What Family’s For

As we all sink our teeth into the Chicagoesque spectacle that has become of the Karen Read trial, there are two things I can’t shake—1) the song “Cell Block Tango” and 2) the phrase “that’s what family’s for.” Let me explain.

In a V shaped formation meeting at a corner behind the defense, the families of Karen Read and John O’Keefe have come to court each day, listening to hours upon hours of testimony, objections, and interjections about speaking up and air conditioning from “Auntie Bev” as the judge has come to be known. All I can think when I see these relatives in attendance is that I would do the same.

A brother is going through chemo, we offer to take the kids out for ice cream. An aunt is unable to cook, we make a casserole. A good friend needs a ride to her colonoscopy, we take her and feed her afterward. A sister is accused of murder, we figure out how to find the best lawyer. We all would like to think that none of us would fall into that latter category. But, humans screw up, that’s a given. In our tribes, we love our people for who they are, scary parts and all, and with that love oftentimes comes support that must be given under the most difficult of circumstances. In fact, it is under those conditions that I believe love passes its most important test. Does that mean we excuse? No. We just show up. Love is not always patient and kind, it’s complicated and trying.

My own family has had a lot of strife over the years shaking the roots of our tree. Limbs have dropped, splits have formed in the rings, sap has been spilled. Family secrets, whispered through the generations, have challenged us to cling to the roots and all they have to offer. However battered our tree may be, it still stands with weathered bark and directs nutrients and strength wherever it is most needed. When we say “we’re here for whatever you need”, we mean it. Although that may sound like a blind allegiance, it is more a survival mechanism because we humans need our tribes and always have. It’s how we are here today.

I stepped on the scale yesterday and saw a number that made me do a cartoonish double take. Of course I know that at least 1/4 of that weight can be found in my chest, I also know the other 3/4 is below my chest and I can’t see that area too well unless I do the dreaded naked in the mirror challenge coming soon as the next viral TikTok thing. I’ve gotten older, my metabolism has taken a sabbatical, I am lazy (with exercising, not life), and I also tend to obsess myself into a downward spiral when I get on the scale. So, I avoid it. But, avoidance is really just a compulsive behavior turned inside out and decidedly not the answer as my pants have concurred. The one thing that got me over the awful feeling of needing to lose weight and needing to confront it now rather than later was the realization that I am loved. I have people who would show up for me if I received an award or were thrown in jail. Weight gain? Big whoop. If you have that kind of love and support in your life, you’re doing just fine. If not, time to figure out who that tribe is and stick to them like glue. Whatever’s coming down the pike, you’re going to need your people because that’s what family’s for. Now, if someone could help me get “Cell Block Tango” out of my head…