Well That Didn't Work

FOR THREE DAYS
I've never completely understood how my parents managed to fall in love with one another; their differences have become more and more apparent to me as I've gotten older. My mother was raised in an upper class home in the south; her father was a doctor, her mother a social butterfly, and she, the youngest of their two children. She and my uncle, Brian, were raised in a proper manner. Dinner parties and gowns were typical of the life she led, as were dancing and being courted by a number of eligible young men. When I started dating in high school, she asked me, "Why are you only going out with that one boy? When I was in high school, I had a date with a different boy every weekend." Upon her graduation from her all-girls school, she was accepted into the University of Texas, where she planned to study journalism or public relations. She met my father while considering transferring from her southern university to his northern, Ivy League school during her sophomore year; they were both 19.

He'd been raised in a home typical of a New Jersey family. Although his father was a doctor like my mother's, he was the youngest of five children, making the lifestyle she'd enjoyed impossible for him to have had. They met through a casual friend, he fell for her and, shortly thereafter, transferred to her southern home to win her heart, although it needed little convincing. Looking at my father now, I actually have to force myself to believe that he was ever such a romantic. Apparently, he called his parents the night he met my mother and informed them that he had met the girl he was going to marry. They did so one year after their graduation in August, 1983.

Their contrasting upbringings have not been lost on me, the sides of my family couldn't be any more different. I spent this weekend with my mother's side of my extended family, my uncle and grandparents. Whereas that side of my family is comprised of only three members, my father's side of the family is comprised of four sets of aunts and uncle's, their assembled children (my nine cousins,) and my grandmother, not to mention the relatives of relatives that continually find their way to the table on various holidays, but are seldom heard from elsewhere.

Anyway, as I said, I spent this weekend with my mother's side of the family. My grandmother's 70th birthday was this past Monday and, to celebrate, she, my grandfather, and my uncle decided to spend a weekend in New York. At my grandmother's insistence, they stayed in Manhattan, instead of with us only 30 minutes away. She wanted to enjoy the city in all it's glory. Thus, they all stayed in a hotel on Central Park South, just off of 5th avenue. I wouldn't expect less from my grandparents. I love them, and though they sound like lushes, they are some of the most down to earth, kind people I could ever hope to meet. Still, $500 meals are not uncommon when dining with my mother's side of the family. When I was twelve or so, my grandfather treated us (himself, my grandfather, my uncle, my mother, my father, my sister and me) to a meal at a restaurant that's name I can't recall. It was a multi-course meal, served on the finest china, with sorbet between courses to cleanse the palette, etc, etc, etc. The meal was $100+ per person. Friday night, after walking around 5th Avenue (listening to my grandmother go on about the jewelry in the window of Tiffanys' and Harry Winston's and how she couldn't wear such elaborate pieces anymore...talking of the glamorous life she left when she, or rather, her husband, went into retirement) we ate at Peter Luger's Steak House...and, to further illustrate my point, on Saturday night, we ate in an a formal Italian restaurant on the upper west side...which totaled nearly $600 including tip.

I greatly enjoy spending time with that side of my family, quite a bit so more than with my other (spent mostly watching television with my cousins in silence while our parents gossip amongst themselves.) It's not because they dote on me (which they do) it's the culture and knowledge I'm immersed in when I'm with them, not to mention the affection, which is noticeable...in contrast to the silence aforementioned. My grandparents and uncle taught me nearly all I know about fine wines, theater, foreign cuisine, geography, flowers, cooking, etc. I'm very well-rounded in that respect...

And while I enjoy Gus and Gus' (a friend chicken place in Delaware, swarming in flies that the entirety of my father's side of the family dines in each August,) back yard barbecues, and other paternal relative-related activities, I truly enjoy making Japanese floral arrangements with my uncle, discussing Hungarian politics with my grandfather, and learning how to identify a fake diamond from my grandmother. I'm driven by a desire to learn...that side of my family feeds that desire...

I know this must sound pretentious; I promise you, my life isn't and neither am I. My grandparents don't live in a mansion, they just managed their money well and spend it (albeit in excess) on important occasions. I wouldn't want to buy anything I saw in Tiffany's or the hideous $500 hat I tried on at Bergdorf Goodman as a joke...we were all simply looking for fun...mocking who would buy something as hideous, especially when it could be purchased at Target for only $5. I enjoyed being on 5th Avenue, and pretending I had the money to buy every shiny object I passed, knowing full well that if I had that kind of money, I still wouldn't have bought anything I saw. Still, it was nice to pretend, to get out of my house...I've been home for only 9 days and I already want to kill myself or a member (or three) of my family...

It was nice to pretend I didn't live here...to pretend I could immerse myself in the culture of a city like New York surrounded by intelligent people, that I could afford to go to the theater on a regular basis...instead of watching television for hours with my sister (who, despite good grades, is more a memorizer of facts than truly intelligent. Mind you, I'm not saying I am.)

I'm trying not to sound like a snob, knowing full well that that is, in fact, what I sound like, but like I said, I thrive on learning and, as my loyal readers and friends know, I get depressed when I'm bored...I've been bored for months, moreso now that I'm in New Jersey (the bane of my existence.) For three days though, I learned...I learned about everything. My sister and father's presence on the second and third day of my family's visit to the area didn't help...*sigh*

Damn, I'm just rambling now...I'd best go. Comments ()

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