Yesterday I watched a run thru of AMERICAN FIESTA – a beautiful, simple play. One man’s story of how he struggled with an obsession of Fiestaware (colorful, depression-era dishes that are now a collector’s item) and also an obsession to fit in to a mold of what he thought his life should be. A career that made him lots of money, but didn’t fulfill him. A marriage to his partner that didn’t quite gel with the image his family had in mind. A need for approval and acceptance from his parents – even though he was forty and no longer legally needed their approval. A struggle within himself to be who he was and to reconcile that with the lifestyle in which he was raised.
The Fiestaware serves as a vehicle for his story. A chipped dish to represent his granny and her hardships. A small bowl that held a memory of his childhood. A big red bowl as his conservative and overbearing father. A big blue bowl as his mother who could never fully accept who he was, but still loved him forever. Every dish has a story, every family member has a history.
And in the final scene he is setting the table, with these dishes, these – his family… and while doing so, he comes to the realization that this is what heaven looks like. It’s not the pristine perfection of having a complete set of mint-condition dishes all in corresponding size and color. It’s the disarray of all the many colors and shapes and cracks and imperfections that create a family of love and life and togetherness.
While watching, I also came to a realization: that I have some of the same hang-ups in my own life. I am not a person struggling for acceptance from my parents – I am very lucky in that regard. But I am still experiencing a struggle within myself: a tug-of-war between what I’ve always pictured in my head as the ideal life, (the ideal table setting) and what is the reality of my life – the wonderful and blessed reality.
I suppose I am old-fashioned. More than a few people have told me on many occasions that I’m an “old soul”. But I’ve always had this vision of what my life would be like when I was older. I’d be married in a big wedding. I’d have children. I’d live near my family. I’d have a house and a yard and I’d make Sunday dinners. I’d celebrate birthdays and holidays and graduations surrounded by my parents and siblings and cousins.
But, as my world has turned out – right now, I’m not married. I don’t have children. I only see my family a handful of times each year. And though this is not what I intended when I was 14 and my best friend and I would plan our lives together, it is still good. It is still joyous. It is still a blessed life. And of course, there is still much time. As my beau, Andy, says: “Life is long.”
Perhaps my Easter Sunday won’t be spent with my parents and brother and sister this year… but instead I will enjoy the holiday with Andy and our good friends who just got engaged, and the four of us will be a kind of family of our own. And when we set the table and sit town to eat and give thanks for the bounty before us, it will truly feel like family. Not flesh and blood, but of a different kind – an extension of our four separate families, each of us bringing to the table something of our own traditions and histories and childhood memories. And that will make us family to each other.
I realized watching that final scene, that holding on to my childhood ideal of what a perfect life should be may be holding me back from fully enjoying the adult life I have now… which is quite different than I pictured, and quite wonderful also.
To leave room for new traditions while not forgetting the old. To embrace the ideals of your partner while not giving up on your own and to somehow conjoin the two – that is marriage.
The Fiestaware serves as a vehicle for his story. A chipped dish to represent his granny and her hardships. A small bowl that held a memory of his childhood. A big red bowl as his conservative and overbearing father. A big blue bowl as his mother who could never fully accept who he was, but still loved him forever. Every dish has a story, every family member has a history.
And in the final scene he is setting the table, with these dishes, these – his family… and while doing so, he comes to the realization that this is what heaven looks like. It’s not the pristine perfection of having a complete set of mint-condition dishes all in corresponding size and color. It’s the disarray of all the many colors and shapes and cracks and imperfections that create a family of love and life and togetherness.
While watching, I also came to a realization: that I have some of the same hang-ups in my own life. I am not a person struggling for acceptance from my parents – I am very lucky in that regard. But I am still experiencing a struggle within myself: a tug-of-war between what I’ve always pictured in my head as the ideal life, (the ideal table setting) and what is the reality of my life – the wonderful and blessed reality.
I suppose I am old-fashioned. More than a few people have told me on many occasions that I’m an “old soul”. But I’ve always had this vision of what my life would be like when I was older. I’d be married in a big wedding. I’d have children. I’d live near my family. I’d have a house and a yard and I’d make Sunday dinners. I’d celebrate birthdays and holidays and graduations surrounded by my parents and siblings and cousins.
But, as my world has turned out – right now, I’m not married. I don’t have children. I only see my family a handful of times each year. And though this is not what I intended when I was 14 and my best friend and I would plan our lives together, it is still good. It is still joyous. It is still a blessed life. And of course, there is still much time. As my beau, Andy, says: “Life is long.”
Perhaps my Easter Sunday won’t be spent with my parents and brother and sister this year… but instead I will enjoy the holiday with Andy and our good friends who just got engaged, and the four of us will be a kind of family of our own. And when we set the table and sit town to eat and give thanks for the bounty before us, it will truly feel like family. Not flesh and blood, but of a different kind – an extension of our four separate families, each of us bringing to the table something of our own traditions and histories and childhood memories. And that will make us family to each other.
I realized watching that final scene, that holding on to my childhood ideal of what a perfect life should be may be holding me back from fully enjoying the adult life I have now… which is quite different than I pictured, and quite wonderful also.
To leave room for new traditions while not forgetting the old. To embrace the ideals of your partner while not giving up on your own and to somehow conjoin the two – that is marriage.
2 comments:
Rachael darling, your thoughts are very beautiful and soooo well expressed. Hard to write of the things you do w/o sounding pompous and cliche-ed which you don't at all. Didn't know you were such a good writer. Ever thought of sending something to the Modern Love section of the Sunday Times Style section?? MJ
I try to find myself exactly where I am at. Fading the thoughts of the past and the plans for the future into this moment. From here I can share love and be loved. From here I can go forward without any other baggage than I wish to carry and no other thoughts than I wish to think. When I find myself getting all wrapped up in the fray I can fade back into the moment, take a deep breath and start my day over any time I wish...
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