They are an attractive, affluent family. The father has the muscular, healthy bearing of a serious weekend athlete, the mother is thin and lithe, perhaps a yoga practitioner. Their casual clothing is expensive, from top brand names, and the kids, a girl about 10 and a boy about 8, each have their own Ipad encased in a soft leather protective sleeve. It is a picture book family; the parents bear a slight resemblance to a young Kevin Costner and Christie Brinkley, and the kids could be models for television ads.
But it's quickly apparent that there is some kind of tension here. Mom sits down with the two kids on either side, and Dad offers her a piece of fruit, which she declines with a terse shake of her head without looking at him. She focuses, somewhat defiantly, on her smart phone Twitter or email feeds; her thumb scrolls briskly. He sits down near his family but slightly removed from them, a weariness evident on his face.
Within a few minutes of scrolling on her phone, abruptly, Mom breaks into quiet tears and quickly goes to the restroom to compose herself. I wonder, briefly, if there's been some sort of family emergency back in Texas; perhaps it's worry causing the obvious unhappiness in the little family. But when Mom returns from the rest room, eyes dry, makeup fixed, and lips tightly pressed together, the anger at the husband is clear. She refuses to look him in the eye, and instead draws her children toward her from each side, the universal move of a mother retreating from her husband—nesting tightly with the kids to the deliberate exclusion of the father.
Dad is decidedly miserable, and when he glances my way and see that I've noticed their family drama, he reddens and looks even more woeful. It's impossible to know, of course, but I wonder what his offense was. Am I eavesdropping on one of those entirely normal little moments of family tension brought on by holiday fatigue and too much frenzied activity? Or is this a deeply ingrained family problem that threatens more seriously? Did he forget a camera on the cab to the airport, or is he sleeping with a secretary?
At that moment the announcement comes beckoning families with children to board early. Fifteen minutes later as I board and move through first class on the way to coach, I see all four members of the family sitting across a full row in the luxury section. Mom and Dad are each in window seats far apart, with the kids in the aisle seats. They are still playing games on their Ipads, but I can see now that they're uneasily aware of the tension in their parents, and have focused on their electronics to avoid the discomfort of a family that has ceased to be nurturing.
The reality for this beautiful family is a little ugly right now.
".....nesting tightly with the kids to the deliberate exclusion of the father....." How that phrase takes me back to a former life. It would be so easy to pass judgement on this scene, rather than simply observe and assess as you have done. Sad though this episode is, something in it calls me to thank you for sharing it with us. I hope a loving resolution awaited that family.
ReplyDeleteWell-written, and all-too-familiar to many of us.
ReplyDeleteI so enjoy your glimpses of confined Citizens. To paraphrase what SFM wrote, well done and a tad bit too familiar. I hope it's only a lost camera, but I doubt that's it. Perhaps the trip to Disneyland was an attempt to repair what might be irreparable, and you witnessed the unhappy realized conclusion of that.
ReplyDeleteYour observations, here and in your other Citizen reports, are insightful, heart-warming, sad, funny - wonderful to read. Thanks.
Wonderfully done and very insightful. I, too, wonder what the conclusion of their trip will bring.
ReplyDeleteThere seems so much more to disagree about, uncivilly these days. And to not resolve by retreat to more past times. Or is it all the same; dad not looking up from a newspaper or mom from her crocheting, children squirming around the table, school work untouched.
ReplyDeleteI think that this scene plays out more frequently that we care to admit. You've painted the perfect snapshot of the typical American family. This was a painfully beautiful post. Well done, my friend!
ReplyDeleteWow, this is what I spend all my time in public doing-watching people and wondering what dramas are playing out in their circles. I don't think I could have expressed my observations half so well, though. I loved this.
ReplyDeleteI love airports. There are so many stories going on. I could just sit back and watch all day.
ReplyDeleteYour marvelous observation and reporting skills created a scenario and intrigue of which, sadly, we'll not know the outcome. You are a great people watcher.
ReplyDeleteA sad situation, but a fantastic job of describing it. You are good!
ReplyDeleteIt also goes to show you that it doesn't matter what you wear, or how much stuff you have. Everybody has the same problems (potentially, anyway).
Wonderful description, reminds me of Sedaris's airport observations—but less wry, more sympathetic. The fact that this family is shiny but unhappy is what makes it stand out. They're held up to look at, but also held away; we're kept from fully empathizing with them (at least I am) by their beauty and privilege. A touch of schadenfreude?
ReplyDeleteAn hour and a half away from Valentine's Day, I read and appreciate the counterpoint of your keen observations. Somebody in that family failed to avoid the unforgivable. Let's hope they devote as much attention to family counseling as they do to Yoga teachers and personal trainers. My compliments on your presentation of this tableau.
ReplyDeleteA compelling standout. Real? Real mad. Compulsively lighting a cigarette, Don Draper considers... whether or not... to get a Scotch
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