Zig Zag # 10

Family.

When most people see or hear that word, they think of their family of origin. The family hand of cards they were dealt. The family they were assigned without being consulted. That kind of family can be a slippery slope to navigate even in the best of circumstances.

But that’s not the kind of family I want to talk about today. I want to talk about the kind of family you choose.

As a writer and an observer of the world, I’ve, at times, found myself in situations where I’m on the outside looking in. In those instances, I’ve felt honored to catch a glimpse of a family you choose or one that chooses you, as the case may be, display such great acts of care. Sometimes this kind of family loves you in a way maybe your family of origin can’t. Or they ‘get’ you in such a deep and meaningful way that for the first time, you feel seen, heard and cared for.

A family you choose usually comes about when there is some kind of common life experience or love of some thing or idea. This bond is just as real as any your family of origin can provide. Especially if you’ve known each other for a long time.

This kind of family is something I’ve observed twice in my life. Both times, it was magical to witness.

One evening when I was living in San Diego, I got a text from a friend I made in the most unusual way. We were both in a trial work experience to see if the company wanted to hire us permanently. It didn’t end up working out for either of us, but once we learned that we both loved 80s and 90s cover bands, our friendship fate was sealed.

This friend texted me on a serene San Diego Friday evening to ask if I was doing anything the next day. She was going to run a cancer fundraiser at her uncle’s sober motorcycle club's annual camping event about 2 hours northeast of San Diego, and she needed some help. An event that is working to fight cancer AND a sober motorcycle club, something I knew nothing about? Of course, I said yes.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t expect this: motorcycles of every stripe, size, model, and brand. Different tented stations all over the campsite. One for food and eating. One for first aid. One for check-in. One for the raffle prizes. A stage for music and announcements. It was clear that this wasn’t the club's first rodeo. As someone who has planned a few events in my day, I was beyond impressed.

But what impressed me most was the camaraderie and brotherhood that was being exhibited. Not only that but also how incredibly kind and welcoming everyone was to two interlopers only there for a day. Especially when we were privy to such a distinct culture within the group. The vests they wore proudly with their call names had deep personal meaning. The laughter from their children and wives. The complex stories they told as I sat down to listen and shared a meal with them. From the brother who was in an accident with permanent injuries, but still showed up every year to the camping event. To my friend’s uncle’s wife who had beaten breast cancer. In such instances, it was clear: this group showed up for each other come hell or high water. They held each other accountable for a sober life, and they treated each other like, you guessed it, family. I left that evening with my heart smiling and my belly full of good food.

The only time I’ve experienced something similar was a few weeks ago. A new acquaintance I had met invited me to a house music festival.

House music isn’t really a genre I’m familiar with, but I’m all about new adventures so I went. Again, I was unsure what to expect.

My acquaintance told me house music came about in the 80s as a response to disco. Black people weren’t allowed in the disco clubs so people started spinning music in their literal houses. Some might argue that the term “house” came from the comings and goings of club enthusiasts at The Warehouse club in Chicago. Records that were played there were labeled “As Heard At The Warehouse,” which was shortened to “House.” Like any good cultural movement, the origins are as storied and varied as the subgenres and regional distinctions that began to pop up.

Regardless, it seems to me, house music was and is a means to bring people together. It’s about love and acceptance and unapologetically being who you are. Everyone is welcome.

That’s exactly the vibe I got at this festival. People were unabashedly kind and welcoming. They shared their food. They danced and sang without inhibition. They were doing them. It was beautiful. It had been a while since I'd witnessed such joy. There is something so special about music and the power it has to bring people together.

Catching a small glimpse of the way the families people choose can make an impact gives me hope. Hope that it is a good thing to let people in. Hope that there are people who show up when you need them. Hope that there are things in this world that can bond us that can be stronger than blood.

Wishing you a zig zag kind of week. Until we meet again.