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Happy Days Essay Remember that old television show Happy Days?† Well, when I was in the fifth grade I remember thinking, My family is like ‘Happy Days’. We were happy and there was plenty of laughter and love to go around. Furthermore, like the television show, there were plenty of struggles and some kind of dilemma to solve before the night was over. No matter the problems the day may have brought, I always went to bed feeling happy, safe, and loved. Unlike the majority of kids in my fifth-grade class with broken homes, I just knew that my parents would be together forever. After reading Bradshaw on: The Family by John Bradshaw, I can see now that I may not have had a perfect family. My mom and dad got married in 1962 when she was just 16 and my dad was 23. She was in high school and he was in the Marines when they met, fell in love, and got married. My dad got out of the Marines just before the Vietnam War and went to work for Union Pacific Railroad. They were married two years before they decided to start having kids. My brother Shawn was born first, then me, and last but definitely not least, my little brother Bobby. We were all two years apart. We grew up in a small house on five acres out in the country. There, my mom had plenty of room for her horses and my dad had plenty of room to groom my brothers into great athletes and dirt bike racers. We were like the average all-American family. We were taught to be proud of our country, to respect our elders and to do as we were told. We enjoyed sports, picnics, the drive-in movies, walks on the beach and trips to Disneyland. We would get together with family friends to barbeque every Fourth of July and set off fireworks. We went camping every summer. We flew kites in March when the wind would start to blow and waited up for Santa to come every Christmas Eve. We watched the ball drop with Dick Clark on television every New Years Eve. Sometimes on the weekends my parents spent time with friends playing cards and dancing while us kids played board games and watched movies in another room. As far as we knew or were concerned, we were the perfect family. In his younger days, my dad looked just like Buddy Holly. He was passionate, loving and hot tempered but would do anything for anyone. He never met a stranger and went out of his way to make a friend wherever he went. He was that guy whom the neighbors would seek out if they needed help with something. My mom was beautiful. She looked like a cross between Sophia Lauren and Jackie Onassis. She had a great sense of humor, was easy going, mild-mannered and could be very stubborn at times. She was nice but unlike my dad, she enjoyed keeping to herself and didnt go out of her way to talk to people. My mom and dad did argue sometimes. Dad would usually yell, but they always worked it out. They both worked hard to provide the best of everything for my brothers and myself. My parents taught us that it was important to work hard and to put pride into whatever job you may be doing, whether it be cleaning toilets or flying a plane. Do your job as if you were doing it for Jesus, is what my dad u sed to say. My dad was the kind of dad who wanted his kids to be the best at everything, especially my oldest brother Shawn. He was always one of the coaches on Shawns baseball and football teams. And of course, Shawn was a great athlete. He was a pitcher in baseball and a quarterback in football and a national champion in flat track motorcycle racing. Bobby was really the more talented of the two, but for some reason, my dad put way more time and energy into my oldest brother Shawn. Bobby was kind of over looked. He always used to tell Shawn that he had to set a good example for his brother and sister. And he did. Shawn got straight As all through school, excelled in sports, and became quite successful in his business career as a project manager in an electrical engineering firm. I can see now that my brother Shawn was encouraged to play the rigid role of â€Å"Hero.† â€Å"Another child will take the role of Saint and Hero, becoming a straight-A student, president of his class and winn ing honors. This person gives the family a sense of dignity† (Bradshaw 33). In a healthy family there may be roles being played but they are flexible and changing. It is dysfunctional for one person to play a rigid role such as â€Å"Hero† and that is what was going on with Shawn. I dont think my family was drastically dysfunctional, or that we really needed to have a hero, but for some reason, my dad felt we needed one. By putting so many demands on my brother to be perfect, he took away his freedom to think, feel, to take risks, and to be his true self. This was a form of the Poisonous Pedagogy (Bradshaw 7) that Bradshaw talks about. â€Å"Children are considered ‘good when they think and behave the way they are taught to think and behave† (Bradshaw 7). This was exactly my dad’s way of thinking. He drilled that into us as children. I think my dad really meant well and wanted us to succeed in life. Even though he drilled this success talk into us, he was still kind and did always encourage us and tell us good things about ourselves. One way he demonstrated this was every morning he would wake