Chip called me out recently over a grudge that he thought I had against someone. His feeling was that the incidents about which I might have been holding the grudge did not remotely merit the grudginess. He seemed particularly aggrieved that I could have been holding this grudge for nearly two years.
I didn't say it at the time, but what I was thinking was (1) I didn't really have a grudge against this person, which was actually pretty generous considering that the grudgeworthy event had happened not just once but twice, and (2) two years? really? Is that a long time to hold a grudge? Because I have grudges that predate not only meeting Chip (note, when I was a mere child of 19) but, indeed, that correlate roughly with the Carter administration. I can barely remember the Carter administration, but I remember the actions of girls called Heather and Stacy. And not in a good way.
Does that mean if I ran into them in the street that I would go all nuts and start airing my grievances? No, of course not. It did mean that for the rest of our childhoods, I viewed them with suspicion that kept them at arm's length, and as it turned out, that was not a bad thing. Whether because of my preconceived notions or because perhaps they were miserable little heifers not worth my time anyway, they seemed to act in ways that only confirmed my original judgment.
I often find that others have the same reaction that Chip does about the grudge issue. There's a reason that "forgive and forget" is a cliche, after all. But within my family of origin--at least those of us who grew up under the loving influence of the Montana towns of Butte and Anaconda--I never have to explain. It's the flip side of another trait that many people prize: loyalty. It's not just grudges I have from 1978 but friends. Good friends. People I went to kindergarten with or, in one case, met for the first time when I was just nine days old.
I suppose that there are probably a lot of people out there--better people than I, apparently--who have memories as long and clear as that but have managed only to hold on to only the good things about the people they've met on the journey. Maybe my life would be better if I did that. In the meantime, I'm not going to apologize. It's who I am. My name is Nicole, and I hold grudges. And there are worse things.