Giri: family obligations

[dedalus_1947]

His father Isaac asked Esau, “Who are you?”

“I am your son”, he relied, “your firstborn, Esau”.

Isaac trembled violently and said,

“Who was it, then, that hunted game and brought it to me?

I ate it just before you came and I blessed him”.

When Esau heard Isaac’s words,

he burst out with a loud and bitter cry,

and said to his father, “Bless me too, father!”

But Isaac said, “Your brother came in deceitfully and took your blessing”.

Esau said, “Then he is rightly named Jacob!

He has deceived me these two times:

He took my birthright, and now he’s taken my blessing!”

Esau said to his father, “Do you have only one blessing?

Bless me too, my father!”

Then Esau wept aloud.

(Genesis 27: 32 – 38)

"Don't forget your giri or your loincloth."
(From the Japanese novel, Sendohbeya)

“I hate you, and the next time we pick, I’m choosing Joey!” I screamed, turning away from my red-faced brother.

“You have to pick me!” Tito shot back. “I’m your brother; you have to love me!”

I can’t recall what sport or game we were playing, or why I was so angry with my younger brother (by one year),on that occasion. We had so many silly fights over the years, especially between the ages of 8 and 18 that they all blend together. We fought over toys, comics, games, sports, cartoons, television, and movies. We were opposites in our likes, dislikes, opinions, and ideas. I was convinced for years that Tito did it on purpose. I’d say white, he’d say black; I’d look up, and he’d look down. He was so contrary that I insisted he had been adopted (ignoring the fact that he resembled more of my father’s brothers than I did). However, if I pushed my teasing, belittling, or threats too far, Tito would inform (tattle) on me to my mother and I would receive a sharp scolding. My mother’s message was always a variation on the same theme: I was the oldest sibling and Tito was my brother. Family came first, and I was morally obligated to love and care for him. This translated into “You can’t hit, ridicule, deny, ignore, or torture your younger brother”. This was always the family code of conduct that guided my behavior towards Tito and my other siblings. We finally stopped our overt fighting in high school, and matured into adolescence by simply arguing about music, hairstyles, and clothes. The only issue we continued fighting about was our one family chore – cutting the lawn. I would cut the lawn in neat, precise rows, taking pride in cutting every blade; he would run the lawn mower willy-nilly over the grass, leaving scattered, random patches of stringy blades all over the front and back of the property. It drove me crazy. Usually, I would simply re-cut his lawn. He hated that. 

 I was thinking of family obligations a few months ago in connection with Kathy’s family and my own. On the same day that we stopped in to visit Kathy’s father, and found Greg, Anne, and Peter, we also went on to celebrate my brother Eddie’s 50^th birthday (see Family Taboos). If Tito was my sibling rival and arch-nemesis, then Eddie was the ideal baby brother. He was born 11 years after me, so I saw how my mom’s pregnancy evolved, and I babysat when she was taken to the hospital for delivery. His arrival finally allowed me to be a Big Brother – a role that Tito overtly, and my sisters covertly, challenged and ignored. I was just the brother who tried bossing them around when my parents went out and left me “in charge”. Eddie was the Beloved Baby Brother, we all loved him, and he loved us back. He occupied this pre-eminent position for 7 years, until David Alex (the final baby brother) displaced him. Eddie was our curly haired, open-faced, friendly and happy baby. He was named after my mom’s baby brother Lalo (Eduardo), who was also good-natured, smart, funny and loving. His infancy saw the family move from a crowded apartment in the hilly, non-trendy side of the Silver Lake area, to a residential house in Venice, California. He would live in that house on Yale Ave. through grade school, high school, college and graduate school, until he moved out to take up residence in his own apartment in 1984. That act of personal liberation made him heroic in my eyes. Ed was the first sibling to leave the safety, comfort, and ease of the family home to live independently AND single. Gracie, Tito, and I had left home to marry. None of us had taken the initiative to leave and live on our own. Ed’s self-reliance and independence, I believe, also influenced his decision to go into business for himself. Instead of waiting for the IBM management to hire him back at a cheaper salary after laying him off, he started his own computer consulting firm in 1994. 
 

 After four years of successful financial and (restless) bachelor independence, my brother Ed hit upon an ingenious way of celebrating his 40^th birthday. By including a goodly number of his fellow Computer Systems Analyst friends, IBM associates, and clients, he could write off a hosted dinner as a business expense. However, his rigid moral compass would never permit him to lie or falsify a tax deduction without an authentic event. So, by utilizing his creative and comedic talents, he rented a hotel conference room and devised a stand-up routine about an ersatz business meeting with Mission Statement, Agenda, data analysis charts, and PowerPoint graphics. Now, in May of 2008, another hotel conference room was filled with systems engineers, computer analysts, lawyers, administrators, and educators who were also friends and relatives. We were again attending a Saturday Night Live style business meeting regarding the progress of Eddie’s consulting firm and his goals for the year. It would be a reprise of his one-man act of 10 years earlier. The dinner party was an eclectic collection of men and women, who had kept in touch over the years, so there was an easy flow of greetings, interactions, and lighthearted conversation between family and friends. I met many of these Friends of Eddie (FOE) on other occasions (two of the first students I taught at St. Bernard High School, Mike and Rod, were high school contemporaries of Eddie), and it was clear that they loved and appreciated him as much as his wife Tamsen, and our family. After making the rounds, taking photos and interacting with the guests, I settled at a table with my brother, David Alex, Julie his wife, Kathy, Prisa and Joe. Tamsen, would be joining us later, so, with the exception of Tito, and his family, the entire family was there. 
 

