Families, Tribes, Whatever ... We All Need Them

Dedicated to Brian C. Kevic

When I was in my mid-twenties I read A Different Woman by Jane Howard. It really affected me. Now I barely remember it, but it was the first (the only?) time I wrote a fan letter to an author. Somewhere I still have the South Carolina picture postcard from Jane Howard wishing me well.

Wishing me well. Years later, I can look back and know that I did well, in part from something I learned from A Different Woman. Forty years later what I remember from Jane Howard is learning the Yiddish word “mishpocha.” According to one definition mishpocha is an “entire family network or relatives by blood or marriage (and sometimes close friends).” The term stuck with me then and stays with me today. But, when I read the book I was new to Washington, DC, and very much alone and on my own.

A West Coast transplant, I needed people who were more than friends or as good friend Louise Malone would say, I needed an “anchor.” Long before I got into aviation, I knew I couldn’t fly solo. I needed people, people who could substitute or who were nearly family.

On the surface, I was independent and self sufficient, but I needed that feeling of belonging. You know, the saying about family being people who have to take you in. I wanted to be taken in. I think Louise saw through my many excuses, reasons, artifices for why I needed taking in. But she took me without question.

I was fortunate. I found not one but two Maryland mishpochas. I had invites to family gatherings, holiday meals, birthdays, vacations and more. I contributed in my way. I took baby pictures, wedding photos, schlepped a projector and 16mm movies to the mountains, and became famous for my southern fried chicken (secret: buttermilk) and my pecan pie (secret: talk it up).

I had surrogate siblings, parent figures, cousins and more. With no nieces or nephews from my siblings, as my mishpocha sisters and brothers married and started families, I got to be an honorary aunt.

That is indeed an honor.

All the while, part of me knew I was always navigating a firm and fine line between being guest and family, but, boy, did my heart soar when weeks before her death one mishpocha matriarch introduced me as daughter.

Forty years in to learning the word, mishpochas are on my mind. Last week, I visited the 93-year-old matriarch and patriarch of one of my near clans. This week, an almost nephew from the other clan died suddenly. I was on the to-call list.

I grieve the loss of a gentle man who I well remember as the sweet boy in my early photographs of family gatherings in the cabin near the Appalachian Trail.  I still miss his father’s hearty laugh and fondness for my pecan pie.

Mishpochas have enriched my life. After marrying and having children of our own, mishpochas gave our daughters near cousins, almost aunts, Dutch and non-Dutch uncles, and a feeling of community and belonging that is so missing from our modern fractured and fragmented lives.

As Jane Howard put it, “Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family:  Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.”

Yes, you do. Yes, I do. Thank you, Maryland mishpochas.