me up and sing these words to me â€Å"Hey did you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the world (Charlie Rich)†. It’s funny, I find myself singing to my boys in the morning, and sometimes they get so irritated, just like I used to. I bet someday they will sing to their children in the morning. My mom was really a great mom. She went on all the field trips during my elementary school days. I was always so proud because she was really pretty, and all the boys wanted to sit next to her on the bus during the field trips. She was a hard worker. She worked at the walnut factory during walnut season, often working 10-hour days, and seven days a week. All the while, she would get up early to make us breakfast, and to be sure we had everything we needed for school that day. She was not perfect though. When things would get crazy, and we would argue and fight as most kids do, she would often threaten to leave town and run away. Sometimes she would tell us to go ahead and kill each other or ask us how we would like it if we lived in an orphanage. She would then leave to her room to escape and go lay down. It worked when we were little, but after a few years, we knew that was mom’s way of saying enough. She would often say â€Å"you guys are driving me crazy; you are going to put me in the nuthouse!† I do not think Bradshaw would say that these were effective ways of communicating he would refer to these as â€Å"cause and effect distortions† (Bradshaw 56). This simply means that her statement about driving her crazy is wrong, it is impossible to â€Å"drive† someone crazy. It was, however, better than beating us. One of my favorite memories of my mom is how she would tuck us in every night at bedtime, kiss us softly on the forehead and say our prayers with us; this made me feel so loved and safe. Growing up I could tell my mom anything, and she would not lecture me, she usually just quietly listened. Even though my mother had an ineffective way of communicating, we did end up having a wonderful relationship and became the best of friends. I moved a few hours away from my parents and my mom, and I still would talk on the phone every other day or so. Until she passed away, my mom never missed any of my boys first days of school or any of their sporting events. My younger brother Bobby was the cutest little boy ever created. He actually looked like a little cherub, with blond loose curly hair, big blue eyes, long eyelashes and dimples. My little brother was cute for a reason. That guy could find trouble like no one else and get out of it because of his charming cuteness. We used to joke that he must be like a cat and have nine lives, he was always getting hurt. I spent a lot of time bandaging him up. Now that I look back, I think he was always trying to keep up or compete with his older brother, going full force, not thinking about the consequences of his actions. Bobby was magnetic, and everyone loved him. Bobby did grow up feeling like second best and used to confide in me that he felt like the black sheep of the family. I can see how my dads dysfunctional obsessed relationship with my older brother made him feel that way, for I used to feel the same way too. I do believe that Bradshaw would probably say that Bobby was acting out the scapegoat role (Bradshaw 33), trying to get attention any way he could. Bobby went through some rough patches in his lifetime but with therapy and a lot of hard work, he was able to get straightened out and found his true identity. He still enjoyed living life on edge but this time it wasnt because he wanted my fathers approval or disapproval. He lived life with joy and for himself. Sadly, my brother passed away two years ago while on a mission trip for an orphanage in Mexico. He was struck while riding his motorcycle head-on by a watermelon truck. I can definitely say that in his last few years, he loved life and lived it well and to its fullest. I was the classic middle child. I spent a lot of my time trying to make everyone happy and keeping the peace. I was the middle child just as Bradshaw described, â€Å"Second children naturally relate to the emotional maintenance needs of the system† (Bradshaw 35). I could always sense what people in my family needed, and it made me feel good to help. When my brother would get in trouble with my dad he would call me to help patch things over. I could always tell when my mom needed a shopping or lunch date to vent about her frustrations with dad. I could usually cheer my family up or make things better. I was and still am an eternal optimist. I was tall, thin and tomboyish growing up. I was often told that someday, when I grew up and into those long legs, I would be beautiful. Heck, I wanted to be beautiful now! Oh well, I was good at sports and enjoyed playing whatever was in season with my brothers. All of us enjoyed trying to out run, jump and play the others. There was always some sort of friendly competition going on. I played softball on a team one year and really enjoyed it. My moms friend signed me up and took me to all the practices and games. We won first place that year. My mom worked a lot during softball season, but she still was able to make it to most of my games. Sadly; my dad never came to any of them. I have no