During my lifetime, I have been fortunate enough to experience certain luxuries that later generations never will. For example, I was able to attend a New Kids on the Block concert, sing along to Vanilla Ice on the radio, sport neon clothing with leg warmers, hair spray my bangs higher than anyone thought possible, and sing along to the ìSaved by the Bellî theme song. Although I continue to hold all of these things close to my heart, one aspect remains of the 80ís and early 90ís to which I am still able to relate: a series of movies featuring the Griswald family were brilliantly produced, widely recognized as the National Lampoonís Vacation movies.

    The Griswald family does not exactly fit the cultural stereotype for a ìnormalî family, as they have many occurrences that ìwould only happen to themî; however, my family and I beg to differ, as we too, have nicknamed ourselves the Griswalds. Within the movies, Mr. Griswald likes to take situations to the extreme: whether he is covering every square inch of his house with Christmas lights, driving across the country to a theme park without first checking if it is open, or generally taking a vacation ìtoo far,î he always manages to create an embarrassing situation for his family. On the contrary, American culture tends to mold the family into a picture-perfect ideal: living in a nice house with a white picket fence, a dog running around the yard, and smooth-running lives. However, my family has proved that this atmosphere can be a ìcover.î Smooth would not be an adjective that I would use to describe our daily routine. My sister and I used to cringe with embarrassment at the circumstances of our lives, but we have learned to accept our family for who they are, even if they do not fit the cultural standards of normality.

    I suppose I can begin by explaining the ìOíReilly trademark of timeî that is upheld not only by my immediate family but by my extended family as well. Anyone who knows someone in our family will tell you that we are never on time; even the babies seem to wait a week past their due dates to be born. I was born in Chicago where I spent half of my life and where all of my extended family continue to reside. About ten years ago, however, we moved to a Crystal Lake about an hour and a half northwest of Chicago. Being that we were always the family to host parties, we continued to do so despite the drive--I guess we should have expected the results of this decision. Basically, our family members tend to leave ten minutes before the party begins, forgetting the distance they have to drive. Knowing this valuable information, my older brother Sean, who is engaged to be married, has decided that two different sets of wedding invitations will be sent--those to his fiancéís family, and those to the OíReillyís. It has gotten to the point where Sean is going to say the wedding begins an hour earlier on our invitations, just so no one misses the actual wedding ceremony. Does this happen with your average family? I am going to guess that it does not.

    Our abnormalities do not end here by any means. For example, my dad volunteers at our churchís Christmas tree sale every year; in return, he is allowed to take home a free Christmas tree. We tend to make an event out of decorating of our tree, and we could not wait for my dad to arrive home with it this past year. Usually, we tend to get a taller tree, as we have a cathedral ceiling in our family room, where we can place it nicely next to the window. Apparently, my dad wanted to take full advantage of the sale that year, as he pulled into the driveway with a 22-foot tree strapped to the top of the car. It took five of us to drag the tree into the house, and when we stood it up in the center of the room (as that was the only place where it would fit), it scraped the ceiling. Furthermore, it was far too heavy for the stand to hold up, so my dad suggested that we use rope to wrap around the tree, and we could attach the rope to the wall. After much convincing that the rope nailed to the mantle and a huge tree in the middle of the room didnít exactly scream ìMerry Christmas,î my dad finally returned it for a smaller one. I guess that it just goes to show that bigger isnít always better.

    I wish that I could say the stories end here, but I would be lying to you if I did. For instance, about every other year we tend to find an unknown roll of film that needs to be developed around our house. Sure enough, it always ends up containing pictures of my seven-year-old birthday party, featuring Huggy the Clown. Every time this happens, we can expect these results. First of all, I cannot even fathom how many pictures must have been taken at this party. Yes, a clown was there and it was great, but were all of these pictures really necessary? Secondly, how did all of these undeveloped rolls of film manage to get scattered throughout my house? One can go on pondering these questions for some time, but I simply remind myself that we are the Griswalds.

    A final example, although far from the last (as I could go on for days), regards my momís new pride and joy, Bailey. Apparently my mom dreamed of having a macaw bird her entire life, but was never able to have one as a child. Then, once she was married and had children, dogs seemed to be the most appropriate pets to own. However, her yearning for a macaw must have grown, because last summer she finally decided to buy one. Although I have never cared much for birds, I assumed that I would like this pet being that I am an animal lover. Letís just say that this was a very poor assumption. To begin with, he is absolutely HUGE! I was expecting something the size of a parakeet, and was unpleasantly surprised when he turned out to be the size of a small dog. Next, he must be able to sense my fear of him, because he screams in a mocking manner every time he sees me. Bailey is also featured on our answering machine as I am leaving a message, as he is pleasantly squawking in the background. I must have tried leaving ten different messages; he made it quite clear that he intended to be on the machine as well. Needless to say, I could definitely do without the stress of Bailey in my life. However, my mom cannot seem to get enough of this bird. Sheíll bring him outside and allow him walk around on the grass (his wings are cut so he canít escape, as much as Iíd like him to at times), and sometimes sheíll bring him along on car rides allowing him to stand on the passenger seat. My family is constantly reminding her that he is not a dog, as it is clear that others find it peculiar as well when they slow down walking past our house wondering why a bird is ìplaying outside.î Despite our opinion, she still lights up when she sees himóa childhood dream come true, I suppose.

    As much as my siblings and I complain about our often times embarrassing family, I must admit that I would not trade any of them for the world. I have learned to accept that my family is not normal or perfect, and certain things that we do will be viewed as different by society, but it has made me question the cultural ideal of a normal family. So maybe my family is always late, acts impractical at times, and has odd hobbies, but we all do love one another, and know that we will always be there to support each other. Never have I questioned the love we share, nor felt alone in life; they have always and will always be there for me. To me, that defines a normal family--one filled with loving, caring, and supportive individuals.

    Family structures have changed drastically in the last couple generations, and can be clearly seen by looking at the contents of current families. Due to the high rate of divorce, many people have stepparents and siblings, as well as half-brothers and sisters. Does this not constitute normal? It seems that according to the cultural stereotype for a normal family, normality is becoming extinct. The fact is that no two families are alike, hence making it impossible to define a normal family. Despite this, however, our society continues to do so, as no one wants to be viewed as different; therefore, people try to ensure one another that they are normal. After all, donít all children go through a stage of life when they are embarrassed of their family? I have seen many of my peers follow the same cycle I have in regards to my family: you adore your family when you are a young child, are embarrassed by them through adolescence, and finally learn to appreciate them for who and what they are when you are a young adult.

    Upon coming to this realization, I have simply learned to laugh at my family and our unique ways. After all, every family has its own characteristics that define who and what it is, and if we are labeled the Griswalds, so be it. I must admit, however, that it was always comforting to watch the National Lampoonís movies, as they helped me to feel right at home.