Give and Take

The power of compromise has almost atrophied in today's society. To look at the national stage, it's clear that for at least the last quarter century, those in power find it more expedient to hold to their positions than to work with the opposition, much less to compromise. What used to be considered civilized give-and-take is now viewed as unforgivable weakness.

Part of it might be the increasing isolation in which we often find ourselves. It is possible, even easy, to go through an entire day without a single human transaction. We have to make an effort to engage with others. As a result, I think we've all become accustomed not only to instant results but also to instant gratification. Anything that doesn't put my needs, and me, first, is unacceptable. We've lost the example of compromise.

Which is why it was so satisfying when, last night, I found myself on the receiving end of it.

For several years now, I've been in a knitting group that meets on Monday evenings. We started at a local chain restaurant and coffee shop, then migrated to a small local coffee shop. We floundered for a while after that shop closed, before fetching up at the cafe of a large chain bookstore.

But six weeks ago, the family moved. We are now much closer to work, and we love our new home. But it also makes the Monday-night gathering a 45-minute drive. I got to thinking about it, and that's quite a haul: an hour and a half in the car for an hour of knitting and good company. As much as I enjoyed the evening, some nights it was just too much. Which is why I had missed the last two weeks.

One of the other members lives out my way, and a third lives about two minutes from the cafe. So when I made my proposition, I knew that it would mean a challenge for the one who lives so close that she could, if she chose, walk to the cafe.

I suggested a coffee shop much closer to me. There would be downsides, but it's probably safer for my budget not to be meeting in a bookstore. To be honest, it was the one knitting buddy who was making all the compromise (is it really a compromise if one side is doing all the moving?).

I worked it out. The new location, while it would mean a 20-minute drive for her, would be 13 minutes away for our other friend and 15 minutes away for me. It couldn't be more balanced.

After a little good-natured grumbling, our knitting buddy accepted. It's going to make my Monday evenings much easier. But more than that, I've been the recipient of a little seasonal grace. Because my friend exercised compromise, we'll be able to have more time together, more time socializing, and more time practicing the lost art of give and take.

Tradition

The structure and the feel of the day have changed, but the sacredness of the gathering remains. It's been close to 11 years since our family started making a point of gathering, all fourteen of us, for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We usually get together a day or two after the fact. 

It's easier logistically for us than for a lot of families who are scattered across the country. The farthest away of us is only six or seven hours from home base in central North Carolina. When we began, the children were toddlers and hugely entertaining to watch. Now they're young adults, or teenagers who have perfected the art of eye rolling. Still, we gather.

For a number of years, we got together at the home of one of our number in Charlotte. A little over a year ago, though, Mom entered an assisted-living facility. She is a survivor of polio, struck just a few years before a vaccine made the disease nearly obsolete, and after seventy years of making one leg do the work of two, her left leg went on strike, costing her her mobility. At the same time, we had to face the reality that she was in early dementia.

So now we get together for a few hours at a local restaurant, which we did this past Friday. Mom was at the head of the table. She didn't talk much or engage much with the rest of us. But she enjoyed her lunch, and the whole time she sat there with a smile on her face. She knew who we were. She could look down the table and see what she and Dad had created unto the third generation.

I'm in my fifties and incredibly fortunate to have my parents still living. Many friends my age have lost their parents long ago. I don't know how much Mom got from the day's gathering - but the smile on her face was genuine. She was surrounded by family who loved her. And that is enough.