Of all the sayings that describe the family experience, one of the pithiest comes from the pen of Dodie Smith. This English writer best known for writing “The Hundred and One Dalmatians” described the family as “that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.”

Few aspects of living are more contradictory and convoluted than finding one’s place in a family. It takes a lifetime. Throughout that lifetime, roles change, affections wax and wane, alliances and obligations unfold and sometimes unravel.

What is it about families that keeps us intertwined for a lifetime? And is it truly possible to live all year, every year, as if it were Christmas — that magical time when the notion of “family” expands to encompass all of humankind?

Family members aren’t necessarily the easiest people to like. But because we know them so well and share crucial commonalities, they invite us to become our best selves, even when family affairs seem to resemble more of the “beast” than the “best.” Our evolving roles help us to evolve as individuals. As children, we navigate waves of harmony and conflict with siblings. In our mature role as parents, we feel the harmonies and conflicts of our children with deeper joy or pain. At some point, many of us become grandparents, and we wonder on our own behalf how that could have happened to our vigorous and young selves while simultaneously relaxing into our new status as wise friend and advisor, cheerleader and listener. If ever there was a plum role in the family, grandparent is it.

By the time we assume the great-grandparent mantle, we seem to be caring for half the world, stalking the birthday calendar, visiting the youngsters, sometimes even taking on occasional child care duties. We have so many memories and observations to share, regardless of whether all that wisdom is heeded by little ears or not. In any case, we have planted seeds. We tend our own garden; why not bring those skills to the other half of the world as well?

Families are the “for better or worse” we cannot choose. They bless us, but they also challenge us to forgive. Oscar Wilde once said, “After a good dinner, one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” There you have it — the true purpose of holiday family dinners. The Hollywood family dinner is often a venue for family secrets being unmasked and interpersonal tensions reaching a boiling point. There follows the quick resolution, and if the movie is a comedy, all is changed, but well. Why is family resolution so much harder in real-life families? We would do well to heed George Bernard Shaw’s pithy advice: “If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.” If only our sense of humor and spirit of fun didn’t take a back seat to a steady supply of family dramas.

While unique family situations play out, acceptance and forgiveness hold vigil over our best selves. If we can practice these gifts of love in the families we don’t choose, we can certainly manifest them in the families we do. It actually seems easier to accept the foibles of those we haven’t known our whole lives. Maybe that ability comes from a deep gratitude for the families we choose — our circle of friends. Playwright Tennessee Williams saw some beneficent and perhaps even sacred dynamic in the interplay of the individual and his or her “peeps” when he quipped, “Friends are God’s way of apologizing to us for our families.” As we balance these two crucial communities of which we’re a part, we are left to wonder about both: how do I live with them, and how do I live without them? (And thank God for the one I need right now.)

The Buddha is attributed with the simple definition of family as “a place where minds come in contact with one another.” Maybe that’s the easy part, as it seems to be hearts that get us into trouble with one another. It’s all so complicated!

Which makes me terribly grateful for my pets.

Renee Gravelle is a Dunkirk resident. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com