It is only my third post and already I am breaking form. I am not beginning this post with a relevant quotation from some distinguished source. Other than the words of my title, from Frank Barrone (I shall explain in due time), I am beginning with my own words. After all, how does one top a post that includes quotes from such luminary thinkers as Jung, Fromm, and Fall Out Boy.
Today, June 23rd, 2007, is my parents' 53rd wedding anniversary. Congratulations! They will never read this congratulatory sentiment since they do not own a computer. My inaugural effort at blogging already touched on my mother's deep and profound fear of computers. She truly believes that these seditious machine will one day overthrow their unsuspecting "masters" and take over the world (insert evil laugh here). The question I must ask here is this: Is longevity in marriage, career, or anything else an event that should be lauded and celebrated? I remember vividly watching Cal Ripken, Jr. move towards Lou Gehrig's record for most consecutive games played. The nation was enthralled and interest in baseball surged temporarily. We often see a couple celebrating a wedding anniversary after many years together and think about how wonderful it is and how happy it must be. Is this necessarily the reality of the situation? I definitely think that people tend to stay in some situations far longer than they should out of fear or lack of motivation to change.
Let's examine my parents. My mother, who was a beauty queen until she married, was dating my father's cousin when my father came home on a military leave. His cousin, who, strangely enough, shares the same first and last names as my father, warned her not to meet him, since he had stolen every girlfriend he had ever had. Now, my dad's cousin should never, under any circumstance, have made this statement to my mother. This was the equivalent of saying, "Don't open that box, its full of gold!" Of course the inevitable came to pass and they ended up meeting and marrying.
During my father's time in the military, he participated in the atomic bomb testing in the Nevada desert. He has amazing stories of what he saw during that time, along with no teeth and no hair. My mother had seven miscarriages and was told she would never have a successful pregnancy, so my parents adopted my brother. Nine years later, and with much complication, I was born.
My father chose his career on a dare. He was working as a produce manager in a grocery store in New Jersey, where a local police officer would often come inside for shelter during rainstorms. The officer's wife would often meet him there and bring him food and dry socks, or whatever. My father, who has made sarcasm an art form (more on that in a moment), would tease the officer mercilessly. After one particular bout of insults and persistent ribbing from my father, the officer bet my dad that he would "never be able to do his job." The gauntlet thus tossed, my father became a police officer and stuck with it until retirement to prove his point.
In addition to his job as a police officer, my dad kept his "respectable job" as a grocery manager, in addition to working odd jobs around town. When we were growing up, he was never home unless it was to sleep. My father took pride in providing for his family. That was his single goal in life. Unfortunately, my brother's descent into mental illness at age 17 brought his ideal world crashing down around him, and I watched this man who had never let anything get to him, whose motto had always been, "It'll all work out" become a shell of his former jovial self.
My father had always worked too hard, smoked and drank too much, and enjoyed an appetite akin to Henry VIII. He is also one of the most stubborn Dutchmen to ever walk the planet (I have been accused of being a close second). His penchant for sarcasm is legendary, as are his sense of humor, kindheartedness, and giving nature. He would do anything for anyone. For most of my life, that I remember anyway, my parents have gotten along about as well as Frank and Marie Barrone from the TV series Everybody Loves Raymond. That is to say, they have always fought like the proverbial cats and dogs. They have been insulting and sarcastic and mean-spirited to each other for most of their 53 years together. Did they keep their marriage together out of fear? Has it been kept on life support well past its viable life span? They have been through the miscarriages, alcoholism, dangers of a law enforcement career, raising children, mental illness, my brother's death in 1998, my mom's stroke in 1999, my dad's four bypasses in 2001, the deaths of many loved ones, and most recently an onslaught of health problems for both of them, including my father's frightening mini-stroke while driving in January, 2006. Now I am about to put them through my mid-life "transformation" (that has a nice ring to it, don't you think?).
Its important to understand that my mother keeps pictures and newspaper clippings of me all over her office (yes, my parents both still work full-time in their 70's - my mom as Assistant Manager of a mobile home park and my dad as a "golf pro"... at a miniature golf course) and brags about all of my accomplishments to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen. My parents consider me "all they have left" in life. I really hope my crisis doesn't kill them.
“The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.” – Carl Jung
My parents have always considered my a little strange. That is actually quite an understatement. They consider me extremely strange. I am not very much like them in my overall philosophy of life. I have actually cultivated this reputation for strangeness with them. I let all of my quirks show proudly when I'm with my parents. There's nothing quite as invigorating as shocking mom and dad. I'm just scared of putting a 2,000 volt mid-life current through their aging systems.
One thing that people would not expect from my dad is his strong belief in his intuition. When he used to tell people that everything would work out, he did so because he KNEW. His intuition served him well as a cop. He once found the target of a manhunt simply by walking through dense woods at night, right to where the suspect had lain in a hole and covered himself with leaves and debris. My father pointed his gun at the man, who he claims not to have known was there, and the suspect simply gave himself up. He could usually tell you who was about to visit the house several hours in advance, or who was about to knock on the door. He had a knack for finding lost items. He would lie in bed and a vision of the item would come to him. When he got up, he would take you to the item. It was amazing. Of course, it didn't always work. There is an infamous story about him giving a bank robber a ride out of town... in his patrol car. When it did, it sent chills down your spine. He still does it occasionally and he has passed this talent along to me. I have a strong sense of intuition, almost transentience. In fact, a number of the books I have found helpful lately are based on the concept of living intuitively, from Blink by Malcolm Gladwell to the books by Carol Adrienne. It was intuition that started me on the path towards my transformation, in the form of my speech, and it is intuition that has continued to tell me which direction I should be traveling. Call them signs from God, omens, portents, prophecies, the Law of Attraction, or just plain coincidences, intuitive thoughts have shaped my life to a large extent.
It seems the original intent of this post has been subverted. My musings about whether or not longevity should be cause for celebration have morphed into something else entirely. Maybe my parents to deserve a reward, a plaque, a medal, a statue in the center of town, or even an entire building dedicated to them. They have accomplished something that not everyone accomplishes. Is the value of the accomplishment dubious? Does it matter? Persistence is a rare enough trait in today's disposable society. I now doubt that I will be able to retire after an entire career in the same profession. It remains to be seen if my marriage will stand the tests of time and transformation. We shall see. Discovery is the name of the game. The price is high. There is much at stake.
"No one gets out of here alive." - Jim Morrison
