Family matters

by Eel Paradise

I’ve heard that when the last parent dies, usually the mother, the family can fall apart and the children lose their connection, when the family no longer gathers around the matriarch, visiting with yearly reunions, and the siblings drift further apart.

It’s been nearly four years and at least three out of four siblings are going through personal crises: One has colitis and has not had a solid shit since the day our mother died, January 15, 2021, lives up on a mountain alone twenty miles out of town, and can’t pass her drivers license test.

Another has had multiple unsuccessful operations on her foot, using a walking boot to get around for the last year, admits to putting half a cup of half and half in her coffee, and her cholesterol has shot up to dangerous levels. She hates where she lives and needs to make serious and expensive repairs to her home in order to try to sell it and move away, but to where? There’s no guarantee anyone will want to buy it, as it’s located in a dangerous climate-change-affected flood-prone area.

I’m not sure about the third sibling, she didn’t feel like going to her family’s Thanksgiving dinner, that’s all I know, and I should check in with her.

And me? No one checks in with me. I have my struggles, mostly with insomnia and isolation, but the sibs all have their children, which gives them more to worry about but also a certain foundation of being, of life, of love.

So what to do, or say to them? When my mother was still alive we were doing better it seems, or maybe that’s not true, and it’s just aging?

I’m really sorry my sibling is suffering every moment with uncomfortable foot pain, with another operation coming up this month, and I can’t do anything about it. The sibling on the mountain is mostly uncommunicative, which I hate and wish she would reach out or visit sometime when she comes to town. I don’t think she likes herself very much, or me either, though she’s there for me when I need something major, like the two weeks she spent here as caregiver when I was recovering from my hip replacement in August, though I haven’t seen her since.

12/14/2024

itsdougholland.com 
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29 responses to “Family matters”

  1. Tom Avatar
    Tom

    Family, in my experience, is odd. Some familes vacation together and are thick as theives in every matter. Other families, like mine, operate like roomates. It’s like there’s house rules that you should love and care about each other but your heart isn’t in it and efforts to do so are perfunctionary.
    I somewhat envy the close familes, but in practice they would be claustrophobic for me.
    I understand folks who bemoan families that don’t live up to their expectations. Because that’s the truth they were sold.
    In the end, my mindset is people are people. Parents tend to love their offspring but everything else is a chance of personality.

    Reply
    1. Doug Holland Avatar
      Doug Holland

      That’s my family — flatmates who’ve moved out and moved on, as have I. Not dysfunctional so much as barely functional as a family. For most of them, having once lived down the hall is all we have in common.

      Reply
  2. eel paradise Avatar
    eel paradise

    In the story I’m lamenting that the predicted has happened…
    Bemoaning? I suppose…

    Reply
    1. Tom Avatar
      Tom

      I thought about that word, and have regrets on using it.

      Reply
  3. Tom Avatar
    Tom

    Your post warrented multiple rereads. It’s clear you care about your siblings and are concerned with their health. I respect that. I also read that your concern is not reciprocated.
    It’s a tough situation. From an outsider’s view I would start a converstion with my siblings, “what do you want?, how can I help?” If they are unresponive to that, there’s not much further you can go.

    Reply
    1. eel paradise Avatar
      eel paradise

      It’s a touchy situation and i don’t want to be seen as needy,
      which is probably not good advice to myself ’cause i honestly probably am,
      and like to keep it real…
      anyway, i was feeling moderately depressed a couple weeks ago until i talked to the sister who had all those
      problems…
      thanks for reading….
      i was inspired to write that yesterday because i had had a good night’s sleep
      after adopting my latest strategy:
      only one cuppa coffee a day, only an hour or less of Netflix a day, and before 1pm…
      anyway, it worked again today and i wrote for a couple hours, my Year In Review,
      so we’ll see what happens next with this…

      Reply
      1. Doug Holland Avatar
        Doug Holland

        > anyway, i was feeling moderately depressed a couple weeks ago until i talked to the sister who had all those problems…

        This gets me curious. What shook off your moderate depression — was it the conversation with your sister, or was it knowing that at least things are better for you than her?

