Unfolding the layers

It’s all in my background

It’s been an intense week: two visitations and two memorial services and a whole lot of reflection over the past. After the second funeral, I found myself sobbing. Not out of grief for a lost friend as much as out of a new understanding about myself.

My father and me in Ohain, Belgium

 It’s taken all of these years for me to comprehend the layers of my life. Specifically, how my birth and youth in Belgium continue to influence my actions. For many years, I thought I lived my life through the lens of my family upbringing. More recently, I’ve discovered that I’m living it through my cultural upbringing as well. My manner, my choices, even my interactions and chosen interests reflect my mother culture as much as or more than my family one. So when I attended the memorial service for my friend from Switzerland whose mother tongue was French, I heard her life as an echo of mine. The traits that made her unique in this American community are those that our European roots gave us.

This has become apparent as well with my daughter. She talks about my parenting— gestures and words and ways of being that came through to her as not right or not normal, though they were reflecting my French language and culture.

At fifteen, in Genval, Belgium

 Growing up in Belgium, I learned to speak my mind freely without fear. Conversations that included many viewpoints argued persuasively did not mean the end of a friendship. I learned to speak in statements and put forth my ideas boldly. I learned to discuss efficiently and also to relax fully. I learned that the process is as important as the end goal, that working for the common good makes a society better and gives everyone an equal footing. I learned that coming together at the table with others means well-prepared food presented aesthetically and eaten slowly. And that lingering around the table for hours afterwards is always the best part.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve seen that how I live my life here in the U.S. is still a continuing reflection of my cultural heritage. It sometimes makes me feel awkward or out of place. And sometimes makes me look at things in a different light than those around me. But I’m okay with that.

If you ever see me waving my hands around, or hear me saying something adamantly or a little out of place or throwing a French word in a sentence or see me kissing a friend on both cheeks, or notice an extra sparkle in my eye when I’m speaking French, yes, that’s my cultural background coming through.

In Bruxelles, Belgium

Thank you for putting up with my cultural quirks. And when you write to me or see me next, feel free to say “Bonjour.”