I gotta tell a story about my parents. They definitely have flaws. Fortunately, I don't, but I am compassionate, so on with the tale.
Years ago, like in the seventies, they had three couple-friends, as in six people, in hitched sets. We rarely do the couple-friend thing nowadays, but they did, along with The League of Women voters, the casual cigarette, and dinner parties to which I was not invited. We hung around the top of the stairs, coveting the adult conversation and undoubtedly excellent food. Or, if Mom & Dad went out, we had a range of babysitters, some with boyfriends on the phone, and others with apparent abnormalities that kept them from having boyfriends: short brittle hair and a mannish expression, or another with a birthmark running down half her face. We ate American Chop Suey - macaroni, hamburger, and tomato sauce. Yummm.
My parents had more elegant ideas. Chinese food, the symphony, and movies. One set of friends, The Rubbles - as I actually thought of them - were particularly intelligent, polite, and also petite. My parents were both tall, so there was a physical similarity to The Flintstone situation, as well. The other two couples were very friendly, except for one woman - we'll call her Wicky - who seemed to have a bitter edge, and looked at me like she might clip my ear off if I said the wrong thing. Her husband was a jovial furniture salesman, aptly named Joe - at least here, if not in reality. The other folks were a charming and wealthy couple. The wife, Flora, was a gracious, warm woman, and her husband, Earl, was easy-as-pie. He had a pipe hanging out of his mouth and a croquet court in the back yard. She had a large mole and crinkly eyes.
After a few years, it dawned on the Wicky-Joes and the Flora-Earls that they had not been invited to Barney and Betty's for years. There started to be tension, and Wicky made lots of cutting remarks, out of earshot, or when the Rubbles were not in attendance. No invitation was forthcoming, however. The four couples visited together at three homes, but never at the Rubbles' house. My mother told me about it, and I got a bit Wickyish, really. It seemed unfair, and just plain wrong. Friends were supposed to reciprocate. Mom said that she knew that when she called, Barney and Betty were happy to hear from them - my parents, of course, were Fred and Wilma. Jeez, I thought, when Mom rationalized the Rubbles' behavior. My mother's such a wimp! I wanted to tell her to get a grip, that if they were never calling, and never inviting, the Rubbles just weren't great friends.
Eventually the Wicky-Joes and the Flora-Earls dumped the Rubbles. Someone had finally had words, and what the words were remains a mystery to me, but they were had, or whatever. It was awkward for my parents - Fred and Wilma - but they continued their friendship with the Rubbles. They saw the other two couples separately.
Eventually, the Rubbles confided in Wilma and Fred. Barney had had a major problem with major depression for a long time, and having people in their home had not been an option. They never knew when Barney would be well, or not. They also never told Wicky et al, and they remained my parents' dear friends. Later, Barney got rich and gave bucketloads of money to universities and hospitals for research and support for psychiatry. He spoke openly about his own depression, and when we talked on a few occasions, he tried to be supportive of me as I became accustomed to living with depression myself.
The morals of the story are: the Flintstones and the Rubbles were better friends than any of those other extras that wandered into the scene now and then. Also, even when they didn't understand the eccentricities of the Rubbles, Fred and Wilma stuck with them. Never mind that Bam-Bam was a horrid kid, and Barney a bit of an oaf. They were pals, and that was that. Also, Pebbles may have grown up to be a lovely person, and she undoubtedly tolerated her parents' foibles, because they were themselves so forgiving. Plus, Pebbles knew that her own perfection would be hard to match. Finally, it is wicky important to say something when a friend's behavior is hurtful. Otherwise, you may never get to be in another episode.
Years ago, like in the seventies, they had three couple-friends, as in six people, in hitched sets. We rarely do the couple-friend thing nowadays, but they did, along with The League of Women voters, the casual cigarette, and dinner parties to which I was not invited. We hung around the top of the stairs, coveting the adult conversation and undoubtedly excellent food. Or, if Mom & Dad went out, we had a range of babysitters, some with boyfriends on the phone, and others with apparent abnormalities that kept them from having boyfriends: short brittle hair and a mannish expression, or another with a birthmark running down half her face. We ate American Chop Suey - macaroni, hamburger, and tomato sauce. Yummm.
My parents had more elegant ideas. Chinese food, the symphony, and movies. One set of friends, The Rubbles - as I actually thought of them - were particularly intelligent, polite, and also petite. My parents were both tall, so there was a physical similarity to The Flintstone situation, as well. The other two couples were very friendly, except for one woman - we'll call her Wicky - who seemed to have a bitter edge, and looked at me like she might clip my ear off if I said the wrong thing. Her husband was a jovial furniture salesman, aptly named Joe - at least here, if not in reality. The other folks were a charming and wealthy couple. The wife, Flora, was a gracious, warm woman, and her husband, Earl, was easy-as-pie. He had a pipe hanging out of his mouth and a croquet court in the back yard. She had a large mole and crinkly eyes.
After a few years, it dawned on the Wicky-Joes and the Flora-Earls that they had not been invited to Barney and Betty's for years. There started to be tension, and Wicky made lots of cutting remarks, out of earshot, or when the Rubbles were not in attendance. No invitation was forthcoming, however. The four couples visited together at three homes, but never at the Rubbles' house. My mother told me about it, and I got a bit Wickyish, really. It seemed unfair, and just plain wrong. Friends were supposed to reciprocate. Mom said that she knew that when she called, Barney and Betty were happy to hear from them - my parents, of course, were Fred and Wilma. Jeez, I thought, when Mom rationalized the Rubbles' behavior. My mother's such a wimp! I wanted to tell her to get a grip, that if they were never calling, and never inviting, the Rubbles just weren't great friends.
Eventually the Wicky-Joes and the Flora-Earls dumped the Rubbles. Someone had finally had words, and what the words were remains a mystery to me, but they were had, or whatever. It was awkward for my parents - Fred and Wilma - but they continued their friendship with the Rubbles. They saw the other two couples separately.
Eventually, the Rubbles confided in Wilma and Fred. Barney had had a major problem with major depression for a long time, and having people in their home had not been an option. They never knew when Barney would be well, or not. They also never told Wicky et al, and they remained my parents' dear friends. Later, Barney got rich and gave bucketloads of money to universities and hospitals for research and support for psychiatry. He spoke openly about his own depression, and when we talked on a few occasions, he tried to be supportive of me as I became accustomed to living with depression myself.
The morals of the story are: the Flintstones and the Rubbles were better friends than any of those other extras that wandered into the scene now and then. Also, even when they didn't understand the eccentricities of the Rubbles, Fred and Wilma stuck with them. Never mind that Bam-Bam was a horrid kid, and Barney a bit of an oaf. They were pals, and that was that. Also, Pebbles may have grown up to be a lovely person, and she undoubtedly tolerated her parents' foibles, because they were themselves so forgiving. Plus, Pebbles knew that her own perfection would be hard to match. Finally, it is wicky important to say something when a friend's behavior is hurtful. Otherwise, you may never get to be in another episode.
