I sit awkwardly as they stare each other down. I can tell my cousins sense it too but we stay quiet. The tension between their words is like lightning. He snaps at her statements like a cobra, ensuring no unjustifiable statement escapes her lips. This is an average conversation over lunch between my grandmother and my dad.
Over this holy U.E.A. weekend I have been to many lunches with many people. I enjoy going to all of them if not for the conversation then at least for the food, but mostly conversation. Anyway, I went to three lunches. One with Grandma, one with Grandpa, and the last one with the subject of next week's blog.
Grandma is sitting at the opposite side of the table with two of my cousins from my dad's side of the family; Brandon and Brian Ross. The Rosses are my dad's youngest sister's family. I'm not close with a lot of my cousins on my mom's side but I'm well acquainted with the Rosses' and the Joneses' children (that sentence was tough to write.) Now I guess it's good to mention that both of my grandparents from my mom's side have passed away. My Grandma Genny died long before I was born because of breast cancer, and my Grandpa Joe died just recently because of natural causes. It seems weird that the calm grandparents I have (I still consider them my grandparents) were both distant and I never felt like I really knew them. Sorry, just reflecting.
Anyway, my dad and I are sitting opposite Grandma, Brandon, and Brian. Brandon's only a year younger than me and only a bit shorter and Brian's 9 with a good foot or two shorter. I wasn't really listening to a majority of my elders' arguments through the lunch so instead I watched as Brian and Brandon slowly began to piss each other off. After we got our food Brian started bouncing energetically on the booth. Brandon quickly gripped his brother's (Oh, and they're brothers) arm and told him to stop. Brian stopped abruptly as did the argument. Grandma gave a quick look at the two on her side of the booth and returned to the presidential debate. About a fourth of the way through my sandwich Brian started bouncing again and this time Brandon came at him with a fist cocked. Brian whimpered and became still. After the sandwich was gone Brandon, for whatever reason, wrapped his arm loosely around Brian's neck and pulled him in for a noogie. I could tell that even though they might fight each other profusely and be constant sources of pain for one another, they were still brothers, and they still loved each other. Then, after a quick argument over gum which ended in Grandma getting sick of hearing it and giving Brian some of her gum, we said our goodbyes.
Just like the day previous, my father and I headed, early in the morning, to the dwelling place of another one of my grandparents. Grandpa greeted us kindly with his large glasses and hat. We sat in his house long enough for my dad to show Grandpa some embarrassing footage of my school choir performance. I said nothing and scanned through the pages of my magazine. We headed for Village Inn afterward. Unlike my dad and my Grandma in their titan vs. god verbal warfare, my dad and my Grandpa clash more like ancient philosophers. I'm sure at one point they stood at opposite ends of the battlefield, their warriors scattered across the battlefield and all resources exhausted. Then they slowly walked to the center of the battlefield and established that this kind of fighting would kill them both in the end. So now, they sit with their questions about greater things, and I sit quietly trying to consider what they were saying. My dad says this and then they ponder, beard stroking and sky gazing, until Grandpa has something to add, contradict, or concur with the statement. Normally I try to stay silent in this situation because both my Grandpa and dad would poke and prod my statement, even though I know they like me adding to the conversation, until I make a tactical retreat. My Grandpa tries his best to include me in the conversation and he asks me a question. I wasn't quite sure how to answer because he has a way with making his questions have hundreds of answers (like a philosopher!) I sat confused for an awkward amount of time before my dad shielded me from the question's radiation with a legitimate response. I relaxed, thankful that my dad had saved me from its vicious mind blending powers, but then my dad said something I'll never forget.
"You know _____ is gonna turn out like Steve Jobs." he said with a smile. My eyes opened wide in surprise. "Steve Jobs knew how to think different, _____ does too." I looked at him with what must have been astonishment and he looked back with a proud smile. I returned my gaze to the shiny table and thought about what he had just said. Now if you aren't into watching TV then I should tell you that Steve Jobs was the co-founder of Apple. He was considered a genius and the motto of his company was "Think Different" (or something like that.) I was surprised but also extremely happy with what he had said.
Recently I have been thinking about things like individuality (see my last blog) and how different my thinking style is from everyone else. I can tell it's different because I can instantly ruin a conversation with my over-analysis or my jokes that no one pays enough attention to to follow. So, I think I was pleasantly surprised by my dad's comment not because he complimented me, but because he verified my belief that I'm different from everyone else. I've always wondered how others see things and whether I'm some super freak in the way I look at things. I wonder why a goose follows his fellow geese's path or why the world is round. I wonder if all things are composed by people's thoughts and all we need to do is think hard enough and we'll be right. I think about these things until my head hurts. I've never been satisfied by not knowing. I'd like to know whether there's a Jesus, and if so, what Jesus's master plan for everybody is. So, even though these questions may never be answered, at least I know that my dad can understand and accept the way I view things. In my strange opinion, that's an answer in and of itself.
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