Family Meetings

I assume that most families (if not all) have meetings of one kind or another. I also assume that most attendees at family meetings don't wish to be there. Or in plainer terms, the one person in the family who is worried about schedules, budget, shopping, homework, or a zillion other family issues has through devious means managed to get the others around the dining room table or other suitable meeting venue to work things out. An even less desirable variation on this theme is when two or more family members have differing and strong opinions about schedules, budget, shopping, homework or the zillion other things, and the meeting mushrooms from just receiving direction (from the worried party) to battles over choices.

Of course the Burk family, saddled with two adults extensively trained in the arts of group problem solving and team dynamics, were doomed from the outset. There was no way this family was going to avoid the full monte of meeting design, execution and follow-up. In the beginning, it was brutal.

When there were just two of us, you'd have thought the meetings would be short, sweet and infrequent. Uh...no. While Nancy and I have extremely similar personal values, we do hardly anything the same way. A case in point. As a revenue officer I had neatly alphabetized folders, to-do lists (yes, this was pre-Franklin), color-coded DAIPs and DIIPs (early automation over-sized tractor-feed prints of individual case listings, for those of you who have only lived in the PC era) and systematically prioritized work plans and field trips. My Bride (by her own admission) just piled all her assignments on her desk each day (and I mean piled, not stacked) or crammed them into her brief case, and worked until her desk was clear and her briefcase was empty. This variation in style has pretty much defined (one could say haunted) our family doings these 30 plus years. Oh but with excellent results, of course. So how was this possible?

Our first step in growing together as a family was an agreement to share in all things equally.  This included benefits like decisions about money, free time, use of family toys and preferences for joint activities (such as seeing an equal number of science fiction movies and chick-flicks). It also included burdens, such as marketing, food preparation, cleaning and keeping the cars running. After our first year of wedded bliss Christine came along and child care was added to the list of shared activities. However, while the agreement to share everything equally was reached with only a modicum of discomfort (mostly on my part as my preferences may have been a wee bit stronger), executing the plan was an entirely different matter.  Enter the family meetings.

For the first few years the meetings were focused on money management and task distribution. The first item was quickly resolved with an agreement to pool all financial resources for the good of the family with each of us drawing a modest allowance to cover our individual interests. It was a simple decision but one that has served us well. If anything is to be paid from "family" funds, we must agree. If a proposal of one party is rejected by the other, the party of the first part may fund the purchase or activity from his or her allowance. This policy resulted in a large portion of the early family meetings being spent on consideration and mostly rejection of schemes I had developed for procuring more and bigger electronic devices. (This personality-altering experience was actually the source of my well-known inclination not to give up on old equipment just because it may be out of fashion or three technological generations behind what all my friends get to play with. It's sort of a "one VCR on the shelf is worth two blue ray players twinkling in my eye" approach).

The task distribution part was also tricky. We started by taking turns picking the various responsibilities that go with owning a house and a couple of cars and raising children. As a result, our separate lists were of equal length. However, I quickly realized that I was over my head. Being a clever boy, I picked laundry because....the machines do all the work, right? Due to a lack of full disclosure during the negotiations, I failed to consider the sorting of colors, the need to calculate with a high level of precision appropriate amounts of various cleaning agents, folding, and finally delivering baskets of clean clothes to the proper destinations. I got hosed. My brief turn at marketing also involved setbacks. I set records in two categories - the most minutes standing in the freezer aisle looking at coupons for various size packages of frozen vegetables without actually opening a freezer door, and for the most formal complaints ever lodged against a single shopper for failing to notice (and subsequently honor) the "take a number" system at the deli counter.

As a result of these performance problems and a few others, another regular item at early family meetings was discussion followed by adverse rulings on just what tasks I was qualified for. But after a time, I settled in comfortably with those critical chores that I seem to have a knack for - kitchen cleanup (as I know the only right way to load a dishwasher), ironing my slacks, taking out the trash, and monitoring the kids' homework without driving them to tears (an especially useful application of dad-level supervision, or DLS as it's known in local circles). My Bride pretty much handled the rest with the help of our beloved housekeeper (see my previous post Elizabeth).

