It's an odd subject for me - more-so than most people, I think. I started thinking about it because of this Olympic "moment" they had, with a paralympian who was adopted as a baby from Russia because her mother couldn't take care of an amputee baby taking a trip to Russia to meet her birth family.
I have a number of definitions of "family". Heck, I even have different versions of my Portland family, but...First off, a little history for those who met me later in life. I'm my mother's only daughter (She and Dad were married very young - she was 16), had me and then were divorced by the time Mom was 19. So, I'm an only child... but then my father went and got married again (a lot. Trust me on this.) So, I had several step brothers and sisters that I can't really remember that came and went with the various stepmothers, and then I also have several half-brothers that are a little more permanent (I do remember their names, at the very least.) Dad, incidentally, was also one of 12 kids, some of whom were about as bad at staying married as he was, so there was no chance of me keeping track of my aunts and uncles, let alone any of the over 200 first cousins. Although he did do me one favor - the last woman he married happens to be my mother's cousin, so that at least cut down on some of the cousin-age. I can remember at last one of them - technically, I'm my own first cousin once removed. Of course, Gail also happens to be one of 10 kids, so that's another 18 aunts and uncles to remember. Anyway, due to various life events, I don't really consider myself a part of the Humphries clan (I'm pretty sure they also don't consider me a part of the clan.) But I suppose you could call them my blood-kin.
My mom's family are my heart-kin, though. Grandma and Grandpa helped mom raise me, Aunt Sandy and Aunt Sherri were always part of my life when I was growing up, I know and love them all, but more importantly, they feel like family (even Uncle Jim, who I still haven't forgiven for the water pistol incident. My memory is long, Uncle Jim. Very long. Good thing you love my Aunt Sandy and treat her right.) But though they are all family, I've always been the neon-pink sheep of the family - not black, per se... just very bright pink. I'm the one who moved out of Utah and stayed out, I'm the one without children, the non-homemaker. I know that I belong to them, and they belong to me. They've never condemned me for who I am, and I'm eternally grateful for that, but I just have felt a little outside. Perhaps because for so long, it was me and mom, always on the road to the next place.
Until the next place was Portland. My town. 25 years of running, and then I landed here, and I've stuck here ever since. Here's where I've built my families - my work family and my family of the soul. My soul-kin - the ones I've chosen. Some of them I knew from other times and places (Eugene, Tongue Point, Avatar, Rocky Horror), some of them have moved on to other times and places (Miss you, kiddo...)
And then there's my life-partner - the one who breaths with the same rhythm as I do, and the one who brings yet another family to me. Gene, who taught my husband to be that kind of man. Ruth, who I still miss every time something reminds me of her. The brothers and sisters-in-law that I never thought I'd have - not to imagine the nieces and nephews that are still a surprise to me.
So... any conclusions here? Not really, although just the realization that I'm very blessed when it comes to family.
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