        Reply
        1. eel paradise Avatar
          eel paradise

          the latter…
          put my existential angst in perspective,
          compared to her financial, health and location problems…

          Reply
          1. Doug Holland Avatar
            Doug Holland

            It’s sad and awful, but I know that feeling. It’s a real pick-me-up knowing other people are even dumber than me, have made even worse choices, and are stuck in even worse lives than mine.

            Reply
            1. eel paradise Avatar
              eel paradise

              haha, and some people are worth millions and have a hard time getting it together, like this friend of mine, consider running this one if you’re interested:
              Ken
              My friend sold his house for a lot more than he was asking, the real estate agent had wanted everything out before she showed the place. (When I sell my place the deal is I can take whatever I want and leave whatever I want, otherwise I wouldn’t sell it, too much work!)
              When I got out of my car in a regular neighborhood in Fortuna I said, “How can you live like this? When’s the last time you had neighbors around you?”
              “It’s been decades,” he said. He had been living the last twenty years in an old former Indian cabin next to Humboldt Bay.
              We walked around the backyard and he showed me the garage, full of stuff except for a place for one car. “There used to be room for my truck too,” he said. His car was also packed with stuff, except for the driver’s seat.
              We went in the house, took the tour, and every room was full of boxes and other stuff, including the kitchen. “I had to move out of the bedroom because it smelled bad,” he said. “The worst room is the bathroom, it’s too small.”
              “Do you have anything valuable here?” I asked
              “Yes, but I’m not going to tell you where it is!” he said.
              “I have two valuable things,” I said. “A sword from Borneo and a fifteen watt FM radio transmitter.”
              He moved some things around, we sat in the kitchen and talked, and after a while he made us each a cup of tea. “You’re one of my last friends in Humboldt,” he said. I’d known him since ‘77 when he’d turned me on to Scrabble when he was a neighbor in Whale Gulch.
              We talked about “stuff” for awhile, a frequent topic these days. “Well, this is your life now,” I said, surveying the jumble of everything everywhere.
              “I’m on it,” he said. He told me about taking photos of his great grandfather, who had lived in the area, to the historical society where they were photocopied. He had also started getting rid of unnecessary stuff, like his meditation pillows and his collection of women’s clothing, to thrift stores and the dump, as he was done with Zen and crossdressing.
              The thing is, even if he miraculously got rid of everything, or organized it onto shelves, or however, the house is an ugly musty thing with nasty grey carpeting and a smelly bedroom he can’t even live in. He showed me an article about the number of foreclosures in Southern Humboldt.
              “I’m still thinking about getting a place in Garberville,” he said. “I could take the bus down when I can’t drive anymore.”
              When his father died a couple years ago he got a big inheritance and went on a spending spree, getting the Fortuna place and another on the river a couple hours out of town in Trinity County. “I try to get out there whenever I can,” he said, and looking around at the chaos I could see that.
              He has a few million dollars now, no heirs, and could live anywhere he wanted, though not too far away as he has a steady girlfriend in town.
              If I were really honest I’d say, “I don’t know why you bought this dump, did you just take the first house you looked at? I don’t think you could even sell it, the bedroom stinks. After you get everything sorted or thrown away you could just give this place away and buy yourself a nice little place, maybe up the hill in the sun, instead of in this foggy bottom. Did you get this place so you would walk to Safeway? Hell, you’re loaded, dude! Why live like this? Just admit you made a mistake and move on.”
              As I sat in his kitchen talking and drinking my tea I was grateful that I could leave soon, and realized that all my stuff isn’t so bad, mostly nice things like twelve boxes of Mexican folk art. (My really disorganized stuff is ten boxes of memorabilia in my upstairs closet.)
              That night I made the mistake of reading a disturbing email just before bed, from my sister telling about her health issues, multiple surgeries which weren’t helping. When I woke up at 4am I was kept awake thinking about her, my hoarder friend, and Gaza. After a while I thought, “God, all these things I’m concerned about and not worrying about anything about me.”
              (Update: Today, a year later, I stopped by to visit him on the way back from Eureka, found no one at his house, and he texted me his new address. He had bought a sweet remodeled house up the hill near the park.
              “Yeah, I had to get out of that hole,” he said.
              “This is great, I’m proud of you man,” I said.)

