Blood is thicker than...dysfunctional families and blinded by the genes

Men...

Aye, I've had cause her think about this one. I had a falling oot with a marrer aboot family ties allus being more important than friendship. Blood yer know! Nowt folk shouldn't do fer family and a father for their bairns in particular. It came down ter me minding me own business and saying nowt about his bairns. Criticise his bairns and yer criticise him. Unconditional love versus tough love versus family over friendship. We were bound ter fall out on this one. And we did. And it is sad. I miss the friendship. Boot it got me thinking, which led ter picking oop me pencil and scratching stoof down on paper.

This marrer, in his sixties is not alone in this generation, the boomers, putting themself at risk fer the poor decisions and life choices made by their bairns. It may not be the majority boot enough ter make yer think where did we go wrong raising bairns who ter turn oot this way? We are talking aboot bairns that are now adults in their thirties and forties, boot who expect ageing parents ter continue ter support them as if they were still teenagers living at home. Im not talking aboot those who genuinely fall on hard times. Health, work, divorce. It's them that decide to do what they want ter do, and have no responsibility fer consequences and then show no appetite ter learn from their mistakes. A colleagues whose son bankrupted his parents by setting up a dodgy business and pulling plug knowing his parents, at the end of their working life, were going down with him. Didn't care and blamed his folks for not having more money ter draw on. Wanting his inheritance early like. They believed they should have done more ter support him! Me gob hit the floor on that one. I've watched as other colleagues give oop their retirement, mortgage their hooses ter support bairns making poor decisions. And then fall inter debt or have ter keep working when it falls apart and work while their health falls apart.

Chief

Then in me own family, at the start of the new year our chief (family patriarch - christian ter his core), asked Mrs Belgo ter forgive her niece fer stealing ten grand from oos eleven years ago. Aye, we said. When lass puts herself oot of front of our house with a mat over her head and explains why she did what she did and where the money went to (It's a Samoan thing). See, I believe folk should take responsibility fer their actions. If I stole ten grand I would be in court. Why should it be different rules joost because its yer bairns or family? Why should we forgive bad behaviour, when the person behaving badly doesn't change? Doesn't care? Another niece almost caused her da ter have a heart attack because she got pregnant, said she weren't, was, boot lied even as her belly swelled. When her da, as above christian ter core, family honour, shame etc, confronted her and her pregnant belly no floppy jumper could hide, she still lied! Claimed immaculate conception. Twelve years on, two grandchildren, she has been well and truly forgiven, boot, never, ever took any responsibility fer the grief and pain she caused her parents then. The irony were that this girl had stayed under our roof eighteen months before she became pregnant. Her da, the piller of his church, said she moost of got pregnant oonder our godless, communist roof. Mrs Belgo snorted she were not an elephant an it would be truly a miracle if yon pregnancy could run eighteen months. Moost be twins. The logic were lost on her stupid brother, who like most men look ter blame others fer faults of their bairns.

Forgiveness versus blindness. What is behind this belief that loyalty ter yer family and yer blood ties are more important than anything else in the world? That being a parent means sacrificing yer health and resources for bairns who squander such things and then don't respect you enough ter care for your well-being?  It got me thinking, as long before the friendship with me marrer developed, he had thrown at me that I would not oonderstand, as I didn't have bairns. He has three. Although I raised one step-bairn from age of four and another from 14. Boot they were not me blood! Therefore, what did I know?

Well, as it happens - a lot. Aye, I chose not ter have bairns, before I found I could not anyway. When I were 30, due ter a genetic condition doctor wanted ter test me sperm for fertility. The result were that there were so few live uns, they could talk ter each other by name. Chances of impregnating an egg? Zilch. Boot, it made no difference as I did not want bairns. It may have been different had I met Mrs Belgo twenty years earlier, boot we were different folk then, an' I were still trying ter deal with dysfunction - family dysfunction and including the utter shite talked aboot the importance of blood ties, genes and their place in a rational wurld. As spouted by me dad and me two brothers.

The effect of good step-parenting

My own parenting were not a success. I raised two step-bairns. They received all my support as they grew oop. One I raised fer 17 years. It were turbulent, boot they became an independent and confident adult. Intellectually far smarter than oos. When I left their mum, contact was eventually cut. The same argument, "yer were me step-dad, boot not blood". Fer me, it sounded like an easy way ter make a hard-choice. Their ma needed them more than they needed me in their life. Aye, folk said hang in there, they'll come around. Yer have ter keep giving support even when yer joost taken a kicking. Aye, fer a child boot not an adult. An adult should know when they have done wrong, if not, they may never know. And what then? I've always lived by judging a person by actions and not words. My actions were that for seventeen years I raised a child, not perfect, boot I made sure I was there for them and in their corner. I did the best I could. Their action were it did not amount ter enough to continue on. Not blood. Their own da, who were rarely there to give support, is still in their life and can do no wrong. Or is at least forgiven. Me? I don't count. Blood see.

