Estrangement

 Not long ago, I read an article that claims up to 1/3 of American adults are estranged from at least one member of their family. I was kind of taken aback by that high number, though I guess I shouldn't have been.

Among my inner circle, estrangement is an unknown thing. Sure -- my friends all have had and have plenty of tensosity with parents, siblings, and adult kids, but no estrangements. For SOME of my friends, marrying into the family gives the new in law an almost Mafia-like status -- shared intimate information goes to them, even over long time friendships.

The article went on to state that often the estrangements are a good thing -- better to cut off a toxic relative and go live your life than try to maintain ties that continually disappoint and hurt you.

My Ds are close but also very different. They process life events differently. But as long as I live, at least, they will NOT be estranged -- at least if they wish to benefit from Wifey and my comedic generosity. Yesterday, during a Zoom meeting with our personal CPA Mark, he was reminded about nearly 7 figures worth of mortgages we hold on the Ds' houses, at statutorily minimal rates. The mortgages will likely be forgiven rather than repaid, if all goes to plan. Later, on a post Zoom call, Mark told me NONE of his clients in our financial status (he has plenty machers where money is essentially a non-issue) do what Wifey and I have done. And the one thing that shuts off that spigot is if the Ds estrange. Better never happen.

There's a sadness, of course. Wifey and I consider our grandsons sacred -- it is inconceivable, as Vizzini said in "The Princess Bride," that we would ever lose touch with them. And yet I've seen it happen.

Years ago, a close friend completely cut off her father, following the death of her mother. I never understood, fully, until years later when I got to have a long talk with another family member, and learned that the father, who to us seemed a kindly, old Jewish retiree was in reality a bitter and angry man who took out his disappointments about his lack of success in life on his family. After his wife died, his daughter saw no point in continuing to have any contact. He lived probably 15 years with zero contact, and her sons and husband learned years after the fact that he had died out of state. Hey -- it was her call.

Recently someone reminded me of a long estrangement of grandparents and now adult grandkids. I felt bad, and briefly thought about pulling a "Then Came Bronson" move. That was a show in the early 70s where Bronson would ride into town on his Harley, fix whatever problem a town was having, and then ride off into the sunset. Maybe I could contact the grandkids, now fully adult, though I haven't spoke to them in years, and try to get them to at least contact their grandparents -- both of whom are in the deep sunset of their lives.

I reflected on this last night, over a rare solo cocktail. I always say I only drink with friends, but last night Wifey was out and about somewhere on our property, it was a gorgeous evening, and my front porch with Sonos playing Grateful Dead beckoned. So I squeeze a couple of Mandarins into a glass with a big cube, filled it with Ketel, and grabbed the elderly Spaniel.

It was exquisite. I listened carefully to Robert Hunter's sage lyrics on "Box of Rain," his reflection on the brevity of life, conceived as he was traveling to a nursing home for his final goodbye to his dying father. Turns out -- Hunter is a great, great grandson of classic Scottish poet Robert Burns -- hmmm-- genetics CAN work, it turns out.

The final lyric is amazing, about life: "Such a long, long time to be gone, and a short time to be there." And I made up my mind -- I ain't no Bronson -- best to keep my beak out of most streams.

It also occurred to me that it was a great thing I went to law school instead of getting a PhD in English, my alternative choice. I would have ended up far poorer, as mentor Judy Davidoff warned, but worse: I would have truly been insufferable: spouting off my supposed wisdom to everyone, thinking my education made me the smartest guy in the room and making up for my lack of material success with ego boosting, to me, intellect. I shudder to think...

This am, as Wifey stirred at sunrise, I asked her advice, but not really. I gave her a script to recite after I shared my thoughts of this family incursion: "No, David, you have more than enough on your plate -- keep the hell out of the affairs of those you last spoke with over a decade past."

She performed well, and even added, for free, some further thoughts: how would I react if some cousin contacted me and told me I "Should" reach out to another cousin...just because they were blood and needed comfort. Yeah -- wouldn't happen. Won't happen here.

So peace be upon the estranged -- far and near. All I can do, for as long as I can, is keep it from happening 'round here.