We went over to the suite of rooms my family were staying in. The plan was to have a little get together to welcome my brother and his girlfriend Michelle. When we arrived we found Dorothy at the living room table, my mother in the kitchen, and Jack, Ali and Rory at the dining room table talking. The moment we walked in the door, my son ran out onto the balcony. I noted his whereabouts, and sat down at the table with my step-father, sister and her boyfriend. They were talking about a book that Rory is reading, and the subject of absolute truth came up again, this has been a theme on this trip so far.
Rory, my sister’s boyfriend, described his brother-in-law’s evangelical beliefs and the impact is appears to have on his children, and his life in general. I noted how odd is sounded that this sort of born again Christian will remove them self from society completely, and this guy is no exception. He home schooled his kids, so they didn’t have to participate in the dialog of our mosaic. They separate themselves from the visceral world by practicing a religion which takes the rewritten and revised Bible literally, and isolate themselves in their very small communities where they judge the world outside. According to Rory, this man believes he is absolutely right, because the bible he reads and worships is absolutely right. Nothing in his intellectual, or spiritual life is relative. It is an absolute truth.
Rory and I are clearly united in the choir of relativity, and we compared examples of how his belief system is entirely relative. It is, at its root, relative to the Bible. That Bible is relative to all the other Bibles. I mused about the Jesus seminar held every year where political leaders like Pat Buchannan and Pat Robertson get together and rewrite this book and create subcommittees to produce larger text versions for the elderly, and illustrated versions for home schooled kids. Everything is relative apart from the statement that everything is relative. There is no such thing as absolute truth. That may be the only absolute which liberals like Rory and I can agree on. Still I really wished this man was here to present his own ideas. I enjoy a good exercise in futility. It’s always best to know your enemy as intimately as you possibly can.
I noticed that my son was standing in the doorway between the balcony and the main room peeking in at us. Excusing myself, I went over to the door and knelt down beside my son and asked him if he might like to join us.
“No thank you.” He said and then turned and went back out onto the balcony.
I followed him outside, and asked what was up. “I don’t like that lady.” He said reluctantly.
“Which lady honey?”
“Dorothy.”
Poor Dorothy, she’s 94 years old, can’t hear anything, does crossword puzzles all day, travels like a crazy-person, and is amazingly sharp, sensitive, and present for a women approaching a hundred years old like a nascar champion (my god, did I really just use nascar as a visual example in my journal? this modern world is wearing away at me. I can feel it.) But I can understand how someone as wonderful as Dorothy may appear slightly disconcerting to a little boy of five and seven eighths. So I smiled warmly as my son and said “Love, Dorothy is your great grand mother and she loves you. The least we can do is smile at her and say hello, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she keeps looking at me.”
“She’s looking at you because she loves you and would like to get to know you love. She’s ok. Trust me?”
“Ok.”
We went back toward the door, and I walked back inside. My brother and his girlfriend had arrived and I joined them, making a note that my son paused in the doorway, and did not come into the room. After a few seconds I realized that the conversation had turned from Absolutism and spirituality as it relates to raising children and the modern world to how into the remake of Battlestar Galactica they are. My brother started giving away spoilers and smiling in his sadistic way at knowing something no one else knows, and I groaned. I looked at my son, still peeking at us from the doorway. I looked over at Dorothy who was peeking back at my son, waving at him, eagerly trying to get his attention. I thought it was about time to go when the conversation settled, as usual, onto beer an wine. Rory spoke up about the exotic beers he loves, and my brother jumped up about the bargains you can find if you buy your alcohol in bulk at cost-co.
I stood up and smiled at everyone, collected my son and we went down to the beach.
2 Comments
Nice your brother just arrived yesterday to spend sometime with you the next couple of days. : )
I remember being intimidated by elders. I guess I still am, but it’s because I respect them so much, not because I am scared of how different they are. I hope Dorothy can break the ice with F.
btw, my son also has a Great-Grandmother named Dorothy to whom he has a hard time relating. (though she is nearly 20 yrs younger than your Dorothy)