So my family is rather unique in a few ways, but perhaps the one that differentiates us most from other families I’ve met is our use of language. You see, most families don’t really use “foul-mouthed” language, nor do they discuss topics like sexuality outside of a really serious tone. I find this to be quite disheartening really. I believe you should speak to your parents in much the same way that you speak to your friends (unless you treat your friends like dirt, in which case, don’t). After all, the mark of good parenting is, in my opinion, when you can consider your parents friends instead of just authority figures. Ultimately, there is no such thing as “dinner table language” at my house. My family talks about everything. We discuss politics and often make raunchy jokes (my dad gets a real hoot out of this). To me, that is normal. To many others, that is, well, creepy. It is no surprise then that when we have other families over, the discussions change.
Every year, we have a family reunion for my paternal aunts and uncles. It is a very different atmosphere. Sure, it is quite jovial, but in a more “family friendly” way. Barring just the fact that younger kids are present, there’s also the fact that a good deal of my father’s side is very religious and conservative, where as my family is not. (As an aside, it is funny because my paternal grandfather is actually very liberal, so I guess the apple catapulted away from the tree in this case). I am especially unfaithful. I don’t believe in any particular “higher power” and I don’t really care to believe in any either. Often times, then, my language contains very un-Christian elements. I no doubt upset some of my family members when I threw out even a simple “God dang it”, let alone a classic “Jesus Fucking Christ!”. I felt particularly bad once though when my Aunt Jill had been talking to my grandpa about how she was tired of people saying “God dang it”, and the very next time we were together it slipped out. Back then, before I started using expletives as commonly as I do now, “God dang it” was my most frequently used expression. My Aunt Jill was, of course, a very devout woman, but she was also very polite. She never did correct me on that behavior, but I doubt she approved.
On my mother’s side, things are a bit different. We don’t have routine get togethers, but I do visit my aunts and uncles. Some of her brothers are very devout, like my Uncle Gary. Her parents were both pretty strict Christians, so one would expect their children to share some of those sensibilities, but really my Uncle Gary (and yes, Uncle is capitalized. It’s basically a part of his name now.) was the only sibling who followed the same path. The others vary, but almost all of them go to church and such. The most free-speaking of her brothers is probably my uncle Jeff or my uncle Tim. Uncle Tim definitely has a sailor’s mouth, but he was always more strict on what his children could or couldn’t say, where as my uncle Jeff basically gave up trying to regulate those notions (similarly to my parents; I couldn’t swear when I was little but now I do pretty casually, and they just accept it, probably out of fatigue). My uncle Neil and my uncle Jimmy don’t really talk like that, however, unless they are around their other brothers. Since my mother was the little sister to all five boys, most of them became accustomed to talking in more Christian tones around her, lest Grandma Robbie Jean give them a whooping (truly different times, those were). Needless to say, getting that eclectic bunch together can result in all sorts of hay-wire. It’s always a good time though.
However, my biggest “oh shit” moment was probably younger into my youth. We had all of my mom’s side over for a picnic of their own, which we didn’t do often. Anyways, when I was younger, the insult/expletive “retarded” was making rounds through middle schools across America. It became a very common phrase to be heard in the hallways, and of course it really stuck with me. Something about the word just sounded, I dunno, funny? I ended up using it pretty often, but my mother always reminded me not to say it around my aunts and uncles because one of my cousins, Josh, is mentally handicapped.
Now I never meant any ill-will to him in the first place by saying it. It was just a catchy term for people you disliked. However, at the picnic, I called something “retarded” and a hush fell over the table. I awkwardly apologized, but by that point most people were just trying to ignore it. I didn’t have a feeling of guilt necessarily. To me, it was just a word and not worthy of being deemed so painful. I did have guilt, perhaps, on an interpersonal level. I was more worried about what the rest of my family thought about me after saying that comment than I was about the feelings of others, which is selfish, but also what you’d expect from a middle school-aged boy.
In general, I am socially awkward. I tend to say inappropriate things that to me are funny, but to others are offensive. I don’t mean any harm with my words, but I often forget the environment I am in or I misjudge the character of whom I am speaking too. Sometimes I say things that are meant to be funny, and they come out hurtful. I just lack that level of intuition to know what to say and whom to say it to.
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