Memories Monday -- More from Charlie's Diary

I don’t know what to think.  If this were a soap opera instead of real life, I’d probably have a nervous breakdown and start having an affair or something.  Nikki says I ought to “confront” my father.  Karen thinks I ought to try to track down my sister.  But I’m really not that interested; I spent so many years repressing my curiosity and feelings about the whole thing that I don’t have the energy.

Every summer my father would fly out to see my sister for two weeks.  He would call home every couple days, but he never mentioned her.  As I grew older, I wondered if my father’s first marriage was simply an elaborate ruse designed to fool either my mother or me or both of us.  Maybe he had a girlfriend that he saw once a year.  Maybe money that supposedly went for child support was just his fun money.  My mother was easy to fool, because it never occurred to her that people would say things that weren’t true; that would defeat the whole purpose of communication.  You’d have thought this would have been great for me, but I stopped taking advantage of it because I felt too guilty; it was liking stealing cookies from a blind child's lunchbox.

This was before I knew the story of his first wife and the Trashing of the Offices.  Janet said that she’s not surprised with all that was going on in those days.  There were even parties where people would pair off with someone else’s spouse.  Not that she ever did; it creeped her out and anyway she’d never been invited to one. At the time, everyone in her crowd had young children and they were all too tired.  She supposed she should have suspected something when Doug told her he thought it would be “interesting.”  But at least he’d had the decency to wait until the kids were teenagers.

Kate, of course, was very concerned and kept asking me how I felt about things.  I said I didn’t know.   She kept eyeing the box of tissues and offering me tea.  Then she asked me if I wanted to go out and get a drink or a hot fudge sundae.  I opted for the sundae, but I got worms 'n' dirt instead of hot fudge.  We didn’t talk about It, but just about stuff, like the kids and how Janet’s cats are adjusting to the rectory and what we were doing for Thanksgiving.  Strangely enough, I felt much better.

Karen and Nikki want me to get more information from Aunt Pooh.  I decided we could all go over to see her; she loves to tell stories and this certainly is a good one.

 

Memories Monday -- Charlie Starts a Diary

 

I can’t believe what happened!  I can’t put it on the blog, but maybe if I write it down as if I were blogging it I’ll feel better or something.

Aunt Pooh was an at-home mom who wrote in her spare time and was active in the women’s movement.  Today, she’s won awards for her writing and teaches at the community college.  My Uncle Joe is a therapist, which Ed says was lucky for my cousins, who had to grow up in a house with writers and feminists hanging around all the time and making protest signs in the living room.

Aunt Pooh gave me a nice cup of pumpkin spice tea and organic oatmeal cookies.  “Well now, I always wondered how long it would take you to notice your birthday.  I figured that if you were like your mother, you’d have spotted it years ago.  But you take after the rest of us.  Too busy with life to worry about numbers.”

“Well, I never needed to see it.  I thought I knew when I was born.  But why did everyone tell me I was a year younger?  I could have been driving or drinking or voting!”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.  Not lying to you, but not arguing with your mother.  She was upset enough.”

“Upset about what?”

Aunt Pooh signed.  “Charlie, for someone who reads so much, you are showing a real lack of imagination . . .  Do you remember when you got married, and your mother’s dress fit perfectly except in the stomach area?”

“So we got it altered.”

“And if you look at the wedding pictures, you’ll see how big her bouquet was.”

Fortunately, I’d put my cup down or I would have dropped it.  “You mean my parents had to get married?”  I don’t know which was more shocking, that my mother had been pregnant at her wedding or that she had lied about it.  “But why . . .”

“Oh, Charlie,” Aunt Pooh shook her head.  “Your mother was so innocent.  She was so wrapped up in her science and numbers that she didn’t know what could go on with people.  She didn’t see consequences and when they turned up, she was dumbfounded.  But there’d been enough scandal already.  She didn’t want it to follow you for the rest of your life.”

“What scandal?”

“You know your father was married before and that you have a half-sister.  Didn’t you ever wonder why she never came to visit?”

“I gave up asking.  My mother always changed the subject.  And it made me too sad to think about it.”

“Well, your mother’s office was next to your father’s.  One thing led to another and his wife found out.  She stormed into the Chemistry Department, trashed his office and your mother’s and got a quickie divorce.  Very bad business decision on her part, but she agreed because your father offered to pay very generous child support and not have her arrested, which he could have done.  And then she moved; she was probably too embarrassed.”

“What did Grandma and Grandpa say?”

“There was all kinds of stuff happening at the time.  Everyone was getting divorced either for ‘personal growth’ or because they found someone else.  You know how your grandmother was, always looking for the positive.  So she threw herself into planning the wedding and then the baby shower.  Dad said that your mother could always support herself and a baby if she had to.  You know, they never understood poor Louie.”

