Genes

I share a lot of things with my parents: Blue eyes, Curly hair, High levels of stubbornness, insomnia, and enough of a touch of insanity to leave me trying to count the number of voices in my head when I’m bored. However, a lot of the traits that I’m proudest of inheriting have little to do with genetics. For example, my mother and father have done a good job of instilling a sense of confidence, and a belief in myself that I’m fairly certain isn’t something hat can be isolated on an individual DNA strand, or the pension for questioning everything I experience in life, which, while a result of just as much the influence of my grandparents as my parents, is still likely not something I picked up in a stray codon, but was rather an inheritance as a result of growing up.

What I really mean to say here is that I’ve lately begun to question the importance of relation when it comes to family. I remember when I was younger, I was always fond of telling everyone that the only reason I loved my sister was “because I had to.” And why not? She was annoying, teased me, got me in trouble, and, by my estimation at the time, was deserving of little more love than was obligated by our shared genes. But today, I love my sister, unconditionally, and it has very little to do with the fact that we share parents. I love her because of everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve shared, and for the fact the she loves and supports me, even in the rough spots.

Especially being in college now, and being a lot closer to “out on my own” than I ever have been, I find I have a very different perspective on family. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and everyone from “back home,” and I’m thankful for the love they give me. But, being in school, I find that the word family just as aptly applies to the people I spend my days with, roommates and classmates and friends, as it might to my blood relations. It is these people, my friends, who share in my daily life here at school, who struggle through homework with me, eat meals with me, watch movies with me, play games with me. Honestly, it’s uncanny how many parallels I can draw between what I’ve shared with my family at home and my family at school.

And I find no shame in making this comparison, because, not only are these friends here to share the best parts of my life, but the worst. Again, don’t mis-understand, I’m well aware of the temper tantrums and many an asking of “Can I please?” that my parents dealt with through my 18 years at home. But let’s be fair, I can trough just as bad of a temper tantrum about a rough test, or a long homework assignment as I might have about not getting what I wanted for Christmas when I was 8. And my friends are here for me, here to shower me with love, and understanding, support, and words of encouragement.

I suppose one way of interpreting this is really that my family made for really good friends, just as my friends make really good family members. My mom and dad raised me as their child, but there was always respect in the way they treated me, like I was a kid, but also a person, and after a few rounds of Mario party with my mom, or watching the football game with my dad, I felt very much like their friend, as well as their son. However, I think the most important simultaneous friend/family relationship in my life has been the relationship I have with my grandparents. After a Sunday walk, or a matinee movie, with plenty of hours spent discussing everything from politics and religion to Star Trek and Harry Potter, it was these people that really taught me what it means to have your opinion valued, to be treated like a person, and how important mutual respect is for any relationship.

It’s weird to think that these people I’ve only met over the course of the past few years feel like family to me. And yet, I guess it really isn’t. Or, at least, I don’t want it to be. Too often today, I think we’re inclined to believe that it’s imperative to “take care of our own.” I don’t believe it’s a bad thing to want to protect people you care about, but really, I think too much clout is given to the “us vs. them” ideal. Whether it’s family, or company, or school, or country, I think it’s too easy to forget that, usually, a person’s background and their worthiness for love are fairly unrelated.  

In closing, I love my family, both the people from home, her were part of my growing up, and the people who are here, and are still a part of me growing up. And I love them for who they are, how they act, and the way they love and respect me, with no care for relation or affiliation. Overall, I don’t think love and respect should ever be something people should feel entitled to. Deep down, I think dogmas like “respect your elders,” or “love them because your related,” are outdated. I think we’re all smart enough to agree that there are plenty of stupid people, old and young, and there are too many stories of bad parents and bad children for me to believe blood relation is what makes love. But I do believe everyone deserves a chance. It’s just a matter of what you do with that chance. Love, care for, and respect me, and I’ll do the same for you. Make stupid choices (like becoming a UNH hockey fan) and you can’t just expect respect in return. It’s like a library card: Everyone can get one at first, but draw too many dirty pictures in the margins, and you’ll ending up having to wait for the third “Hunger Games” movie to come out in order to know how the trilogy ends.