The DHX: The Doughtie Houses Exchange

By Katherine Shirek Doughtie

Jill has mentioned Little Miss Sunshine in this blog, and I was lucky enough to catch it on HBO the other night after work. While all of it is completely delightful, it’s the ending that always makes my eyes well up.

G used to laugh at my choice in movies to watch when I’m depressed. I would invariably choose extremely deep, depressive movies, my favorite being the Richard Burton/Liz Taylor version of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.”

And I realized, when watching Little Miss Sunshine, that — despite the obvious external difference in those two movies — that the core reason I watch is the same. They are both about unshakable bonds between people.

The biggest betrayal in the visciously dysfunctional George and Martha union is when George stops buying into their collective fantasy, when he backs out of the pacts and stops playing along with their mutually sick game. Little Miss Sunshine flips the situation when all the dysfunctional parts of that wonderfully crazy family suddenly come together to affirm that it’s OK not to have a clue.

In both cases it’s about two groups, both called “family,” whose bonds are deep, complex and vitally important for their individual members’ well-being. It’s because of this family that the members can survive their own craziness. And when that’s taken away, the integrity of the psyche crumble like dust.

We all have two kinds of families in our lives. I am blessed with several groups of friends whom I love with a deep devotion — friends from college, mothers of kids my kids are friends with, fellow artists. Some of the members of these families I see almost daily; others see very infrequently. But all of them fulfill what, in my mind, constitutes what “family” should be: we give each other love, support, laughter, and the ability to be ourselves.

And then there’s our real family. Dunno about you, but my biological connections have always been a source of concern. This is the George and Martha part of my life, in which a good day constitutes one in which nobody has blown up the other side.

Our relationship with the “other mom” almost always falls into the second camp. But what if we could somehow merge that into the first kind of family?

Being that other kind of family doesn’t mean that the other woman magically morphs into someone perfect, non-annoying, or even particularly functional. It doesn’t mean that you would choose her specifically to be your friend. But she is in your life with you and the way you deal with it is up to you.

You don’t have to have the same solidarity and joy as you find in your chosen family, but there is a relationship between the two of you that can’t be ignored. And, to me, it is somewhat comforting to know there’s another woman in this newly constituted family who also is doing this for the first time, and who also doesn’t have a clue as to how we got here.

Whether we’ve chosen it or not, we’re all on the same stage making asses of ourselves. So turn up the rock ‘n’ roll, dance a little in your soul, give up to the uncertainty… and know you’re in good company.