The other princess

The second un has been in me life fer 14 years. They are not an easy bairn ter raise boot nearing the end of their twenties I see them starting ter make adult choices and decisions and standing on their own two feet. They expect nowt of oos as parents, except when the shite hits the fan, then yer provide enough support ter get her back on her feet and hope she learns. Its been a mix of tough love and second and third chances gone wrong. Boot for this bairn, she gets forgiveness each time there is a glimmer of insight inter her behaviour. For her, her male bloodline is a non-issue. Raised by her mum, then with me, she see her da for what he is - absent, uncaring and full of hot air. Their ma's line is where she sits more comfortably and ironically my brother, who she (the princess) wishes were her real da. He's not complicated, he doesn't lecture or confront her etc. Boot Samoans, in general, see family as those who raised you. In general.

Are they any less my bairns because they are not my blood. No. It were my sweat and toil that went inter parenting. I don't regret either being in my life or the one making her choice ter go her own way. The best thing I can give them as a parent is that they can stand on their own two feet, make mature decisions and where they fook-oop, take responsibility, deal with the consequences, learn and not make the same mistake again. Aye, I see bairns raised like that turning inta fine adults or at least their own person.

Flemish ter core

See, I grew oop fer a time with a father who lectured me endlessly about the importance of me family name, the Flemish genes - his genes. He were a lonely an' bitter man living in a foreign land (England). He was looked down on boot thought he were better than most of the English. After all, he liked ter claim he were descended from Vikings and look what they did ter the smug English! He didn't drink or gamble boot smoked like a chimney. He barely ate. He barely slept, had nightmares. He were not comfortable in his skin.

He had four children and a long dead wife. Three of the children were boys, so in his mind his seed, the future of his bloodline were safe. Boot only one boy procreated. This one also had four children and three were boys - boot none who have produced bairns and it is likely his or my dad's blood-line, leastwise the family name will die oot. Now a lot of folk believe in the laws of nature, aboot the strongest survive and all that shite. Me da was the strongest male I've ever encountered. Cruelly, coldly scientific, rationale, a communist and trade unionist ter boot. He believed in scientific destiny. He had the will-power of a steel hawser. He never took a step back when confronting injustice. He had a brain. Logic that sliced like a knife, wurds were his preferred weapons, boot his fists and feet were equally likely to win an argument, particularly when he was younger and when raising his headstrong sons. Aye, if yer stood oop ter him, or lost an argument, oot trotted the judgement "Yer no son of mine!" Families, eh! That he could be a communist, survived the nazis and still believe in the tripe of bloodlines made me blood run cold. Still does. The nazis were big on the importance of blood and heritage. Nationalism is all about this tripe. Im better than you because of where I am from. My family first, the rest of you can hang. It's why I think it is a dangerous crock of shite ter spout.

And ter be frank there were times when I were happy if it were ter be the case that I was not my father's son. Me oldest brother, the intellectual always said I was a Chinaman's (I was born with jaundice) or me ma had shagged the milkman as I was as thick as two short planks. Why he thought a milkman was likely ter be thick is another matter. Racial superiority? Thinking yer better than other folk. All bollocks. Not ter be me da's like, or related ter me elder brother was at times, not the insult they intended boot a bit of a gift. Part of not wanting ter have children were aboot not wanting ter be like me da. All the battering, the game-playing, the over-inflated importance and male-line family pride. His definition of what a man were. Not a sheep, boot a lone wolf dependent on no one. Aye, well I knew all aboot howling at the moon. It were a fierce time being raised by sooch a man and it took me a long time ter work oot what it was I learned from him. I was 14 when he died. I went wild. At 15, I left school and ended oop living on the other side of the world from England. I was a dick-head, possessive, a shite lover and bad at keeping intimate relationship. I also thought I was superior because of where I came from. Part of what saved me was having friends. See from the ages of four ter eleven, I didn't have friends. A combination of institutional care and that I was unlikeable, a mess. I lied, I stole, I cheated, I lived only ter survive and in a bad way, did, joost. When I look back, I don't like the person I was. But as an orphan, cut off from me siblings, I had ter learn ter stand on me own feet. These were hard lessons. Making and keeping friends were another lesson learned.