Poor Louie!  I never thought of my mother like that.

I’ll have to think about this and talk it over with Karen and Nikki and maybe Janet and maybe Kate and maybe even Ed.

 

 

 

From Charlie's Diary -- Alice's Intentions

 

 

 

Emily and Alice have been Hanging Out.  They have lunch together most days.  They rent movies and Discuss them.  They’ve also been Running Around, going to lectures and concerts and even services at Epiphany.  (Alice thinks Kate is “terrific.”)  When Emily’s Lesbian friends have a party, they invite both of them.

But nothing else has happened.  If they have coffee after running around, all Emily gets is coffee.  Tea, actually.

It was driving Emily crazy.  “Why doesn’t she make a move?”

“Well, maybe she’s afraid of rejection.  Maybe she’s really interested, but she hasn’t had any experience.  Maybe she’s having such a good time being friends that she doesn’t want to spoil it.  Maybe  she doesn’t want you to think she’s fast.”

Emily snorted.  “After all this time, that is no longer possible.”

“Why don’t you make a move?”

“All of the above, except for the experience part,”

“Maybe you should call Michele and ask for some pointers.  Just kidding.”   Emily hasn’t talked to Michele in years.  I can’t decide if it’s sophisticated or tacky to call your ex to ask advice about hooking up with someone else.  The only person I could imagine doing anything like that was Michele herself.  She has become kind of a legend.

“That might not be such a crazy idea.”

My life is turning into a John Updike novel!  Or is it a Woody Allen movie?

 

 

 

Memories Monday -- Did I miss a year?

It’s been a tradition in my family to give the children literary names.  Betsey was named for Elizabeth Bennett and David Copperfield’s aunt, Betsey Trotwood.  My mother was Louisa for Louisa May Alcott.  I have three names, Charlotte Emily Anne, after the Brontes.  Cilla was supposed to be Belinda Harriet as a salute the Barbara Pym’s heroines in Some Tame Gazelle, but she was born on Thanksgiving, so we decided to give her a Pilgrim name, and she is Priscilla Temperance.  Josh escaped, because Darcy is a girl’s name and you can’t really name your son Mister.

Betsey did not believe that I had two middle names.  “That’s weird.”  So I dug out my birth certificate.

“See, right here.    ‘Charlotte Emily Anne Sommerville born November 12 . . .’”  Then I noticed something.  My birth certificate said I was born a year earlier than I was.  I guess I’d never read it. 

That was weird.

Ed joked that I had married him under false pretenses and that maybe we’d have to get married again like Rob and Laura Petri had.  Unfortunately he said it in front of the girls, who were all set to have another wedding.

Karen thought there might be some romantic story behind it and Nikki said it was probably a clerical error.  She had had to have her daughter Jennifer’s birth certificate changed because it said “Hennifer” and her nephew is Matthew David instead of David Matthew, since her sister didn’t want to go to the trouble to change it.

Nikki is probably right, but I decided to call my Aunt Pooh.  That is my mother’s sister, who was named after Ursula in Women in Love.  When she didn’t like it, my grandmother explained that Ursula meant bear, so she decided to call herself WinniethePooh, but somehow it degenerated into “Pooh.”  Aunt Pooh has four children, my cousins Meghan, Joanna, Bethany, and Jim.  When Jim realized that he had been named James so he could be called “Jamie,” he rebelled.  I think my uncle was relieved.

When I called Aunt Pooh, she said she’s been dying to have a nice visit and could I come over to her house and how would Saturday be?

I was puzzled, but I said “Of course.”

It’s always nice to see Aunt Pooh.    

Memories Monday -- It's not over until it's analyzed.

Karen and Nikki came over Sunday afternoon for Part 2 – Discussing the Wedding.  The people at Epiphany had loaded us up with leftovers (telling us to “Come back, now.”) as well as the paper and plastic.  (Somehow this doesn’t sound as elegant as china, silver, and glasses, but I don’t want to give a false impression.)

We all agreed that the wedding had been beautiful, although Karen, who is becoming quite the Methodist thanks to her detective work, thought the chanting was “kind of creepy – no offense.”

I had to agree. “But Kate went High Church because when she was community organizing in the slums, she needed to escape to another world for an hour a week.”

“Well, she certainly did.”

Allison and her family had left in the morning.  “Do you think she’s healed now?”  Nikki asked.

“I sure hope so.”

“You’re nicer than I am.  I wouldn’t give a rat’s as . . .butt.”

“Well, she’s family.  Courtney and Dylan are calling Kate ‘Grandma.’  Maybe back home, they’ll call her ‘Pastor Grandma,’ but that’s not my problem.”

“Speaking of family, your dad seemed to hit it off with Missy.  She started getting all sentimental and telling him how awful she felt about breaking up Janet’s marriage and would she ever forgive her?”

