Aside from yearly holiday and special occasion trips home, most of my adult relationship with my parents took place over the phone. I usually spoke with my mother, who later reported to my father as to what I had been up to; much was lost in translation. If it was a Sunday (the only day my father wasn't at work) then it was all three of us on the phone at the same time.
These three-way calls often turned into trivia based squabbles between my mom and dad, as I listened in as the silent third party. "Bill, the name of that actor was Mitchum, not Mitchell - you keep calling him Mitchell - get the Almanac." The Webster's Dictionary, Book of Hoyle, and The World Almanac were the three reference books that held the power to end most every argument between them. These dog-eared referees had the final say, but never the last word; each face-off ended with one of my parents declaring, "HA! I WAS RIGHT!"
I'm not sure if happiness was a goal in my parent's marriage; their example of "union" wasn't what I wanted for myself, but seemed to be what worked for them - or simply, what seemed to be. Their relationship was like an old car held together by MacGyver riggings; it got them to where they needed to go, but I have no idea how it ever passed inspection.
*an excerpt from my cancer memoir entitled CAR DEALER'S DAUGHTER.
1 comment:
Brilliance in them words. Brilliance, I tell ya.
My grandparents made it to year 65 together, although his mind had withered in the last couple considerably.
There was great affection, I think, between them, and little bickering. I've known so many couples who do that bickering thing. And I suspect it's a way to get a little distance from someone one is with all the time. The arguments create just enough room to measure and feel one's independence, which never quite stretches out very far before snapping someone back into the routines of daily living together.
I have no idea what this is like, nor the allegedly better alternatives. I have nothing of my own to measure these relationships against, except that oft-dreaded lifelong one with myself.
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