Despite all the fun Nancy and I had during regular discussions on household affairs, Burk family meetings hit their golden age when Christy and Cathy were old enough to participate (due to only a part-time presence in our household during these years, my son Ted was spared the vast majority of these meetings). Previously, a few day planner notes and the occasional letter from a neighbor's attorney were enough to drive the agenda. And the only written records of the meetings were private notes (often penned in red) about failures of certain family members to meet expectations. But with the arrival of the girls we saw a good opportunity to include them in appropriate family business and to teach them about meetings. We went formal with weekly agendas (to which all contributed), rotating meeting chair responsibilities, ground rules, post-meeting critiques and summary minutes (still maintained in the family archives). The girls learned fast. They especially liked the concepts of consensus, which they loved to withhold, and the meeting critique, which was always their favorite part of the meeting since under our ground rules the critique was not subject to parental retribution (talk about being hoisted on your own petard - nothing like giving the old man a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10 to get even for being assigned a new chore).

The kid family meeting years ran from late 1993 through early 2000. The agendas included every possible topic that either a precocious eight year old or a 50+ year old father with "slight" OCD could come up with. The minutes from these meetings reveal a lot about family moods and concerns over the years, and how attitudes and interests changed and grew. Humor and periodic doses of sarcasm kept everyone a little entertained and willing to stay involved. It was great fun to watch the girls evolve from unwilling victims to first learning that they could influence outcomes and then becoming increasingly skilled at doing so. Here from those years are some memorable meeting excerpts, many of which deal with recurring themes.

From February 1994 on chores: "Cathy quit the grocery inventory job. She said it was torture. Mom and Dad accepted her decision but cancelled her allowance until she can pick another chore to do her part for the family."

From March 1994 on a family rule penalizing anyone $2 for using the term "shut up". This penalty had been assessed against the girls on numerous occasions: "The girls hate this rule and feel it is unfair. We compromised by agreeing that anyone (including parents) who says 'shut up' to a family member must pay that member $1."

From October 1994 on holiday planning: "The girls are worried that there are only 81 shopping days until Christmas. We booked 11/19 as a family shopping day to start things off." I was impressed with the girls' sense of planning (although there may have been just a tad of self-interest involved).

From February 1995 on home repairs: "Dad suggested that we set aside Monday the 20th (the Martin Lutheran King holiday) as a house fix-up day. Everybody loved the idea, especially the girls who hugged and kissed Dad for thinking of it." The sarcasm was beginning to emerge.

From March 1995 on the morning routine: "The girls hate Dad's morning wake up calls, even though he is incredibly polite about it. They really hate the overhead light thing. The girls want to wake up on their own, using their alarm clocks. They don't need Dad anymore. Dad said okay, but at 7:15 if the girls aren't up - whammo!  The big lights." 

From September 1995 on bike safety: "Cathy has a poor track record of wearing her helmet when bike riding.  She said her helmet is dweeb-like (Dad bought it).  If she had a kuell helmet like Jenna (yah, right) she would wear it.  Mom said she would take Cathy to the bike shop and get her the new helmet.  If she doesn't wear it then, she'll be in trouble." It should be noted here that I have never worn a bike helmet, so I had little leverage in the argument and felt compelled to accept the negotiated solution.

From November 1996 on an alarming increase in name-calling incidents: "Everyone agreed to stop using the nicknames Comet, Crisco, Naggo and yer-stoopid-and-uggally". I leave to your powers of deduction which names were directed at which family members.

From January 1998 on the always contentious issue of allowances.  This was a rare breakdown in the usually reliable parental caucus: "Dad and the girls asked for raises in their allowances.  Bowling is killing Dad's 'budget', and the girls can't afford all the potato chips they need.  Mom, in a totally unexpected fiscal move, said she'd review the budget and let us know. Everyone else went along with the plan (since they didn't think they had a prayer in the first place. Dad immediately started looking at golf catalogs)."

