Everyone's gone, man!

Like a number of Shelter's exquisite details, this line is easy to miss. It is, arguably, the saddest statement in the entire film. Zach's succinct response reveals one of the most heart-rending of human experiences, being left behind. Kirk Cameron movies aside (R.I.P. Andrew Koenig), desertion is especially difficult to endure as a young adult. Those lightning fast years between 18 and 25 usually mean friends are either completing degrees, launching careers, getting married, giving birth, fighting in a foreign land or at war with themselves. No matter the scenario, it's typically played out as far away from home as possible. So much of the American - and modern global - narrative involves saying goodbye to one's small (or small-minded) hometown to fulfill big dreams in the Big City. How difficult it must have been for Zach to see peer after peer leave San Pedro and move on with their lives. His departure being continually delayed by working spirit-crushing jobs, living with an unhealthy family dynamic and filling a parental role abandoned by someone else. The dark cloud of melancholy only seemed to thicken with time. Zach's long-harbored desires to break free from his limited circumstances and pursue his dream of being an artist appeared as dim as the sun on a smoggy day . . . So much for sunny California.

***

I'm still recovering from a wonderfully zany gathering with my family. Sunday dinner is a tradition worth fighting for (and during). Looking back, I've realized that the concept of the "big happy family" is an inspiring, and often tiring, model to reference and not an ideal to worship. Actually, I'm more concerned with the healthy family instead. Even this type of family should only serve as a goal and not become an idol. Agreement among human beings is rare, communication fleeting and harmony elusive. Sure, happiness is great, but it is a natural byproduct of honesty, respect, laughter, anger, support and, yes, pain. Like environmental pollution, dysfunctional relationships are a sad reality of modern life. They should not be excused or tolerated, but they can be viewed in perspective as particularly painful cocoons from which some of the most beautiful butterflies emerge. Life is about struggle. If there is any doubt about this, consult with Mother Nature. One of the hardest realizations I've had is that our existence is mostly about tragedy. (Now, I actually find more joy and peace in accepting this fact than in denying it.) Even if we are blessed with a soulmate, and we are really careful to nurture this loving bond for the rest of our lives, our ultimate "reward" always involves infirmity, senility and mortality. To be sure, life is comedy when we have friends and confidants to recount our indignities to. Life is also a comfort, but only when we have a healthy family to help us deal with harsh truths while they bandage our wounded hearts. Just as with fortunes, some of us inherit our true families through birth. Others, like successful entrepreneurs, create loving families during life. The exceedingly resourceful among us manage to cultivate both. According to Mary Piper, Ph.D. (where would we be without Ph.D.s? - I'm noticing a trend here and promise my next link will be from a licensed esthetician.) in her book The Shelter of Each Other , family is "our shelter from the storm, our oldest and most precious institution and our last great hope."