has to know everyone's plans for their day; most of the time, she tells them if they are going to be late if they don't get their things in order. Aunt Margie usually assesses where things could have been better in and event--in this case the wedding. I'm not sure what Aunt Eileen is OCD about, but I am reasonably sure that it's there.

So this weekend a new addition was received into the McGill Clan. My Uncle Paul once said, "The McGill family is the most exclusive organization in the world. The only way in is through birth, or marriage." And it was this celebration that marks probably one of the greatest weekends of my life. When everyone is in the same room with the trademark McGill laugh, drink in hand, and telling the same stories I have heard since I can remember, everything just feels right about the world. While I was witnessing the marriage and the surrounding celebration, I felt connected to something much greater than myself, something that I was a part of, something that I belonged to and could never be cut-off from regardless of what I do.