              Reply
              1. Doug Holland Avatar
                Doug Holland

                “There but for the grace of God,” is the line, and it’s true even though there’s no god. People fuck up, or just make dumb decisions you’d never make. Must be sweet to have a million bucks and be able to make big mistakes and shrug ’em off.

                I always like sidebars about “if I was honest” or “if I said what I *really* think. I want to be someone who says what he really thinks, but if I did I’d have no friends. I have no friends anyway, of course, so it’s just my blasted manners holding me back.

                The term ‘foggy bottom’ is nonsensical and makes me smile. How the hell did the real ‘foggy bottom’ get that name? (I refuse to Google.)

                Reply
                1. johnthebasket Avatar
                  johnthebasket

                  I join you in girlcotting the Googs, so I suppose we’ll have to conjecture. I’m guessing it’s named after a strip joint that specialized in lap dances. Guessing the origin of place names gets real tricky in a nation of immigrants and a population of natives with casinos.

                  jtb

                  Reply
                  1. Doug Holland Avatar
                    Doug Holland

                    I instead remember sitting in my beloved recliner, eating ice cream despite being lactose intolerant, and knowing a foggy bottom is on its way.

                    Never been to a ‘strip joint’, if all the ‘strip joint’ scenes in a thousand movies don’t count. Don’t feel that I’ve missed out, either.

                    Reply
                    1. johnthebasket Avatar
                      johnthebasket

                      Two kinds of strip joints: Recorded music and live music. “The Block” in Baltimore is one block that’s zoned for strip joints: Many of them feature live music, some of the best down home jazz I’ve ever heard. The tourists are annoying, but if you’re ever in Baltimore, you should go . . . not for the hot bodies, but for the cool jazz.

                      jtb

                    2. eel paradise Avatar
                      eel paradise

                      will you run a strip club story?
                      i have one…or two…

  4. Doug Holland Avatar
    Doug Holland

    Reply to John the basket about strip joints:

    But there would probably be people inside those places, right? I avoid places with people.

    Only strip joint I ever thought about going to was the Hungry i in San Francisco. Just wanted to see what mementos might be on the wall.

    Reply
    1. johnthebasket Avatar
      johnthebasket

      Dougles, I’m confused. You’ve been writing a series of reviews of Seattle restaurants and the bus rides to and from. I somehow assumed that there were other people in those restaurants. The food all sounds quite digestible. I suspect that some of those people drop into strip joints from time to time. I’ve not been to a strip joint for years, and I don’t know whether Seattle has any with live strip music, but I somehow doubt it. Nonetheless, the people in a neighborhood restaurant are people just like the people in a strip joint. Maybe you can even order a waffle.

      John

      Reply
      1. Doug Holland Avatar
        Doug Holland

        I know the drill in a restaurant. Table for one, and nobody talks to me. I don’t know the drill in a strip club.

        Plus my prejudiced assumption is that the establishment is more about stripping than food. Who wants boobies with their burgers or breakfast? Not me. What a distraction that would be. Wanna eat and read a chapter or two of a good book, that’s all. Sure don’t want to do that surrounded by drunks and obnoxious horny men.

        Nothing about strip clubs interests me. I haven’t seen the pros, but even stripping seems like silly theatrics, not particularly sexy. Holler if there’s some place you’d especially recommend, though.

        Reply
        1. johnthebasket Avatar
          johnthebasket

          Seattle is a conservative/traditionalist city, slow to integrate, late to the gay/lesbian insurrection, run by people on an island in a lake. I don’t think you’ll find a strip joint that serves alcohol or food, but my direct experience is a few decades old. I suspect that whatever strip clubs still exist in Seattle, if any, are soda pop, well-lit gyp-joints with sound holes in their woofers, but I’m just guessing. I find all those adjectives attractive. I’d prefer a city filled with strip joints to a city filled with office buildings. But I don’t get to make aesthetic calls for others, including you.

          jtb

          Reply
          1. Doug Holland Avatar
            Doug Holland

            Every strip joint in the movies serves booze. Seattle makes them serve soda pop? Ha!

