AFFAIRS OF THE HEART

I crouched down in the corner behind my bed hoping they wouldn’t see me. Hoping they had forgotten I was there and could hear everything. My parents were having an explosive and angry argument in the other room. I knew my mother was mad, because her usually soft voice was dominating their conversation. Their voices raised and lowered and the words I heard were related to my mother accusing my father of being with another woman. The significant part of the conversation was at the very end when my mother told him to pack his bag and move out.

My father did move out and it felt as though everything in our home was falling apart. I can only assume that they made up because he came back after only a few days. He never again moved out, but I don’t know if he any more affairs. Regardless of a betrayal they did love each other and remained married for the rest of their lives, maybe because divorce was regarded as something you just didn’t do. After my father died, my mother told me she wished she had divorced my father. I told her that if she had done so, I would have stood by her.

SECRETS I KEPT

Until my parents had the loud argument and he moved out, I did not understand the full ramification of his behaviors. Sometimes, when my father had an errand to run, he would take me with him. This was exciting to me, since we lived on a small farm and I was always bored. On one particular day he took me to what he called a “greasy spoon” café. He told me that it was his favorite place to eat, as it had much better food than the other larger restaurants. Presumably he had been there often, since the waitress behind the counter and he knew each other.

I watched him as he paid a lot of attention to and flirted with the waitress. It made me nervous and uncomfortable and I kept wishing he would stop. When we left the restaurant and headed for home, he told me not to tell my mother. This would be a secret between the two of us.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE PAPERBACK BOOKS

Had I not had the opportunity to read the books my father gave me, I may not have understood their argument as well as I did. He gave them to me discreetly so that my mother did not see them. He quietly told me not to tell her. It was our secret. It was another secret that he expected me to never reveal. This was okay with me. I enjoyed the books.

I knew they were hidden from my mother not because they were mysteries, but because they contained some sexually explicit parts. She would not have allowed me to read them.

AND THEN...........

It seemed that my father let me in on his secret life because he was treating me as his son. I was supposed to have been a boy, not a girl, and rather than continue to feel bad, my father decided I was going to hang out with him. Then it would seem okay, actually maybe normal for him to divulge his tawdry tendencies. So I was treated to something that was for me, a little strange, but because he was my father, I felt it was okay.

A SENSE OF HUMOR

There were many smaller secrets, ones that were insignificant when my father would tease my mother. My father had a bigger than life sense of humor. He was always playing pranks on the unsuspecting around him.

My mother would be putting clean sheets on their bed, tucking in the sides, making sure it was perfect. Trying to hold his laughter in and starting to turn red he would look at whoever may be watching, put his finger to his lips signaling to not speak out. He would then divert her attention away from what she was doing. My mother, used to his sense of humor would turn and pretend to scold him by using his full name. This was a harmless secret.

Then there was the time when my father wanted my mother to ride on the new escalators that were recently installed in our department stores. She was very afraid to ride on them, so my father convinced her by telling her that they took the elevators out of the building and she would have to ride the escalator to get to the second floor. He chuckled, turned red and put his finger to his lips signaling to me not to let her in on the real truth. I felt very bad for her. My father was lying to her and I wanted to tell her the truth. But, I knew my father would be very angry with me if I did not go along with his plan.

She was furious with him as she bravely rode the escalator and in front of eyes as she got off was, yes, a working elevator.

THE SECRETS REMAINED HIDDEN

I never told my mother about the books nor did I tell her about the waitress. I wondered if the waitress was the one they were fighting about. Had my father had an affair with her?

There was no reason why I should tell my mother about the waitress, or my suspicions. I was their child and I felt it was not up to me to come between the two of them. Obviously, I didn’t need to, as my mother seemed to have figured it out herself.

I became more tolerant and understanding in my observation of the relationships of others and of my own. Of course, there will be arguments, but that does not mean an end to the relationship.

EXERCISE

• List a time you were asked to keep a secret from someone.
• Did you think it was right or wrong? Did you do it anyway?
• Did your parents or friends ever have a heated argument?
• How did you feel?

  

 

CODE OF SECRECY BROKEN

It was a difficult time. It was the Great Depression and I came into life here at the end of it. My mother, for some reason, decided when I was about 10 or 11 she would divulge a secret that she and my father had been keeping. She very simply and matter-of-fact said the words I will never forget. “We decided to keep you.”

Up to that moment I had no idea that they were thinking of not keeping me, so I was shocked and sad and uncertain. What did that mean? Were they going to throw me away?

It was her way of saying “We really love you a lot.” But, I couldn’t put those two sentences together to make any sense. I tried asking her questions, but she brushed them off telling me that I was too young to understand.

READY FOR THE BIG NEWS

I spent what I thought was a very long time waiting for the right time and the right age, and finally my mother gave in and explained what she meant.

In those days there was no means of safe birth control. A Lysol douche was the most effective and most dangerous, a diaphragm was neither dependable nor a guarantee. The use of a coat hanger was an extreme method. These methods were used immediately after intercourse, with the hope that they would prevent pregnancy. From what she told me, the time between when my sister was born at the beginning of the Depression, and the time at which she became pregnant with me nine years later was a horrendous period. A time during which preventing pregnancy was a dangerous and perilous journey. A man had a choice to keep a woman from getting pregnant. If this choice was not exercised, then the burden was left to the woman.

It was the Great Depression. The depression was a dreadful time. People were out of work, and there was not enough food or shelter. Men lost their jobs, and this was difficult because at that time, men were the breadwinners, men headed the families, and if they did not have a way to make money, to take care of those they loved, they felt shame and disgrace. My father had been out of work for a period of time, and my mother found a job as a banquet service employee, setting tables and serving food. My sister was sent to live with an aunt during the worse of times. It was all my parents could do to take care of even themselves.

I tried to understand what she was telling me, but even in my teens I didn’t fully grasp the reality of what was happening during those years and the way it affected my family.

IN THAT INSTANT

Who could know what would have happened had I not been born? Had they decided not to keep me? But, the way I look at it is, the only way I would not have been born is if I had changed my mind. We choose our parents for the lessons and experiences that we know they will give us.

My mother may have used everything she could to prevent pregnancy at the time of intercourse, but I still would have been born to them. In the instant the decision was made, it was the only decision. I already knew and had decided that these people would be my parents.

I learned that, from their perspective, deciding to keep me meant the same thing as loving me. I was afraid of doing something wrong and of not being perfect all the time, because I figured that if I didn’t live up to what they expected, they wouldn’t love me and could reconsider their decision at any time. It is, of course, impossible to be perfect all the time.

Regardless of the tough lessons and experiences, this is what I needed for this lifetime. I chose them to teach me lessons in freedom and independence, and I am still learning. My parents, my father especially, wanted me to have freedom and not work for someone else. He also wanted me to make a lot of money. Freedom and wealth are what he wanted for himself and could never make it happen. They wanted the best for me in the only way they knew how. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how important this is for me and how I wish I had asked my father more questions about what he thought I should do.

Some of their messages are unusable, and I catch myself still using them (such as, “You don’t have what it takes”), with negative effects. I now take control of my life by reminding myself, when I am doing something I know they would disapprove of, that I do have what it takes to do and be what I want, and even if I don’t, the choice to BE remains with me.

EXERCISES

• Do you know if you were planned or unplanned?
• How does this knowledge affect the way you view your life and your parents?
• How does it affect the way you have planned your own family?
• Do you believe we choose our own parents?