(An original essay, published here for the first time.)
At a dinner party recently, I was seated next to a complete stranger, as one often is at these things, and between the soup and the main course we neatly segued onto the topic of our families. It’s sort of a natural progression, I’ve noticed, fueled by abnormally close quarters, free-flowing wine, and the likelihood that you will probably never see the person again.
Once we dispensed with our immediate families (spouses and what they “do,” along with our children and their unique categories of genius) it was only natural that we branched out further. This segment usually begins with something like, “So, where did you grow up?” Or, “Tell me about your parents and siblings.”
The reason I even mention this dinner party scenario, is that I have caught myself, on more than one occasion, in response to this birth family question, stating rather vaguely that one or more of my family members have “fallen through the cracks.” If my dinner partner is smart, he or she will realize that this statement (coupled with my sudden prolonged fascination with my glass of wine) is a hint to move along to a safer topic, like health care or climate change.
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