September 2, 1942 - My parents' wedding

Note: I have definitely killed the Sunday Slang Special - it was too time-consuming to write those posts, which were not that interesting anyway.

Sixty-four years ago yesterday, my parents were married. I had a rather lengthy telephone conversation with my mother yesterday, about a number of things. And, even though my uncle had reminded me that September 2nd was my parents' wedding anniversary, it was not mentioned once in our conversation. What is interesting, though, is that, in the course of our conversation, my mother acknowledged that she should have divorced my father - and that she should have done this in the late 1960's or very early 1970's (it would have been difficult before then, because, prior to May, 1968, they had always owned businesses that were in my father's name.)

I did tell my mother that I still remember vividly a conversation I had with her when I was maybe 17 or 18, (this would have been in 1969 or 1970), during which I had asked her why she did not just simply leave my father and divorce him - since he was definitely mentally abusive to her (although I do not believe that he ever was physically abusive.) At the time, she had replied that divorce was just not an option. She told me yesterday that, as early as the late 1950's and early 1960's, some people, including my godmother (who was her cousin and was divorced herself), were pressuring her to divorce my father and that, maybe, she should have listened to them.

I have to ponder what it is like to grow up with parents whose marriage is not a good one. It took me years to realize that my parents' marriage was not a great one - if only because my father was mentally unstable. Truly, it was not until I was in my late teens that I realized that things would probably be a lot better if they divorced (although my father might have gone totally bonkers if my mother had ever tried to divorce him - it would have been an incredibly ugly scene); before then, I thought that, even though my father was a difficult man with a very bad temper, I really thought that my parents had a good marriage. Well, at least, I thought that they loved each other very deeply - and maybe they did. Interestingly, though, my mother also told me today that she wondered at least once or twice whether my father was cheating on her and, had she had certain proof that he was, she would have divorced him immediately; I sort of doubt that he ever cheated on her (I think that he was too awkward and shy - not the Don Juan type at all), but he certainly was a handsome and very charming guy.

Of course, they never divorced, and they even celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary on September 2nd, 1992, about five months before my father lost his battle to Hodgkins disease. My mother told me today that "she just could not leave a sick man" - to which I replied that I did not remember my father ever being a well man at any time in my entire life (he always had some sort of medical problem, he was generally depressive, and extremely volatile.)

And, when he died, my mother was genuinely broken up. Now, it seems that all she can remember about my father is all the bad times that he put her through. I was trying today in our conversation to lead her to admit that she had had at least a few very good times with him, but she never followed through on that thread of thought.