September Second.

Labor Day weekend.

Growing up, this would be the tail end of our family camping trip. My father always took the last two weeks in Sept and we packed up the trailer and headed off. Over the years, I’ve stood on glaciers, looked down the grand canyon (I think I was too young-small to ride down), seen the Canadian Rockies and Nova Scotia. We also got dragged to a lot of historic sites– whose significance was mostly lost on a kid. We went to amusement parks and rodeos.

We cooked over a grill (I think it was a gas grill, but still:) and had campfires every night, played cards as a family and got a glimpse of what normalcy might look like.

Then it was back to the regularly scheduled dysfunction. I like to think now, that this was a slice of something, for my parents, as well, who had an extremely dysfunctional functional marriage/dynamic. I think about this now, in particular, because this would be their anniversary. I’m not even sure how many years it would be. Eighty?

Pete and Helen were so very different people, from different backgrounds, both carrying wounds of their pasts. My father was the local football legend who served in the army, active duty WW2. I believe he became a sergeant? corporal? Then he went on to Yale with the GI bill, continuing on to law school. My mother came from military brass, a long and distinguished family of officers. West Point. But she grew up in an almost Cinderella-like kind of misery. Her mother had health issues. what was most likely– from what she later learned from medical records- was an untreated thyroid, manifested as schizo-affective disorder and she slipped farther and farther from a functioning reality. She was put into a sanatorium when my mother was two. In fact, my mother grew up believing that her mother had died. Step-mom ruby– proclaimed she did not like children and did not want them– and made the lives of three lost children one long living misery. So, abandonment issues there. But she had a very pioneering kind of spirit. I’m not sure of the specifics of what sparked it, but she ended up in NYC, went to Pratt art institute for a year before going to Colombia St Luke’s to become a nurse. In that regard, my mother was born fifty years too soon. She had an incredible mind.  Both my parents were brilliant and I do mean that almost literally. Had Helen been born a generation or two later, she could have gone to MIT and become an engineer. She was phenomenal at figuring things out. I remember her learning how to repair her own car. She got tired of her mechanic treating her like she was stupid, so she signed up for an auto-mechanics course and learned how to do it herself. She taught herself wiring, plumbing, upholstery. In fact, she made both my brother and sister re-upholstered couches that they both still own. She could look at something and say… Oh, I know what I can use there….

Now- while this might sound like a fairy tale– it wasn’t. I don’t think my second generation polish immigrant father had any idea how to relate to a woman who was probably smarter than he was. Women took are of the family, had children. kept their mouths shut.  ie the very traditional version of the pre-baby boom generation. It made for a very bumpy relationship– and i remember two things growing up. One- hoping for a divorce, and 2, picking locks on their private cabinets– looking for adoption papers. I was desperate for some explanation for why I was not like these people. yes, I was always the black sheep, struggling to find my way and place (despite being a good student in good schools etc). And even in little things. There were six in our family. Five of them have blue eyes. Except one. You guessed it. I have hazel-yellow eyes. I was the dreamer, the cry-baby, the ‘don’t be so sensitive’ one…

Unfortunately, neither of those things panned out. In fact, I found a congratulations on the new baby cards. And, to be honest, thinking about it now. I knew the story of the night I was born. My parents were supposed to go out to dinner with my father’s football buddies (I think it was that group. I’m not sure now) Anyway- she refused, saying she wasn’t feeling well.  He was not thrilled. Needless to say, probably by around 9:00– she knew why. I was three weeks early, so they may not have been expecting it. But by the time they got her to the hospital, I was already crowning and born in very short order.

And yes- based on the old fashioned notion– they found a way to make their marriage function. In fact, nothing exemplifies this better than something I saw when i was back for a visit. Both of them were sports fans. Mom was a Yankees fan and Dad was a Mets fan– they generally had different favorite teams.. but they would both be watching the same game, my father in the living room, and my mother in her own room (yes, they had long since taken separate rooms, and frankly, i think it was a relief for everyone. mom worked nights, day worked days and they slept in different rooms. did I mention dysfunctional functioning?) Anyway- during the commercials she would come out and they would discuss the game– did you see that play.. I can’t believe he missed that ball… etc… And then when the commercial was over– she would duck back into her room to watch the rest. To be fair, he was a smoker (heavy smoker and nasty brand), so i can’t blame her for not wanting to sit in the same room to watch a game– but this really does encapsulate the odd ways they found to have something in common when they had almost nothing in common.

I always used to joke– they would never get a divorce (although that topic did come up when i was 12– but that’s another story).. they are both Taurus– for whom change is worse than death.

But they made their lives and the family work– somehow:) I could go on in more detail. Let me know if I should continue that saga.

So, somehow I thought that this was an auspicious date to relaunch something– especially since it is something that has had a bumpy ride but I’m sticking it out, trying to make it work. I don’t think my parents every believed in me, in what I could be that didn’t fit the traditional mold, ie becoming a writer– or rather, a writer who earned a living. But I’d like to think that they are watching over me, especially Mum, cheering me on and plugging for my success and happiness:)