One day we will meet and ride on a bike,"A benefit of being born into a family," someone has said, "is that you get a chance to meet people you'd otherwise never have chosen to associate with."
Eat at the same table, and take a long hike—
My relatives and I,
In the sweet by-and-by—
Even those I met once and didn't much like.
That may be a bit cynical, but most of us do have some one or more relatives we don't like or at least don't care to see. And some traumatically abused people have good reason to abhor their parents and would rather not have been born, or at least not to those particular parents. But while many of us might not have chosen our parents, we nevertheless love them and basically have no regrets about having been born to them.
Yet we do have one or a few relatives we would never have chosen to associate with. Would we be comfortable believing, as some people dogmatically do, that we'll be reunited with them "in heaven"?
Well, I don't believe I would take a long hike with someone I didn't much like. Probably won't eat with them either, unless it's a chance encounter.
ReplyDeleteWell, remember, the limerick is ironic, written from the point of view of a dogmatic believer who would expect to have to do those things, given his belief in a reunion of all of his relatives in the hereafter. As the title says, it's his lament for what his dogmatic belief seems to commit him to.
ReplyDeleteHmmm. I think that if a reunion with ALL the relatives in the Great By-and-By is in the cards, I'll just have to stay put. I really like the delicious irony in that limerick, though.
ReplyDeleteDelicious, Serena, not somewhat bitter? <chortle>
ReplyDeleteOn Saturday, November 25, 2006 9:47:00 AM, Steve G said...
ReplyDeleteI don't ponder over the relatives I have. On occasion I think how life would be if I had a few that I don't have.
And at 3:48:00 PM, Moristotle replied...
Ha! Nice take. Reminds me of something my wife said when she and I discussed the dogmatic belief that one will be reunited with one's relatives in heaven. "We're all related." That is, if you go far enough back, you come to ancestors pretty much (if not literally) common to all of us. So, what I'm saying is that you do have those relatives who might have made life different for you if they'd just acted like it!
But I know what you mean. It sounds to me as though you have the kernal of a crackerjack story idea. In fact, we watched a movie last night this sort of reminds me of. "Rumor Has It," which takes off from the movie "The Graduate," positing that the Jennifer Aniston character might be the daughter of her mother by the Kevin Costner character. In "The Graduate," Katherine Ross played the mother and Dustin Hoffman the Kevin Costner character. But in that movie these two characters ran off totherer. In "Rumor Has It," there's a book titled The Graduate on which the original film was based, except that in the book Katherine and Dustin didn't run off together....
Uh, it's kind of complicated, but mainly I don't want to spoil the movie for anybody <grin>.
Interesting posts you have going on here, Mori.
ReplyDeleteI'm inclined to say that most of my family may take hike - without me. But there's so much more to it than that, I believe.
My (step)father's last request of me was to be "sealed" to the family in the Mormon temple so we can be together for all eternity. I didn't take it well. First, I wanted nothing to do with the Mormons. Secondly, although in time I grew to love my dad very much, it wasn't until after I was an adult. The memories of the beatings and abuse I endured as a child left their mark. I told him we hadn't gotten along that well in life, I sure as hell didn't want to live with him or my family for all eternity. Those were my last words to him. I wish they hadn't been, but I didn't know he would be dead in two weeks. They'd given him a year to live. His last words to me, written in a letter given to me after his death, was that he was disappointed in me.
Although I still don't think I would want to spend eternity with my parents (and certainly NOT with two of my sisters), I do see things differently now. Having been to the other side, I don't know how anything but love, understanding, and forgiveness could dwell there. I've become a believer that there's a reason for everything, and I hope to feel differently about my life experiences when those reasons are revealed.
P.S. There's no need to send me an e-mail to notify me that you've replied to my reply. Seriously - I'll check back, okay?
Thanks, Southern, for promising to check back without being notified that there's a reply. (Wouldn't it be nice, though, if Blogger could notify participating commenters as well as the blog owner? Next time you're in contact with the blogger people—Bloggerato?—maybe you'd mention that? Maybe include with the comment box an option to be notified? Thanks.)
ReplyDeleteYou mention Mormons...Well, that was right on target, for my post was prompted by a conversation I had had the previous day with a Mormon who is getting married soon in a Mormon temple, and he and his bride will be exercising the "sealing" option rather than the mere "until death do us part" option.
He had also been explaining to me and my wife the technicalities of the sealing protocol, which is apparently what the Mormons' intense interest in genealogy is all about. That is, they go back as far into the past as possible, "sealing" every relative they can find for reunion in the hereafter. While it struck us as absurd, this young man clearly believes it utterly. I guess there's no harm in it (except that it does remind me of a line from the film, "An Unfinished Life," in which Einer, the Robert Redford character, tells his granddaughter that everyone is welcome to visit the farm, except for people coming to try to sell "their angle on God").
The young Mormon, being a very intelligent person (a good deal more intelligent than I, I suspect), is aware of criticism of Mormon dogma, and he seems to have a sort of pragmatic view of his faith as a backup: it makes him feel good and benefits him in all sorts of ways. I may ask him for examples sometime, though probably not at his wedding reception next Saturday. My wife and I won't be at the wedding, of course—we haven't been recommended for admittance to the temple. He showed us his "recommend card," recently issued as the result of his successfully passing an interview featuring various intrusive questions. But even his sister won't be at the wedding; her "recommend," if she ever had one, has expired and she hasn't done the interview to have it renewed.
It's pretty fabulous.
Wouldn't it be nice, though, if Blogger could notify participating commenters as well as the blog owner?
ReplyDeleteGod forbid. I get enough mail as it is. Blogging is not a priority in my life. I get to it when I get to it, and having a constant reminder in my mailbox that I need to get it taken care of is nothing but a royal pain in the patootie to me (no offense).
Bloggeratto is open to everyone, and Avatar is a very nice guy. Go ask him. Maybe he can fix you up.
I think the whole sealing process is unnecessary. Our karma with other people pretty much insures that we will be with them again.
While it struck us as absurd, this young man clearly believes it utterly.
Ignorance is bliss - and it will be interesting to see if they are still married in five years.
Southern, your "God forbid" serves to emphasize that Blogger ought to offer notification as an option—that is, not as a default. Then, if you really, really do want to know when additional comments are made to a particular thread of comments, you could be notified when they are. I'll mention this to Bloggerato and/or Avatar.
ReplyDeleteWhile I don't know that karma operates or not (that is, I'm agnostic regarding it), the concept does appeal to me more than the Mormon practice of sealing.
But, as you know, I am currently trying to discipline myself to believe only what I can more or less know, so I don't plan to invest any hope in there being karma (or not being).
So far, I must say, I'm pleased with this discipline, which has bestowed on me a greater sense of calm and clarity than I have usually known.