            Had breakfast in a bar once, and it was … OK. So I looked at the Deja Vu website, and they don’t even mention food or drink. What would be the point of watching some tattooed lady shimmy around if there’s not even a cheeseburger? Srsly.

            Reply
            1. johnthebasket Avatar
              johnthebasket

              There are people, mostly but not all male, who get a rush of pleasure from seeing a scantily clad lass and don’t get the same rush from consuming a cheeseburger. And if your establishment has a kitchen — if it serves anything more than prepackaged pretzels — it is subject to unscheduled inspections from several layers of government inspectors, from local to state and, if your joint is on — or abuts — national facilities (military bases, national parks, U.S. Marshalls’ offices, etc.) you could be inspected by the Feds, just for serving cheeseburgers. And if you’re going to tacitly allow the occasional good customer to lift a performer’s tutu to get a glimpse of her hoo hoo, you don’t need a gaggle of inspectors of any kind hanging around.

              jtb

              Reply
              1. Doug Holland Avatar
                Doug Holland

                This is why strip clubs have never drawn me in. A scantily-clad stranger has only her visual attributes going for her, which is nice and all, but a well-made cheeseburger tingles all five of my senses. Add fresh fries, and the sixth sense can be evoked.

                Reply
  5. Doug Holland Avatar
    Doug Holland

    Reply to Eel Paradise about strip joints:

    > will you run a strip club story?

    Wasn’t planning to, but you could change my plans. Can’t imagine you’d write something that wouldn’t be good enough for this shitty blog.

    That same hearty invitation, by the way, applies to all the folks who comment here regularly or semi-regularly, intelligently or semi-intelligently. Ain’t gonna whip up ‘guidelines’ or anything, but the comments on this URL are at least as bright as the writing, so anyone with something to say is invited to write, sure.

    Reply
    1. eel paradise Avatar
      eel paradise

      Doug, one difference between you and me is you’re decent and I’m indecent. Then again, that true life story about you dropping a load in the middle of the bus station was possibly indecent, but in the same category of my indecent material: something happened and I want to share it. (Our parents, or at least mine, were very decent people, so what happened to me?)

      About “let me be honest about this,” yes i also don’t like that phrase and never use it, but in the last few years I’ve finally developed a filter, that mili-second where i think, “Well, even though what I’m about to say is probably true and definitely my true opinion, I’ll not say it if it needlessly hurts someone.”

      In this case, about my now-millionaire friend who deeply disappointed his academic father because he was just a janitor for 25 years, I didn’t show him the story i shared here, though i may yet.

      Reply
      1. Doug Holland Avatar
        Doug Holland

        Doug says show it to him!

        I’m decent? There’s dark in me, but I try to keep it hidden. Like a reverse “This Little Light of Mine,” though, sometimes it peeks out.

        “Well, even though what I’m about to say is probably true and definitely my true opinion, I’ll not say it if it needlessly hurts someone.” Yeah, I have too much of that in me. Screw such decency. We’ll see if it survives Christmas with the family.

        Reply
        1. eel paradise Avatar
          eel paradise

          That should be fun, as someone who is always alone for the holidaze I’m vaguely envious, but I’ll make the best of it: cooking turkey thighs and baked potatoes, sweet potatoes, and squash, green beans and broccoli. On Thanksgiving I surprised myself by breaking my record and making three sauces to go along with a similar meal, and binge-watched Sex Education on Netflix, loved that series…

          As I don’t drink anymore I decided to have just one shot glass of leftover wine, well then another, and another, and finally five or six, then half a dark chocolate bar, more Sed Ed, and didn’t regret any of it…

          Reply
          1. Doug Holland Avatar
            Doug Holland

            Turkey thighs, baked and sweet potatoes, veggies, then drunk alone on the holidays — can’t top that by seeing family, at least not my family.

            Hope “I don’t drink any more” was merely a choice unchosen, not a problem revisited.

            Reply
            1. eel paradise Avatar
              eel paradise

              Quit my bottle of wine a week two years ago for insomnia reasons…

              Reply
              1. Doug Holland Avatar
                Doug Holland

                Really! For me, almost any time I’ve drunk more than a glass of sherry, helping me fall asleep is at least part of the reason why.

                Reply

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