“He must have loved that.”

“Actually, he didn’t seem to mind. He told her she should try to get to Janet through Kate.  He called her ‘the other one.’  Why doesn’t he like Kate?  She’s such a sweetheart.”

“In his mind, there’s got to be something wrong with anyone who would love Janet if they weren’t related to her and had to.  Plus, he thinks clergy are either crazy or hypocrites.”

“What about Unitarian ministers?”

“He thinks they’re bleeding heart liberals and tree huggers with more education then common sense, but they’re interesting to talk to.  Were you eavesdropping?”

“I was at the table next to them, and they’d gotten loud.  Ed’s dad was getting a drink or in the bathroom or something.”

“It’s too bad he wasted his time with Missy,” Nikki said.  “He probably could have gotten some wedding sex with one of the single churchladies.”

“She’d probably have tried to convert him.” 

Cilla picked that time to walk in the kitchen.  “I thought the bride and groom were the ones who had wedding sex.”

I gave her one of the homemade white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.  “Why don’t you take Betsey and Josh cookies, too?  Here, I’ll put everything on a tray for you.  And here are some napkins from the wedding.”

“Can I have two?”

“Of course you can.  Now run along.”

Karen and Nikki were trying not to laugh.  “You missed a teachable moment there.  Does she understand about Janet and Kate?”

“She has a new grandmother and she got to be a flower girl and that’s good enough for her.  Anyway, one of her friends has two dads.”

“And she got two cookies.” 

That would work for me.

Maundy Memories

 

 

The service on the Thursday before Easter (Maundy Thursday) often includes everyone washing each other’s feet the way Jesus washed the feet of the Disciples the night before he died.  It is a moving spiritual experience that can help you understand the Easter story.  I’ve never been to one because the idea of anyone touching my feet (except children playing “this little piggy”) creeps me out.  Although you don’t have to participate, it would creep me out just to watch.

Janet and Kate have never given me a hard time about it.  Kate would probably love to get into the psychological issues but thinks it’s judgmental to question anyone’s religious practices.  Ed has never said anything one way or the other.

When Betsey was about four, Janet told her about going for a Holy Wednesday pedicure and she wanted to go too, since Janet said she always gets her toenails polished.  So it became a Grandma-granddaughter outing every year and when Cilla was four, she started going.  By then they had moved on to getting manicures.  If I ever get a manicure, the first thing I’ll have to say is “Well, I hope you like a challenge.”

The first year Cilla went, we were sitting around having snacks and drinks before Easter dinner when my mother complimented the girls on their pink (Cilla) and purple (Betsey) fingernails.    Cilla beamed.  “Thank you, Grandma Louie.  We got it for Monday Thursday.”

“It’s Maundy Thursday.” Betsey hissed, “Sheesh!”

My parents looked puzzled.  “You know, when Jesus washed the Disciples’ feet because in the olden days, everyone wore sandals all the time and their feet got all dusty.  So when someone came to visit you, you had to wash their feet.”

My mother was a Unitarian with little imagination.  “But you don’t wear sandals all the time, and when you do, your feet don’t get dusty.”  She might have said it was silly, but one thing I’ll say for the Unitarians is that they teach you to be respectful of other people’s ideas.

Unfortunately I slipped up on that.  “Jesus Christ, Mom, it’s a symbol.”

Everyone got quiet.  My father looked like he was about to say, “Now look here, young lady,” Betsey giggled, and Josh said, “She didn’t mean it, Grandma.  She’s sorry.”

“We got our toes done, too!”  Cilla started to take off her shoes and socks.

“Not now, Cilla,” I said.  “We’re going to eat soon,” But it was too late.  Cilla was sitting next to my father on the couch and she put her feet in his lap.  “See?”

“Very pretty.”

“Betsey and Grandma and Aunt Kate got theirs done, too.  Do you want to see?”  Janet has never been a favorite of my father’s.

“That won’t be necessary; I’m sure they’re very nice.” My father can really be quite courtly when he wants to be, but Janet, probably just to annoy him, took her shoes off.

“You do it, too, Aunt Kate.” Cilla squealed.  So Kate did and then Betsey and then Josh, although he didn’t have anything to show, until everyone was barefoot except Ed and me and my parents.  My mother apologized that she hadn’t had her toes painted.

“I just go get some more crackers,” I said. 

“And we need some olives,” Cilla piped up.  “It’s not festive without olives.”  As if the toe rainbow wasn’t festive enough. 

By the time dinner was ready, everyone had their shoes on, because as Kate had pointed out, Jesus and the Disciples had all put their sandals on to eat.

A better ending for to this would be for me to have an epiphany and go to the service the next year.  But I never have.  I am not known to be stubborn (which may be a polite way to say that I may be wishy-washy), so I think that every once in a while, I can put my foot down, even with plain toenails.