Its a family affair

As a communist, I know the stupidity behind this blood-line argument. Its why communism set oot ter breakdown the shackles of family, as well as religion, the other toxic force. It's not that family is not important. More important is facing it full on. See it fer what it is, warts and all. Instead of continuing a dysfunctional family, find ways ter repair the family connections. Dysfunction, as I see in my family, continues generation after generation. We, all four kids were scarred by it. Yer can't joos accept it because it's blood. If yer do, nowt changes. If yer treat yer kids with respect and they don't return it, hold them ter account. Otherwise how do they learn? How do they change? See joost because the sperm hits an egg don't make yer a natural parent. Yer have ter work at it. learn from yer mistakes. Improve. Learning from mistakes is ter know what they are and face oop ter them. Sometimes the decisions yer make as a parent, the actions yer take are hard. Tough love. Boot we shy away from them because it is hard to hold those we love most ter account. Boot not doing so means nowt changes. When yer die, they live on, what they learn they pass on ter their bairns. An' if it is the book of excuses, never my fault, never able ter admit wrong-doing, yer end oop with parents teaching their bairns these values. Yer not responsible pet! Joost carry on with tantrums and thinking yer better than anyone else.

Friends can help yer with this stoof. Ter make sense and give a bit of a sounding board. To let you hear what yer might not like. As long as it is done with love and respect.

I acknowledge some boomers were, generalising, overall crap parents. We came oot of being raised with blind obedience. We were not great on setting limits on our bairns. We wanted ter stop the battering which were good, boot setting limits and encouraging discipline - there I think we failed. We also had it good. Free education, housing, health access and jobs with career paths. From that we are, on the whole (except if yer are a woman, separated or raised bairns) we became resource rich, mortgage free, good superannuation, longevity with reasonable health. We also told our bairns they could have a better life than ours while taking away the society we had grown top in replacing it with user pays and creating a divisive two tiered of have and have not. It is no wonder some of our bairns think entitlement is a right and some feel ripped off and angry. Boot in me line of work, I see a lot of boomers doing all they can ter look after their parents as they age and die. Not so much their kids looking after them mind. Blood and family lines is funny stuff.

A man's best friend ..

And everyone's best friend

Me great, great nan blind and still kind

Darwinism has a lot ter answer for and the way folk interpret biology and the passing on of blood and family. Not ter mention christianity. See men believe it is their blood line that is passed on and continues the family line. Mitochondria, the vital powerhouse of our cells*, is what makes oos-oos. It is passed on through women by women. Only women, Not the male line. For all of me da's posturing and bragging, my family line is my ma's. Geordie, North of England, descendants of reavers (border folk with a bad reputation joostly earned), enough mariners ter salt me blood and add in a dose of Fenian, a lot of Scots, communists and socialists an yer have strong lineage that continues ter today. Sadly the political side died with the last generation of Tyneside workers. And a hopeless love of a football team that sometimes gets it together ken lift yer hopes of better times. Those are the values I have tried ter pass on to me step-bairns. Ter treat folk with respect, be honest, work and do things fer yer community and those who have less or have fallen on hard times. Every Saturday night me great gran used ter set a place at the table ter feed someone who was alone or not travelling well. She had twelve bairns herself and looked after other family members before their were a welfare state. She were a christian and a socialist and our matriarch. At least some of her kids and descendants (and I'd like ter think me) carried that on. Although in my case ah have nowt ter do with religion.

Fer all of me da's posturing only ma poor sister, childless, could have passed on his bloodline (or his mother's ter be precise). And he disposed ma sister claiming she were never his! She were not strong enough, had mental health issues, so he kicked her oot. Aye, boot what is passed on is the stoof like, she were a dead ringer fer him, as were all four of his bairns, we all have our da's looks. As fer his name? In Belgium it died oot, him being the only one ter have bairns in his family. Which were in decline before second war. His male grandchildren don't have bairns and are unlikely ter do so. His only granddaughter is joost 15.

Me sister

So what is passed on through the male line appears mostly irrelevant in the 'survival of the species'. Boot what men pass on through parenting, tellin' oos sons what it is ter be a man or leading through fists, ter show might is right. That frames bairns and their view of the world. Aye it took me a long time ter work oot the batterin' me da gave oos, he did when I were a bairn and couldn't fight back. Tha' it were one-sided. No matter what ma brothers said, these were fights I would never win, behind closed doors facing a psychopath.

Boot then, I allus acknowledge there were things he did pass on. He were a different man in his work, ootside the hoose. He were political ter the marrow. Allus questioning. Rarely taking a step back. When he finally got a chance at education, he shone. I acknowledge he never had a childhood, living under occupation, being a resistant from the age of 14. He had an equally violent, psychopathic father who died when me da was 13. See how dysfunction recycles? My older brother was the carbon copy of his dad but without children. I cut all contact with him in my twenties and never regretted it. Even when he killed hiself aged 62. I mourned boot did not regret not having him in my life. He were blood, boot bad blood. Aye, unless yer break the cycle, history repeats. Sometimes when bairns do the wrong thing, parenting is aboot standing oop ter them, telling them ter their face and letting them sort oot their shite. Give em help when its needed like when they are young, boot when it is earned after they become adults.

