Avoiding contact with your family because they’re abusive is one thing, but these days it seems something as trivial as refusing to babysit can lead people to break ties that are, in fact, precious. I bring up Brooklyn only because he is one of the most recent public figures to announce their decision to go “no contact” with their family. Growing up, I heard over and over again that a family that prays together stays together.
My dad’s version was that a family that eats together stays together. He insisted that we all sat down to dinner every night so we could talk about our day, could know each other, share opinions and ideas. The dinner table was also a place to iron out or talk about grievances we had with each other.
Did it always work? Still, I believe that it is worth trying to resolve family spats or feuds – or am I hopelessly out of touch with the current zeitgeist, where dinners are presided over by phones, or eaten in front of the television? Do parents annoy and disappoint their children and vice versa?
Read Full Article on Daily Maverick
[paywall]
Of course. A case in point. When I was oh, 12 or 13, I was leaning truculently against a wood-topped counter in the haberdashery section of Amods, the general dealer store in my hometown, Ladysmith, while my mum shopped for red ric-rac trim.
It was midweek after school on a hot summer afternoon in early November and I was listless: bored, hungry and impatient. I muttered “hurry up” louder than I intended; my mother shot me a poisonous look, reminding me that the trim was for my birthday dress. She was having a hard time matching the trim colour to a swatch of fabric.
My clueless mother was on an errand for Cedric, our dressmaker, a short, neat man with bouffant hair, a penchant for peacock waistcoats and small fingers that performed embroidery miracles. He made our clothes – Crimplene dresses for me and my sister, and plain and dowdy worsted wool suits (the British queen was my mother’s style icon) for mum.
[/paywall]
