You can pick your nose, but you can't pick your family. Or something like that.

Nowadays the word Family has become synonymous with negatives like Divorce and Inbreeding Dysfunctional and Custody Agreements.

I can count the number of my friends with families who are still the same cohesive unit as they were in my childhood on my left foot. And while I still retain all of my toes thankyouverymuch, unfortunately that reference would still work if I stepped on a land mine and lost a few.

Please understand I have a very broad definition of family. I was raised an only child, however if you asked me growing up I would say I’ve got lots of brothers out there. People tended to raise their eyebrows at that answer and give my father a knowing look (he was in the Peace Corps in Columbia you know), but I wasn’t referring to blood relatives. Because to me, blood does not always a family make. I think Yoda said that.

(Apparently all of my parent’s friends shot out Y chromosomes because I was the only girl amongst many many boys.)

For me, I was raised alongside another family who my parents met when their first son was very young and I was not yet a zygote. This other couple, Lynn and Dave, became my Other Parents and their sons Brad and Sean became my brothers. Brad is two years older (and the father of The Cutest Baby in the Whole World) and Sean is ten days older than me (and the father of no children that we are aware of). These boys tortured me and stuck up for me and shaped me as if I were their real sister. I couldn’t have asked for a better Other Family.

Without offending my own parents, who mean a great deal to me, I have to say Lynn and Dave both influenced me greatly during the years when a person is just figuring out how to make their life their own. Lynn taught me to be my own person, to have pride in myself, to do things my own way and at my own pace. Dave showed me a more conservative side of the world, taught me that there is a proper way to do things, and instilled in me a healthy concept of the word respect. I saw from a very early age that they were completely different people from my own parents and I was so lucky to have them.

All of our family events/holidays/etc. involved Lynn and Dave and the kids. We lived far enough away from each other that I wasn’t in school with the boys or involved in their daily lives; yet through the years our relationships have grown stronger than most we had with the kids we went to school with for years. I have fond memories of them reading my diaries aloud at Family Events or undressing my Barbies and posing them provocatively; typical boy behavior that would induce a tantrum in me then but would receive retribution from me now.

(Not that I still write in diaries or play with Barbies. That would just be weird.)

(Off topic: Have you seen some of the outfits Barbie comes in now? Might as well be called Slut Barbie or Whore Barbie.)

These Family Events were occasions of great frivolity and lots of alcohol consumption. The conversations ranged from politics to pop art to The Simpsons. There were always stories about cultural experiences, travel excursions, and personal history. It’s sad, but I’m willing to bet I learned more about history and culture through those Family Events than I ever learned in school. And as with any family, there were opinions.

Boy, were there opinions.

Oh, and stubbornness. That, too.

(Not always a good mix. Especially with alcohol.)

But despite the arguments and the loud voices all trying to talk over each other and the occasional hurt pride that caused periodic silences we were a family.

In fact, it is those arguments/loud voices/silences that taught me a great deal about how to communicate with people – both the positive and negative ways. I learned how to read people’s emotions and personalities, how to discuss heated topics without imposing my opinion on someone (or how to impose, depending on the situation), and most importantly how to diplomatically accede to another even when I’m not anywhere near their ballpark.

As we’ve gotten older and us kids have grown up and started families/lives of our own these Family Events have become fewer and father in between as well as smaller in number. Stories are told repeatedly to ensure everyone is up-to-date on everyone else. Family Events are as much about catching up with each other’s present and future as they were about learning about the past. The absentees are sorely missed as everyone’s personality brought something different to the table.

Tonight as I sat at the table with my folks and Lynn, I couldn’t help but miss the days with no elbow room and subtly exchanging place cards so that I was situated near people I preferred. (Don’t be judgy, you totally did that too.) The table has gotten quieter and the conversation is much easier to follow but the large family feel has gone.

But the eccentric topics have remained fantastically amazing, as always.

We discussed the inevitable book that Sean, Brad and I will write one day about our highly dysfunctional and yet thoroughly amazing family dynamic. We will each bring a perspective to the stories, mine probably focusing on the psychology of our family and what it has cost us in therapy bills how it has shaped us as people. There will be laughter and tears and probably defamation lawsuits and hopefully a Pulitzer Prize.

We also discussed the movie rights and who would play each of us. Needless to say it’s quite the unique group of actors all of whom have probably never acted together in a screenplay ever. Which when you think about it might make it one of the most uniquely interesting flicks…well…ever.

(And I fully expect that you, my faithful 7 readers, to be the first in line at my book signing.)

(Because if you aren’t, I’m liable to cry at the table surrounded by piles of my books and no one who cares. Or cares enough to buy it in hardcover anyhow.)

PS. This book writing thing has been a long-standing joke in our family, but I can’t help but wonder if it won’t be Alex, the first grandchild of the group, who actually writes the damn thing. He is a Boy Genius, after all. And he’s inheriting a second-generation dysfunctional family who will no doubt fill the book with many titillating stories.

(I just used titillating for the first time ever. Ever since I learned that word I’ve always thought it was too dirty to use in public. I’d rather say Fuck than titillating. True story.)