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Jul. 15th, 2004 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pantryslutIn the mail today: a letter from my California grandmother. The first half of the letter discusses the disposition of a large stash of National Geographics that I am due to inherit (they want to hang onto them for another few years, but there's another batch from my uncle waiting for me in the garage). The second half is essentially one long plea for me to come visit. "If you let us know and can come soon, we'll have fresh fruit pie!"
How to put this best...I am not fond of my grandparents. They are odd at best and unpleasant at worst. I could go into details, but where to start?
These are the grandparents who gave my mother a mixer as a present to mark her achievement of a PhD in chemical engineering. (It was a nice mixer, and mom still has it, but the message was, shall we say, muddled.)
These are the grandparents who, when I visited them at age 12, placed food on my dinner plate for me, then insisted I eat everything on my plate before I could leave the table.
These are the grandparents who boil zucchini.
The grandfather who got into an argument with me about how organic vegetables are a scam, just because I refused an offer of an armful of tomatoes with the (true) excuse that I get a box of veggies every week already.
The grandmother who sternly lectured my entire family about how we were ungrateful people and working my mother to death because she was outside mowing the lawn while we were inside talking.
The grandmother who decided that my great-grandfather must have converted to Christianity on his deathbed because she couldn't imagine being in Heaven and happy without him there too. (Also the one who told my mother that Heaven is the place where all the questions you've ever had will be answered, thus turning mom into an atheist.)
The grandparents who refused to greet my other grandparents or let them into the house, on the occasion of my parents' wedding.
Yeah, fun folks. And they live in Newman, which is in the middle of nowhere in the hot, hot, baking hot Central Valley of California.
Going to visit them, especially without the cushion of other relatives' company, is not high on my priority list.
But these grandparents are so good at their brand of emotional manipulation that they can even make *me* feel a little guilty. Mostly because if I get classed as one of the ungrateful grandchildren, I fear they will go to work on my mother. I love my mother and I feel very protective of her -- not in the least because we've had a difficult relationship in the past, and I know she's struggled (so far successfully) to accept the fact that her oldest daughter is queer and poly and writes about sex for a living.
So the letter brings up a batch of mixed feelings. I should give them a call -- phone conversations tend to be pretty nontoxic, especially as compared to in-person encounters. And although I don't do sympathy (wink to G. and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wild_irises), I do do compassion, and they are aging and isolated and probably deeply lonely. And they are my grandparents. Family, to me, means an element of compulsoriness -- I'm stuck with these people, like it or not. They're my relatives.
How do you deal with difficult, distant, yet persistent relatives?
(Edit: I originally friends-locked this post, but on second thought I think it's fine for the general public.)
How to put this best...I am not fond of my grandparents. They are odd at best and unpleasant at worst. I could go into details, but where to start?
These are the grandparents who gave my mother a mixer as a present to mark her achievement of a PhD in chemical engineering. (It was a nice mixer, and mom still has it, but the message was, shall we say, muddled.)
These are the grandparents who, when I visited them at age 12, placed food on my dinner plate for me, then insisted I eat everything on my plate before I could leave the table.
These are the grandparents who boil zucchini.
The grandfather who got into an argument with me about how organic vegetables are a scam, just because I refused an offer of an armful of tomatoes with the (true) excuse that I get a box of veggies every week already.
The grandmother who sternly lectured my entire family about how we were ungrateful people and working my mother to death because she was outside mowing the lawn while we were inside talking.
The grandmother who decided that my great-grandfather must have converted to Christianity on his deathbed because she couldn't imagine being in Heaven and happy without him there too. (Also the one who told my mother that Heaven is the place where all the questions you've ever had will be answered, thus turning mom into an atheist.)
The grandparents who refused to greet my other grandparents or let them into the house, on the occasion of my parents' wedding.
Yeah, fun folks. And they live in Newman, which is in the middle of nowhere in the hot, hot, baking hot Central Valley of California.
Going to visit them, especially without the cushion of other relatives' company, is not high on my priority list.
But these grandparents are so good at their brand of emotional manipulation that they can even make *me* feel a little guilty. Mostly because if I get classed as one of the ungrateful grandchildren, I fear they will go to work on my mother. I love my mother and I feel very protective of her -- not in the least because we've had a difficult relationship in the past, and I know she's struggled (so far successfully) to accept the fact that her oldest daughter is queer and poly and writes about sex for a living.
So the letter brings up a batch of mixed feelings. I should give them a call -- phone conversations tend to be pretty nontoxic, especially as compared to in-person encounters. And although I don't do sympathy (wink to G. and
wild_irises), I do do compassion, and they are aging and isolated and probably deeply lonely. And they are my grandparents. Family, to me, means an element of compulsoriness -- I'm stuck with these people, like it or not. They're my relatives.How do you deal with difficult, distant, yet persistent relatives?
(Edit: I originally friends-locked this post, but on second thought I think it's fine for the general public.)
