2002-08-15 - 10:01 p.m.
In case it isn't obvious yet, I'm an anniversary person. I remember the dates of major (and sometimes minor) events in my life, and when they come around again, I stop to ponder the circularity of the seasons and the spiral progress of my existence. The older I get, the more stuff I have to remember, and the more I like to think about it, so I'm probably going to be a really boring old lady some day.
With that intro.....today.... would have been my anniversary.... had I stayed married to the first man to whom I pledged my troth (whatever that means) thirty two years ago. I cannot imagine who I would be now if that marriage had lasted. Certainly someone entirely other than who I am now. It was so long ago, the relationship should almost have been just a stage in growing up, a boyfriend I vaguely remember, a fun summer. We were heady with the thrill of getting out from under the parental wings, and spent our days swimming in the river and getting high and listening to music. We were teenagers and had never even talked about the future or our feelings for each other. But two very serious life changing grown-up things happened to us that summer. I got pregnant, and we decided to get married. One of those things-- parenthood-- is truly forever, and the other-- marriage-- hardly ever is. But once you enter into the contract, no matter how ill advised, it becomes a part of your life history, a chapter in your story.
We were shocked out of our fantasy world by the news of my pregnancy. I remember a fight and Barry speeding off in his car, leaving me to think I would be dealing with it all alone. But he came back and we decided that we would get married and raise our child. "It's not like we're really YOUNG or something," I remember saying. My parents had married and produced me at the same ages (18 and 19) so, even though marriage and motherhood had never been on my list of plans, it seemed doable. Of course neither set of parents was happy with this news. I was somewhat estranged from mine, and all they got was a phone call. Barry on the other hand, had to get his parents to show up at the court house and give their permission, because in our state, while a "woman" of eighteen can marry on her own, a "boy" under twenty-one had to have parental permission. They appeared, with long faces, and signed. Barry's parents were wonderful people who never said a word of criticism to either one of us, and I grew to love them very much, but we all knew this wasn't what they planned for their son. After the license ordeal, Barry's father shook his son's hand and said "Well, I hope you know what you're doing." We were getting married the following day and leaving on a car trip, so this would be our good-bye. For all our bravado, I know we both felt that we didn't at all know what we were doing. But it was too late to do anything else.
Our "wedding" looked like what it was: a minimal affair thrown together in a few days by a couple of people who had no interest in weddings. It was something I had never given a thought to. When my high school girlfriends were planning their future fantasy weddings, I was planning my art show, or the publication of my book. I had never seen any evidence in reality that it was the "happiest day of your life" for a woman, despite of all the fairy tales. Before the ceremony, I remember that I kept mentally shaking myself, as we were getting ready, saying "You are getting married. This is a big deal." But we had absolutely no money, and no time. And so we just did this: At seven a.m. on August the fifteenth, we met the campus minister (the cool one) and about a dozen of our closest friends, at the nearby lake. The guests spread out blankets on the grass, and someone brought a guitar and strummed some music. We stood under a tree, and the minister read something from Khalil Gibhran that I had selected. We were pronounced husband and wife in a very short ceremony involving a tiny gold band. A bottle of wine and some joints were passed around, and then it was over. I wore a long purple skirt and a white blouse with a purple leather vest over it. Not just any vest, but one with brass studs, and long purple fringe that hung from hip level all the way to the ground. And Barry was wearing a leather vest and pants that I had turned into bell bottoms with the addition of orange triangles at the ankles. It makes me want to laugh now, but we were feeling pretty hip, even if the occasion was minimal.
A lot more could be said about where this marriage led and where it ended up. We had a beautiful baby boy. We stayed together for three years. Barry was, and probably still is, a quality person on many levels. I have never regretted that he was the father of my son, because I think he contributed some good genes to the mix. He was intelligent and talented and thoughtful. He was also selfish..... and somewhat emotionally paralyzed. He backed away from his son's life in a way that can only be described as sad. Sad for all he missed, and sad for all he could have contributed and didn't.
Today I was thinking about our funny little hippie wedding, and what a funny little, confused girl I was, about to become a wife and mother before I even knew how to take care of myself. Before I had ever even had to chance to think of what I might want to do. It is probably one of the greatest ironies that we often make the most important decisions in life before we have the wisdom and maturity to make the right choices. And then I suppose we gain wisdom and maturity by living through our bad choices....
Today I was thinking how I can't imagine who I would have been, had I stayed in the life I planned for myself at eighteen. Or any of the other lives I have lived and abandoned since. Things have not always gone smoothly, but at least I have had the courage to pull the rug out from under myself when it wasn't working. The most terrible life I can imagine is one of silent self-sacrifice: resigned to living in a situation you hate, but feeling too trapped by finances or obligation to change it.
I never thought of myself as a risk-taker but I have taken a lot of emotional risks to end up where I am today: living in a serenely happy home with a woman I love, able to devote much of my time to things that inspire me.... art, writing, books, music. Feeling young and full of potential at middle-age, ....looking forward to every day. Sometimes I almost forget how much time has gone by in my life. And then sometimes I have occasion to remember the buckskin wedding.....
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