Family Nights

Backyard basketball, with the smoke from a barbecue blowing in softly on the western breeze...

Over the course of raising six kids these past 30 years, my definition of family has expanded along with my budget. All seven of us tend to like each other's friends, and get excited whenever a new friend enters the circle. Last summer's wedding and next summer's should be similar events, lots of joy, hope, love, and inclusiveness, and not much by way of pretension. My kids all know how to produce events frugally. The girls used to stage giant "band jams" in high school. They rented an old theatre in Petaluma, invited bands from all the local high schools, and charged a nominal admission fee.

Their little brother Peter and I were the ticket takers. He'd get mad if I fell for a pretty girl's story at the window that she didn't have the full $6 admission, and let her in anyway.

Old-fashioned? Chauvinistic?

I don't know. A hopeful smile always deserves some sort of positive response. Rules are meant to be bent.

The kids in this extended family of mine are competitors, also. They play hard; they work hard. Sometimes they are high achievers; other times they go into reflective stages, and ignore their "careers” for a while. The sounds of their dribbling, shooting, and scoring (or not) echo through our neighborhood these summer nights. Friends are always welcome at these events. We have a rolling set of people of all ages who show up out there, from six to sixty. It's special when any ex-partners are part of the group, too.

That's it. Just what one family does to ward off post-modern discontinuity. Many other groups do the same. The alternative, as we age, is to isolate, which is fatal in more ways than one. I say: If you find someone who feels like family, adopt him or her! Then let the game go on, as players come and go, obeying the natural rhythms of life.