idea why I didnt play after that one year, I really liked playing softball. I think because by that time most of my parent’s free time was consumed with my dad and older brothers new interest in dirt bikes and racing. They traveled to different towns to race on the weekends. I enjoyed it sometimes but most of the time I stayed with my grandma. The time I spent with her was a blessing. She would read to me every night. She taught me my time tables, how to make yummy pies and most importantly she told me that I was special. My grandma taught me that God loves everyone the same, no matter who you are or what you d o. She took me to church on Sundays, where I learned other valuable lessons. I learned to be forgiving and how to treat others. I truly believe that everyone should grow up with that kind of love. The kind that you know you can do or be anything, and if you fail you are still special, loved and welcome. I know Bradshaw would have given my grandma an A for helping me to create solid self-esteem in myself. She allowed me the freedom to be me, the freedom to choose, feel, and take chances. No matter what, she would love me for being me. Bradshaw lists the five freedoms and says, â€Å"These freedoms amount to full self-esteem and self-integration† (Bradshaw and Satir 53). This means that when a person is free to be themselves without fear of persecution or rejection they will feel good about themselves and be able to relate to others and the world in a better way. Instead of attending the small farm town elementary school down the road from where I grew up, my parents chose for my brothers and I to be bused to a brand new cultural arts school in the middle of a predominantly African-American neighborhood. At first, it was kind of strange being one of the only few little white girls in class, but it didn’t take long before I fit right in. During that period in time, in the early 70s, integration in schools was being encouraged and my parents thought that we would get a well-rounded education at this new school. My parents sincerely did a considerable job in instilling the importance of a good education in us kids. I got a great education there and learned about many different cultures, which was truly interesting. I also became close friends with a diverse group of people. I graduated high school in 1985 and moved with some friends to Lompoc, California. We held many odd jobs like babysitting and working in clothing stores. The most interesting was our job at a celery packing plant. We were the only two English-speaking people in the plant besides the boss. I learned a lot from those women there, especially about good Mexican food. I ended up moving back home and my parents were pretty happy about that. A week or so later my dad introduced me to my younger brothers best friend, he said, â€Å"Hey Chris, I would like you to meet your future husband.† Oh, my gosh, Yea right! I wanted to kill my dad, how embarrassing. There was no way I was ever going to date a guy younger than me, not cool. He was kind of cute, and after a few months of this guy hanging around staring at me, I decided to ask him out on a date. A year later we were married. My dad may be kind of corny, but he is pretty cool in my eyes for knowing that Lee was the guy for me. My husband Lee is a very patient, kind and loving man. He understands me and allows me to be my true self. We bring out the best in each other. I grew up into a confident, positive, mature person with solid self-esteem. â€Å"The mature person is emotionally free and can choose to move near without anger or absorption, and move away without guilt† (Bradshaw 44). I do feel that I am bonded to my family, yet free to be myself and have my own identity. It did take some work to get over some of the resentment that I had toward my father and older brother. I have a great relationship with both now. And my mom was my best friend up until she passed away twelve years ago from brain cancer. My mom and dad set an amazing example of how to love each other and how to work through problems and not ever give up or never go to bed mad. I do believe that no family is perfect. All people are flawed. Therefore, all families are flawed. I do agree with Bradshaw in that love is a decision, and it takes work and good communication to make a functional marriage. â€Å"A good relationship is based on committed love. It’s not some maudlin feeling-it’s a decision† (Bradshaw 51). I married my best friend, Lee, when I was 21. We have three loving, talented, and well-adjusted sons. After reading Bradshaw on: the Family, I see now that my family growing up was a bit dysfunctional. My parents never elaborated on how they were raised. They never spoke ill words about their parents so I am not sure of the dysfunction they may have experienced in growing up. I am pleased with the way I turned out and still have fond memories of my â€Å"Happy Days† family. Works Cited Bradshaw, John. Bradshaw on the Family: A New Way of Creating Solid Self-esteem. Deerfield Beach, FL: Health Communications, 1996. Print. Rich, Charlie. The Most Beautiful Girl. Charlie Rich. Rec. Dec. 1973. Sun Records, 1973. Vinyl recording. Satir, Virginia. Conjoint Family Therapy. 3rd ed. Palo Alto: Science and Behavior, 1983. Print.