 After a fine meal, the business portion of the event began, and Ed started his seemingly ad-libbed performance. However, I was struck by a curious remark he made as he started introducing the assembled guests; a remark that prompted this narrative. He said “these are people I’m morally bound to love”.

 

It was a funny line, but totally inconsistent with Eddie’s actions throughout his life; he never loved out of a sense of duty or obligation, he just loved. Eddie is the best of the six children of Tony and Guera, in this regard. Since the day he was born, Ed was the consummate unconditional lover. He loved and accepted all of us. For Eddie, loving his siblings and his family was as natural as breathing. Yet he was harkening back to one of our earliest lessons as children, one that my mom reinforced almost daily - that it was our paramount obligation to love one another in a family. One thinks of obligation as an imposed duty or forced behavior that is compulsory – even if it runs counter to your private wishes or interests. Do we love our family instinctively or by obligation? Did I love Tito because he was my brother or because I had to? Is love a duty? Is love easy or tough? Tito was my toughest love; Tito, the only sibling who was not present at Eddie’s party. Tito always presented my biggest hurdle to understanding family obligations, until one particular day when we were both in college…

 

We had been away for a weekend, so the lawn was long and uneven, and it was Tito’s turn to cut it. I nagged him all day long about how it should be done.

“It’s your turn to cut the grass. Be sure to do a good job. Try to keep the lines straight, and watch those corners near the sidewalk. Don’t miss any patches”. On and on I badgered him, knowing full well that he was not listening and would avoid this chore if he could. Even as I left to visit my friends from high school, Wayne, Jim, and Greg, at their apartment in Hermosa, I threatened him.

“You better get that grass cut by the end of the day, or you’re going to get it!” I warned.

I didn’t get back until sunset, but I immediately saw that the lawn was still long and unsightly. I had a mental melt down and went nuclear. Storming through the house I found him lounging on the top bunk in our bedroom, casually reading or sketching in a notebook.

“Get down here!” I yelled up at him.

“No” he replied, calmly, not looking away from his book.

“Get down here” I said again, slowly, and even more menacingly.

“No” he repeated, looking at me over his book. “You’re going to try to hit me, and I don’t feel like running”.

I was so angry; I wanted to kill him. Then something happened. I don’t know what it was, or what made that day different from all the other times we had this same fight, over the same thing; but that day something changed. Despite my fury, or perhaps because of my shocking desire to kill him, I listened.

“Tony, I hate cutting the grass. It’s a stupid job and a pointless waste of time. You care about the lawn. You want it to look nice. I don’t care! If you won’t let me cut it my way, why don’t you cut it yourself; you do anyway. I’m not you! I’ll never be you! You love cutting the grass, so why do you force me to do it wrong?”

He wasn’t taunting or baiting me; he was actually imploring me to hear and understand him. That day, for the first time, I did. Tito wasn’t provoking me; he was simply being himself and asking me to recognize him. I was the one who wanted him to be different. I didn’t want him to just cut the lawn, I wanted him to ENJOY cutting the lawn, the way I did. It suddenly made sense; he was right! All this time, I wanted Tito to be me. I did enjoy cutting the lawn. It gave me a secret pleasure, a sense of control and symmetry when it was done precisely. So why did I punish BOTH of us by demanding that he do it MY WAY?

“You’re right” I murmured softly, still trying to make sense of this revelation.

“Huh?” Tito interjected, raising himself on the bunk to hear me better.

“I said you’re right. I never saw it like that before”.

“So, you’ll cut the grass?” Tito asked hesitantly, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah, it needs to be cut; it looks awful. I’ll do it tomorrow”.

“Great” said Art, laying down again and turning back to his book “Don’t turn off the light when you leave”.

 

I never argued with Art over the lawn again. It was my first move toward really accepting and loving him as a brother, and for who he was, not what he did. I will hearken back to that moment whenever I get angry or frustrated by some action or behavior of my siblings or mother. On that day I redefined family love as an unconditional acceptance of who they are, and not who I want them to be. This realization didn’t come easy and it took a long time. However, in the interim, this love of family needed to be stated and re-stated, practiced and reinforced by each member of the family, until we got it. Loving can be hard, but so is living in a family.

 

Later, during some particularly chaotic period in my life, I briefly flirted with the idea of joining a monastery and becoming a monk. The tranquil, reflective, and contemplative life of a monk seemed so appealing to me, that I began researching a variety of monastic orders. I got quite a shock when I found an audiotape by an abbot describing monastic life to a group of curious college students. He said that life in a monastery was a daily struggle of contesting egos; a forge where grown men are melted down and re-formed by learning compassion for, and acceptance of, their fellow brother monks. Despite their prejudices, eccentricities, and human weakness, monks had to love and discover the “God-ness” within each of their brethren. The prospect of having to love complete and utter strangers made my life at home, with my siblings and mother, much more appealing and easier to accept. I stayed happily at home, until I was ready to start a family of my own.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, tony, why don't you put a more recent picture. I never knew that girl on the last one who is very different than the one you all now have begun to know and love
G

Updated Pic

[dedalus_1947]

Okay G, you win. I added a more recent photo of the family. Although you were pretty cute in 1968.

T

Just to clarify a few things!

[el-dorado-58.livejournal.com]

While it's certainly flattering to be the in the first video entry of this prestigious blog I have to make a few things clear:

1) Art had a completely valid reason for not attending my Birthday Business Meeting. No hard feelings there at all.
2) Like necessity and invention, being self-employed was more a case of choosing the lesser of evils than bravery. There were plenty of times in the past few years where I would have gladly crawled back to IBM if they'd have me!!!
3) I appreciate those kind words but, seriously, if I was THAT altruistic, I would have joined the seminary.

That was a great story about Art and mowing the lawn! Keep up the good work.