From February 1998 a typical example of how the post-meeting critiques went: "This meeting received 31.5 points (out of a possible 40), down a ton from last week.  Must've been a personality thing (who was the chair, anyway?) Cathy complained that she'd been tricked on the hotel and museum issues.  Christy was quoted, 'Good minutes! But a zero on the cargo pants thing because Dad made fun of my shoes.' Mom had her usual comment, 'Too long.'  Dad said, 'People were a little crabby, and I couldn't help about the shoes.  Look at'em!'" 

Also from February 1998 on an ongoing dispute about seating preferences at the family room dining (and meeting) table: "Cathy may sit where she chooses during even-numbered months. Christy may sit where she chooses during odd-numbered months". This simple but elegant solution saved countless hours of bickering.

From August 1998 on what is still called to this day the "Friday Night Movie Club". This one is a masterful example of the intricate nature of parent-kid negotiations: "If when Dad comes home the family room is uncluttered and the girls' rooms pass neatness inspection, Dad will take the girls to Blockbuster at 8:00 where they each may rent a movie. Also, Dad will pay one-half the cost of a video game (rental) if no socks or drink boxes were found in the family room during the previous week".  The sock problem went on for years.

Toward the end of the run, a little more whimsy had crept into the meetings (and the minutes) as the girls were nearly grown and pretty much managing their affairs on their own. Here are a couple of examples.

From January 1999 minutes in verse (this was in the heyday of my lunch poetry days so I couldn't help it):

Meeting Setup

At 8:15 Christy started the meeting.

She opened up with a cordial greeting.

Review of the Minutes

We reviewed the minutes from last December.

They were approved, best we could remember.

Review of Calendar

We reviewed and scheduled all sorts of stuff.

Dad's trips, kids' activities, more than enough.

With Dad on the road, poor Mom has it rough.

1999 Family Resolutions

Dad tried to introduce some new rules.

Nobody bought it (what are we, fools?)

Instead we created the "Saturday Night Game".

The choice we each in turn get to name.

The schedule at each family meeting we'll set.

Poor Dad, no new rules are in sight just yet.

Christy Shopping

Mom will organize a little clothes shopping.

Christy's old slacks are at her knees stopping.

She needs new stuff that is way in style.

Stuff she can wear for a very long while.

Meeting Critique

Everyone gave a pretty good rating.

Even a 10 from Dad, how elating!

A total of 36 is a wonderful score.

Maybe next time we can even get more!

And from March 1999 a final example written in alliteration (the comment about the previous minutes refers to the fact that I had purposely written them with incorrect grammar and mostly misspelled words, and the Bozo reference is about Cathy moving back to a redecorated upstairs bedroom):

Meeting Setup

Cathy caringly called Christy and cronies to commence.

Review of Minutes

The mostly mangled minutes met with much mirth and merriment.

Review of Calendar

We wearily went over the week and woefully whined over work worries.

Disney Trip

Everyone energetically embraced the excellent events we 

each must eagerly execute to escape efficiently.

House Improvements

Beautification begins with the brown bathroom.  Bozo's 

bedroom'll be brought back 'bove and boldly brightened. 

And basement buried at bottom, but not banished.

Family Picnic

Presented pretty peachy party plans.  Pop, pickles, pastry, 

pleasant people and plenty of other picnic pleasures.

Watch Repair

What? Why worry? Wonderful Mom will wepair.

Critique

Quite a cranky Cathy, a 3. Cute Christy, a 10.

Couldn't calculate caring couples' contribution, 

but collectively the count was close to 31.

Ah, the good old days. Well, today things are simpler. There are periodic special meetings to cover budget issues, trip planning, tax estimates, kid visits and the like. But mostly Nancy and I just meet once a week to discuss the usual retirement issues - doctor appointments, prescriptions, which slippers to wear with which pajamas, and the big one - just what day is it anyway? And no minutes are taken. We each just make notes in our separate planning devices. That makes it easier to argue over just what was said at the last meeting.

As always, comments welcome as well as your stories about the wonderful world of family meetings.  

Until next time.