With everything in the news these past two weeks, I’ve found myself thinking about my family, and how, really, everything is connected. Einstein once said, “look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” But I think that he really meant: “ look deep into your family, and you will understand everything better, or realize that chaos is inevitable.”
Physics tells us that everything is related, actions create reactions and forces push and pull. I see that playing out on every scale especially in current events.
My dad held very conservative political views. After serving in the Pacific Theater as a Naval Officer in World War II, he was acutely aware of the devastating effects of war. Our nightly dinner conversations often revolved around our day, current events, and world news. In winter, when we discussed the weather, it was mainly about how much snow we might get for skiing. In summer, it was all about how important rain was for my mom’s rose garden.
I grew up believing communism was not a workable concept, despite its appealing promise of equality. As a seventh-grade student, I was taught that America needed to help South Vietnam hold onto its freedom from communist rule. Sending in our military seemed like the answer and the right thing to do. Watching the draft lottery on live tv in December of 1969 was deeply upsetting, just knowing that boys as young as eighteen could be sent to fight a war so far from home.
As the spring of 1970 approached, my Dad received news that he had been admitted to the Supreme Court Bar. He was to fly to Washington, D.C. for a swearing in ceremony and then was invited to the White House for a reception in the Rose Garden with President Nixon. Of course, my Mom would be joining him for both the ceremony and the reception.
My grandparents were in charge of us while my parents were in Washington. My brother, Harris, had suffered a terrible ski accident in January and was now in a full thigh-to-foot cast, relying on crutches to get around. He had broken so many bones that the surgery required metal rods and screws to hold everything together.
To help pass the time, and ease the boredom and frustration of not skiing, my brothers and I invented a competition to see how long we could balance ourselves on the crutches with our feet pressed against the wall. Harris quickly became the reigning champion despite having to lift and hold his heavy cast, that is until he lost his balance, fell, and broke his cast. My grandfather was perturbed. It was good for Harris, though, because his cast was reduced to just below his knee and included a rubber heel for walking. This newfound mobility, was thrilling, which he took too far when he broke the new cast while out riding his bike. My grandfather had gone from exasperated to completely beside himself.
Meanwhile, my parents missed their flight from Denver to Casper (my grandfather was paged over one of the dreaded white, (bad news) phones at the airport). Needless to say, my grandfather was truly vexed.
Finally, when my parents arrived, my mom was bursting with excitement about meeting President Nixon. But in truth, what delighted her most was simply spending time among the countless beautiful roses. She later remarked that the experience rivaled the famous cherry tree blossoms, truly a gardener’s dream.
My dad passed away before the disgrace and shame of Nixon’s Watergate scandal came to light, but I can still clearly hear him saying, “feet of clay,” a phrase that refers to a hidden flaw or weakness in an otherwise admirable person.
I also remember an offhand comment my dad made one evening at dinner. At the time, I didn’t fully understand it, but his words have stayed with me for years: “The third World War and potential downfall of this country will come from within, we’ll collapse like a third-world country.”
Looking back, I realize my dad’s grim dinner-table predictions weren’t just warnings, they were reminders. Reminders that what holds a family or a country together is resilience and humor, even if the leader of the free world turns out to have clay feet.
Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt, are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End, where they enjoy swimming and bicycling.
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