I’ve always loved reading letters. Two of my favorite books are the letters of poets Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, so it wasn’t unusual for me to read any letter I came across in our house whether it was addressed to me or not. Okay, call me a snoop, I don’t care. It was fun. And I learned a lot!
Oddly, my
father kept all the letters written to him when he was in the Navy. A few from his sisters, but most were from
girls who liked him. I read them all, over and over again. They were silly—not
really mushy, just silly. I think girls acted more like ladies back then so
maybe the correct word is … boring.
Loving letters,
why wouldn’t I read a letter addressed to my mom and postmarked from some small
town in Arkansas? It was from her BFF,
from her childhood, telling her a guy named Bob had burned up in a fire. He’d
been drinking and smoking. Reading on, I learned that BFF was Mom’s former
sister-in-law and that Bob had been her first
husband. What? My mother had a former life?
I never dreamed the woman who popped my face when I poked my chin at her
would have anything before my dad.
Of course my
imagination went wild. Was I really
my dad’s daughter? After all, when Mom got mad at me she’d say, “You’re
just like your father!” Maybe that guy Bob was the father she meant. You know
how kids are. (In later years, I wrote to the BFF and asked if she had any pictures of my mom and of course, I'd like to see a pic of Bob too. She sent me some. How's that for a BFF?) Above you see mom and BFF in later years--still friends.
I asked my
mother about Bob and she gave me a little history but what I found interesting was
how she rode the bus from Arkansas to Texas, lived with an Aunt
and Uncle, registered for nursing school and recreated herself. And then my
father showed up—the handsome navy man. To hear her tell it, he wouldn’t leave her
alone; he was totally enamored and in love. Well, of course he was! Just look at that nursing picture (center girl) —who
wouldn’t be? Wasn’t she a beauty?
In Longview,
Texas back in the 40s, lives crisscrossed like crazy. Dad dated and went to
school with girls who later had kids in my classes. Odd to look at a girl I didn't especially like and know that her mom dated my dad. Yuk!
When Mom lived in the nursing school
dorms downtown, she used to walk across the street to a little fruit stand
to buy fresh fruit from a couple of very cute brothers. Guess who those
brothers were? My husband’s father and uncle. I can see how our lives could have been easily
changed—and I might not be me. Crazy, isn’t it, how things happen?
I think
marriage is a miracle. It’s a challenge for the best of couples. It’s difficult.
A lot of people still quip that ‘marriage is a state of mind.’ So if you're in the right frame of mind you can be/stay married? How's that work exactly?
The Merriam
Webster Dictionary defines marriage this way:
1
1
a (1): the state of being united to a person of the opposite sex
as husband or wife in a consensual and contractual relationship recognized by
law (2): the state of being united to a person of the same sex in
a relationship like that of a traditional marriage marriage
Marriage is a lot
more than a cold-fact definition, or a state of mind, but I guess it’s up to each of us to determine what it is and
means to us. Scary, isn’t it, to think how we ‘live’ our marriage determines
how our kids view and live theirs.
Years ago,
while still in high school, my daughter made a funny observation. She said, “I
think it’s weird that parents spend so much time telling their kids to beware
of strangers, and then we meet a stranger, marry him, and live with him for the
rest of our life--and they're okay with that.”
True, isn’t it? And frightening, in a way. Because we never get to know our spouses until we live with
them--and sometimes it's too late.
When it comes right down to it—every day with our spouse should be a
great adventure—learning, discovering, loving and respecting, practicing the Golden Rule with them, and having fun. Shouldn’t it?
What do you
think the most difficult part of marriage is?
6 comments:
Marriage is hard. I find comfort in Eph. 5 when I lose my way. To remember that Christ gave himself up completely for his bride is to remember what husband means.
Thanks for another great post - I enjoy reading about your family and looking at the pictures.
ahh, the perils of growing up and spending a lot of adult time in the town where you grew up.
There is nothing easy about marriage, but if a person can recall that first blush of love, why they fell in love and recall the early days, usually you can get through anything. The problem is wanting to get through it, giving up seems so easy these days. If you see yourself on the porch, in that rocking chair, then keep that in mind and fight for it! Unless, of course, any type of abuse is the cause, then run, and do it now!
After my mom died, my dad gave me all the letters she had saved from during the war. She was fifteen when they got married so I don't think I'm going to read about an earlier husband but for some reason I still haven't read them.
What's difficult is not taking the other person for granted. We grow so familiar with each other. We have to stop and remember the person with us for life is a miracle.
Your daughter is smart - I never thought about it that way. LOL
Sonia Lal
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