Monkee Love

Meeting your Family

Deep down at heart, Mike had always put his family first. Down south, if you're not part of the problem, you're part of the family and shown great respect and hospitality. Thanksgiving seemed like the perfect time to bring him in as "part of the family". For a specimen like Mike Nesmith, you sure were shivering. You shook in the car all the way home to the point of turning down his spare coat. "Darlin', you came up with this brilliant idea as a way for us to all meet over a big feast of family and friends. I'm right here every second, right by your side. Let's go in and have some chow." Mike lets you in first like a perfect gentleman. It all smells hot and greasy inside. The kitchen acts as a furnace for the house and your frozen cold mitts. It all seems right as rain. Your father and uncle are huddled in front of the television. Aunt Beatrice is fussing about the biscuits while she mushes her fingers in the stuffing trying to find her ring. Your mother catches a glimpse of you while she wrestles the twins down in a tickle war. You come in and save her from her ultimate defeat. "Time-out, boys. Your cousin's home and needs a kiss." Mike pecks your cheek. "Does that count, Madame?" Your mom gives you and Mike a hug and takes  your coats. "Mike, I've heard nothing but blessings about you over the phone. You must be treating her right." "I wouldn't treat her any other way, or my mother would kill me." The scent of bubbling gravy welcomes you into the kitchen. "Hi, Aunt B. I'd like you to meet Mike." She wipes the flour and sweat from her brow. "How do you do? Just call me Aunt B. Everyone else does." Mike takes a look around the kitchen and breathes in the smell of the corn casserole. "It looks like you've been cooking up a storm! Do you need any help with the potatoes, green beans or anythin'?" "As a matter of fact, the recipe for the potato fries went for a swim in the fryer by mistake and I can't make it out anymore. I had to throw it out. If you could read it to me, that would be great." "Actually, your niece makes them just the way I like them best. Maybe she could help you." "Thank you! I've been up on my feet all day with everything else." "Well, she said you taught her everything about the kitchen." "I did. I did. She's a fine cook just like her auntie." "Are you sure you don't want me to introduce you around?" "No, I can take care of myself. If they're anything like you, I'm sure I can handle it. This farm boy is going to meet the horses, sheep and chickens." He hollers a grand "Yee-Haw!" and slips into the living room. The television has ended the parade and the men have switched over to the football match. It's the Patriots against the Colts in a rip-snorting tackle twenty yards away at the third down. Your uncle Kevin looks up at Mike over his Sprite. "Hello, I'm Micheal Nesmith." Your father shakes his hand. "Hey, you're that new guy that's making my little girl go ga-ga, right?" "Right" The three of them sit down and tentatively watch the players. They hit it off when the ref makes a bad call of assault in the fourth down. From the kitchen you can hear them yell out their plays to the teams, jump off their seats at the touchdown and clap high-fives like old friends. The little ones start to get curious about him. The twins start asking him about his car and try to convince him to teach them how to rope a pig. Mike may not have been a rodeo star, but he tries to show them how they wrap the rope around the back feet. They end up in a no-win wrestling match scrambling to pin the other one's legs together. They cyclone around  him until he laughs it off and stands up. You and Aunt B set the table. Everyone is gathered around the magnificent display of food. As you settle next to Mike, you suddenly remember the morning grief. You bow your head with the rest. A segment sparks your interest about "old and new friends coming together to share in this banquet. You give his hand a squeeze. He answers the worry in your eyes with a simple smile and a nod. "Speaking of banquets, let's eat! Dig in, everybody!" Amen.

In the world of Peter's mind, everything is colorful and unique. Everything happens for a reason, even if it isn't clear or easily understood. It was by chance at the park that you all met up. You and he were walking your dog together when your Doberman, Elliot happened to see your parents settled together holding hands on a nearby pigeon poop-crusted bench feeding the birds. You feel a new energy pull you by the leash and stumble behind trying to keep up. Peter jogs behind you, "Where are we going?" You see your parents and skip the next heartbeat with a gulp. "I think it's time to visit grandma and grandpa." It was all a pleasant surprise, really. Your father shook his hand sturdily and calloused like they were old friends from the navy. His eyes stood up at attention. "You've got quite a beard coming in." "Sometimes I like to grow it out. It makes me look more mature." Your mother sets down the bag of bread crusts and chimes in. "It's nice to meet you, Peter. Where did you meet?" "It was at a yoga class down the block." Dad re-enters the conversation. "Oh, that thing where you stretch yourself all over and pretend to be trees and animals?" "Yes" "I never thought that stuff did anything but turn you into a pretzel. Now, weight lifting and sports you see on television, that's how you get fit." Peter sheepishly blinks with a shake. "I was never one for competition." Your father shrugs his broad shoulders in question. "Why not? It's good for you. It gives you a sense of pride, let out your anger." You cut in. "We prefer to discuss our feelings and let them out in the open before we get angry. That way there aren't any hard feelings, right, honey?" You cuddle him with one hand wrapped around the dog leash. Elliot sits at your heels watching, waiting for the next bird to chase. Peter elaborates a bit on his philosophy of non-violence in a manner such as that of an esteemed college professor. It really is remarkable compared to how he was always portrayed on television as being so dim-witted. "I admire the principles illustrated in Hinduism and Buddhism because they don't focus on worshiping a god, but looking inward and becoming not only one with your environment, but also with yourself so that you can share peace with each other. We can't do that if we're at war, killing and bombing other nations just to prove who can build the bigger gun. Even the 5th commandment states, 'Thou shalt not kill'. By allowing ourselves to become too much involved in what weakens those around us to make ourselves look mighty, we're being nothing but bullies picking on the younger kids. We would be bullying the smaller nations. I prefer peace and only wish upon others what I would want them to wish for me too. Let's share love together and find a sense of world compromise. Will you compromise with me, Sir and Madam?" Your father is bewildered for a second, then takes to his feet. "I think we could take things slowly. I mean, I'm not going to give up on meat and baseball, but you seem like a man who really believes in what he's saying and I'll try to listen and see what you're trying to tell me. Alright?" "It's a deal, Sir." "I like that in a guy. He calls me, Sir." They shake hands long and firmly. Your mother stands up and hugs him. she speaks up, "Why don't they two of you sit and stay a while? We'd like to discuss Independence Day plans with you." Papa cuts in, "Yeah, would you want to cook steaks or corn on the grill?" Peter takes it in stride as you both sit down to make the arrangements.