required that I reconcile with this bit of wisdom. Thirty years ago, Amy and I maneuvered our little plastic cars (she swallowed the white one, long story) around the board game of LIFE, landing happily on the squares that announced IT'S A BOY or IT'S TWINS. We assigned our favorite names to these tiny plastic children and somehow never even considered that having three or four children, no matter how well-considered their names, would be a crapload of work and really interefere with who we really were.Don't get me wrong--I think both Amy and I would be fabulous moms (albeit a bit bizarre--heavy on the costuming and themed parties) but for myriad reasons, that life isn't the one that we've ended up living. And while there are days that I wonder what it would be like to escort little William Benjamin Belben (Bill Ben Belben) up the street to kindergarten at Larrabee Elementary, mostly I live a satisfying life without Pull-Ups and Pirate-themed birthday parties. The arrangement here at the Nap Castle is not one I imagined even a year ago, but it's turning out to be a happy one, even if it doesn't match the plan I concocted for myself when I was eleven. There are no children here named Laurie Louise (my favorite name in 1979) or husbands, or weird floorplans involving indoor pools and grand pianos suspended from chains, a la the home designs I drew in 4th grade.
Here's what I have instead: a houseful of people whose lives have taken untraditional directions and who, through Craigslist or the Food Pavilion parking lot (long story) have ended up sharing space with me. Chris, Mark (pictured), Ethan, Phil, Amy, and Cynthia (and their accompanying friends and partners: Chris, Ashley, Julia, Joanna, Jay & Laurie, Gabe, etc.), have become, over the last 8 months, my erstwhile family. And despite the temporary nature of having people living in my extra bedrooms, on my sofa, and in my garage, I wouldn't trade their companionship, intelligence, and humor for the Other Life I might have had if I had driven my little plastic car on the road more traveled. Also, I don't have to cook dinner every night, thanks to our casually organized Community Meals, and I'd frankly rather attend a Guac-Off any night than go to Open House with a school full of intense parents.
In Waveland, Frederick Barthelme's latest novel, characters are involved in a similarly unconventional living arrangement. Following Hurricane Katrina, professor Vaughn Williams' marriage ends, and he becomes involved with his new landlady, Greta, whose own marriage ended under mysterious circumstances. Vaughn's world changes even more dramatically when his ex-wife, Gail, is abused by her boyfriend, and asks Vaughn and Greta to move into her house as protection. As absurd as the arrangement sounds, the three somehow make it work for a time, and all gain perspective into the complex nature of relationships of friends and lovers.
Like life at the Nap Castle, things at Gail's house aren't always ideal: Vaughn must confront his animosity towards his brother, Newton, who reappears and plays a pivotal role in Gail's life, and he must contend with Greta's complicated past, as well. But they make it work, somehow, which is the best we can all do, whatever our situation. Whether we have a traditional, nuclear family, or a family we've cobbled together through less conventional means, ultimately, our goal is the same: to connect, to find community, to be less alone in a huge and often scary world.
"If you were lucky in the world," according to Barthelme's protagonist, "you built yourself a new life as an adult, complete with friends, lovers, partners, rivals, enemies. You replaced the old people with new people, and your party moved along effortlessly." It might not be, as this character notes, the pleasures you'd dreamed of, or the life you'd dreamed of, nor sought, nor even imagined...but facing it, finally, you might find it is a life for which you are now well prepared.
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