Jenna Zaidman: Blog 1 – This I Believe
I believe in brunch. When I was a child, my little-suburban family was as cliche as it gets. We went on family trips exploring almost every amusement park in the United States, watched each other’s soccer games, went to brunch at The Great American Diner on Sundays, and spent hours clenched together in a mini-van on our way to Florida via I-95; we had a lot of memories together. If you drove past our grey stucco house, you would see our Razor scooters in the driveway, my electronic Barbie Jeep on the front lawn, our playground in the backyard, and yes, my mom did drive a mini-van, and yes, she did have the white stick-figured family decal on the back of her car.
But, if you were ever to walk inside our home, nothing was as it seemed. This is where I learned one of my strongest beliefs; never to judge a book by its cover.
My father, born and raised in Kishinev, Russia, had a child before he met my mother. Gimel, my dad’s first son, is 10 years older than me. Gimel lived with me, my mom and dad, and my brother for about 10 years, until my father told him to “pack his bags and leave.” I am a child of two, me and my brother. But, in reality, if we count my half brother, I am a child of three. But, if we count my step siblings, I have six other siblings. As you can tell, my parents have had several marriages, including romances and relationships that I have experienced firsthand, along the way.
Obviously, I grew up in a pretty abnormal household. My parents were both married before they met each other. They are currently separated and working towards a divorce, but it has been almost four years, and they still haven’t worked towards an agreement. My parents split is easily one of the messiest, drawn out divorce’s I have ever witnessed.
I have sat in numerous court rooms watching my mother and father fight each other for what they believe is “theirs.” I have watched my own grandmother testify against me, saying that I hit her. I have had a restraining order against my own father, and he has had his own restraining order against my mother. I have not only seen my parents part ways, but I have seen my whole family separate, slowly, but surely.
As of this past year, my parents decided it was best that they sold my childhood home in Langhorne, Pennsylvania. It was definitely one of the hardest things I had experienced, being as it was the home I grew up in, and had so many memories in. Of course, some of the memories weren’t the best to think about, but the ones that were good, were the ones that made me never want to leave. It was comfortable. It was easy. Everything I knew was there. I knew where the closest McDonalds was, and I knew the fastest route to get any where I needed to go.
My mom moved in with her boyfriend in Warrington, Pennsylvania, and my father moved in with his mother in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And although this change was hard for me, it was the best change that could have happened to my detached family.
After the move in September, my parents started talking to each other rationally. They split everything in our own home, and they were considerate about giving the things they bought together, to each other. I was already back at school in the midst of the move, so the only knowledge I had on the move, was from my mom and brother. One random October day, I received the most surprising call of my life.
I was in class, and my phone rang, and it was from my brother Rob. I left the lecture hall and went in the hallway to answer his call. Before I even finished saying “Hello,” my brother interrupted me and said, “Jenna, you’re never going to believe what mom just told me…” I was hesitant to hear what he had to say, being as my mom is a one-of-a-kind woman, and is known for saying a lot of things just to see people’s reactions.
“Rob, I’m in class… Is this really something that I need to be leaving class for?” I replied, sternly.
“Fine then, I’m not going to tell you the 411,” he said, jokingly.
He paused and then continued. “Mom and dad are… friends,” he said, dubiously.
The conversation went on for the remainder of my class, until I realized, I had been talking to my brother for 30 minutes about my parents finally being friends after four years, instead of learning about electronic media. I told him I had to go, and that I would call him later. After calling my mom after class to verify the news, I had found out it was true, and that I was seeing my father for the first time in four years, outside of a court room.
Over break, my mom, my brother and I drove to a diner that we haven’t been to in almost two years. My mother asked the hostess if our guest had arrived, and the hostess guided us to our table. Sitting at the table, all alone, with a smile from ear to ear, was my father. On December 26, 2012, my family sat together at the table, eating brunch like we used to, without the slightest bit of attitude or feeling of hostility… and most importantly, without attorneys.