What this has made me reflect on is the damage cause by male pride. How this belief tha' blood is the be all, end all is joost superstition and ego. Aye, a female politician in Queensland attacked the premier because they have no children, like with Julia Gillard. As if the only important function in life is spawning bairns?  Somehow the myth is parenthood is sacrosanct. Parents holy and better than non-parents. Aye, ten years working as a counsellor told me that is a crock of shite. Dysfunctional families are because people don't see parenting as a skill yer have ter learn. That it involves mistakes boot it also means teaching yer bairns ter live a good life, respect others, respect the world and try ter make it a better place fer future generations. Instead we teach greed, narcissism and that yer don't have ter take responsibility fer what yer do and how yer behave. Yer folks will always catch yer no matter what the cost to them for doing so. And forgiveness? Not genuine, more time passed and the poor behaviour buried deep oonder carpet.

My life and having deeper friendships than family ties has taught me different values. I still think of friends I had that were closer than family. David Lamb, Joey Wall, Adam Dale, Pearce, Mike, Red Danny, Diane, Debbie, Anita, Moira, Knox when he were a friend, the two mad Irishmen, Tessa, and the irrepressible saxophone playing solo dad. Most faded back in time boot still important. Giving me lessons I have not forgotten. I thought what matters most is how decent folk are, can be. Tha folk who want ter make the wurld a better place fer all, not joost their kids, are the ones we should admire. Aye and though I love my surviving brother and my sad, ailing sister, and I adore one of my nephews, I would not sacrifice my wife for any one of them. My wife is my best and closest friend. She is my rock, my moral compass, my real family. I don't always like it, boot I listen to her. She tells me stoof ter me face. I moan and whinge boot most of the time she is right and I learn. Likewise, I am not scared ter tell her ter her face if I think something she is doing or has done is wrong or misguided. These are when they occur, hard conversations boot based on mutual respect. An' I stand back a healthy distance as she were taught ter box by her older brothers, once a champion, and she has a mean right cut.

Red Danny in his postman's coat

Mrs Belgo

One of the areas we regularly discuss is blood ties. She comes from a culture where family is all important. Where as an outsider I see the hypocrisy and sham that passes as family, kith and kin caring or looking out for each other. Where tradition and protocol are used to cover all sorts of selfish and greedy behaviour and where sometimes it works and you see what a functioning family can achieve when they act out of respect and true love for one another. (It is a culture that over-rates sentimental love that would put Hollywood ter shame). By being up-front to one another Mrs Belgo and I can talk aboot our differences without falling oot.
We give each other support when it gets rough sooch as when she was forced by her elder brothers ter take control of burying a particularly toxic family member. They didn't want ter get their chiefly hands mucky so little sister, the family brains, was put oot on a limb to steer through the extended family politics. Of course she would never be good enough! Her bloodline (she has a different da), puts her on the back foot and that since becoming a mature adult she has steadfastly refused ter play the family game (of thrones - a verbal version beloved ter this culture infused with doses of hypocritical christian cant). It is never easy on her.

pearce in london

The lovely Deborah

A banana with the irishman

So, ter say I don't oonderstand the role blood plays in humanity is disrespectful. I've been on the receiving end of the argument most of my life. At 64 I get it, boot I think it is crap used to cover poor behaviour, bad decision making and being a doormat ter bairns in particular, who think nowt of walking over other folk and particularly their parents. There is nothing sacred in children. The world is full of bairns. Many without parents or families. Most would not know if they are attached ter a blood-line or not. Like religion, the sacredness of family is a myth of its own making, yer have ter believe in fer it to continue. Durst it make the wurld a better place? No, more like the opposite. It wastes resource. It sacrifices our sense of who we are and what is important in life. I come back to, following it blindly does not make the world a better place and humans are running out of time. To keep holding onto something when it corrodes will only hasten our demise. Me I like the idea of all of oos being family being descended from mitochondrial Eve, from Africa 200,000 years ago.* If only I could dance...

Friends for ever

*Bill Bryson - The Body" (2019) This is a great read on science and our understanding of the human body and its functions (and limitations). It outlines women and their role in our genetic make-up and how we sell them short as unimportant. Time for a change. The stuff on mitochondria is in the chapter 'Into the Nether Regions' pages 283-284. It also has the great sentence "For most of recorded history we have known shockingly little about women and how they are put together." I concur Mr Bryson. Mrs Belgo Geordie is frequently a mystery that durst not diminish over time. And Mr Bryson talks aboot our descent from one source, oot of Africa.