Pair of Aces

This picture is the perfect epitome of my parents. My mother is a lovely woman who is usually composed in the face of insurmountable odds. She's a good WASP. This is what happens when you grow up in a political family (her father, my grandfather, was the Deputy Secretary of Defense). My father on the other hand, though incredibly bright, never wanted to play by "The Man's" rules. Therefore he would decide what was necessary, not what the public thought. Here is a simple photo that shows a couple that has been married for an amazing 41 years. When you look at their story, however, it's amazing that they ever got together, let alone stayed together. It's a testament to the power of love.

My mother, as I mentioned before was born into a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant family. My grandfather was the executive vice president of GM and was Deputy Secretary of Defense. It's very odd, but I have all these photos of presidents and pilots (such as Buzz Aldrin) signed to him. It makes me feel very small. Anyway, she is the third of four sisters. Her two older sisters have both passed on. I have mentioned before that my mother is a genius of the first order. At some point I expect her to get a MacArthur Grant. Yes, she's that smart. Anyway, she's always had to fight to be considered an equal in this male dominated world (I would know, I'm a man).

While my mother was growing up in a pretty well-to-do situation, my father (we all remember the secret agent) was a holocaust kid. Most of his family was killed by the Nazis (Yes, Virginia, there was a Holocaust. Those naysayers are...well...idiots). He grew up in New York and had to travel around alot because his father and mother couldn't take care of him. At the age of 15, he went to Columbia for college. This is a man who, desperate for a place to live while in college, lived behind a boiler in a small room. He, too, was a genius. It was the ultimate buddy movie pairing: My mother was book smart, my father street smart...but I'm getting ahead of myself. Dad was known for two things: He was a heavy drinker who could outdo anyone, and he was a ladies' man. At one point, my father had a rival he disliked very much. This rival talked WAY too much trash talk to my father. Now, my father had this talent, he could look like he was going to walk down a flight of stairs and then take a whole flight in one step. It sounds odd, but I'm told it was amazing. This rival was talking to my father and staring at him while they walked down the steps. Fed up, my father decided to take the last flight in one step, the rival, tried to keep up. Not smart. The rival tumbled to the bottom while my father was fine. I don't think the rival ever bothered my father again.

The story of how my parents got together has passed into legend in my family. The story isn't fully clear, but it's as follows:

Mom had broken off an engagement to a nice preacher's son. He was, "boring," at best. Oddly enough, he called my mother shortly after my grandmother died. It was creepy, to her anyway. Anyway, newly single, my mother wasn't sure she was ready to re-enter the dating pool. Enter Betsy, her best friend. Betsy was going to a party being held by my father and his friends. The invite said to bring a bottle of alcohol, which is genius because most people forget to take it home...not that I would know...er...yeah. So, instead of the alcohol, Betsy decided to take my mother. Once at the party, my mother and father hit it off. He has an acerbic wit which my mother could match. He would quote books only to find my mother correcting him. They were perfect for each other, because they liked the same things and could out talk anyone else in the room. Still, my mother had some reservations about my father. As I mentioned before, he was a drinker. This is a man who once got a grade he didn't like in a class and dared the professor to a drinking game. If my father won, he received a higher grade (such as an A), but if my father lost, he would fail the class. Several drinks later (legend has it that it was two full bottles of whiskey) my father had a higher grade. BUT...he couldn't walk or sit down for two days. He just crawled around his abode puking.

So she had reservations (which were justified). However, my father really liked my mother. So, one night, he took her to the White Horse restaurant in New York. For those of you who don't know, this is a famous place where Dylan Thomas drank all the alcohol that later killed him. There's a plaque marking where he fell down before he schlepped over to the Hotel Chelsea to die. Anywho, Dad really wanted to show my mother that he would change for her, so he ordered (oh I wish I was kidding) 17 whiskey sours (17!!!!). He then drank them all and stacked the glasses up. He turned to my mother, knocked all the glasses down and said, "Nothing will ever come between us again." He then quit drinking. He has the occasional drink, but they are few and far between now. He loved (and still loves) her so much that he willed himself to stop the things she didn't like.

While they were happy, their families were not. My father's parents weren't happy that he was dating a schiksa. My mother's family thought my father was a grifter. Both sets of parents were mortified. It was because of this that my parents eloped. One day, they went to the justice of the peace and got married. No fanfare, just married over a lunch break. They told no one, but were discovered by my aunt Carolyn in a most embarrassing fashion. Carolyn was in town visiting and was at my mother's apartment (unaware that my parents were now living together). She kept waiting for my father to leave as the night went on, but he didn't. Finally, she was told the truth, and she was utterly shocked. To compound things, the cot she was sleeping on that night broke and pinned her into the wall. She was not happy. When their parents found out they were married, their parents were mortified. My mother's father almost disowned her. My father's mother cried. It was not a happy time. Yet, they persevered. Even though people around them said it wouldn't last, and even though their parents were mortified, my parents made it last. For 41 years. It gives me hope in my marriage. Oh, dear reader, there's nothing wrong in my five year marriage, but you never know what lies over the next bend, do you? When my wife and I first got together, alot of people and family members just weren't sure it was going to last. Yet, we have (so far).

I look at my parents now and that despite all the crap they've been through (my father's heart and gall bladder surgery, three kids, the loss of their parents and two siblings/in-laws), they still have this bond that no one understands but them. That should be what people strive for when they look for love: It's not about Prince Charming riding in on a white horse to sweep the woman off her feet. It's not about finding that girl you saw on the train. Love is about finding someone who understands what you are telling them and responds in kind. Love is finding a person who helps you roll with the punches that life will inevitably hit you with during the course of your life. My mother and father are now older people (I even get mail about their senior citizen years here in Minnesota. Why is that a problem? They live in New York). Still they care about each other. They have little in-jokes that only they get. I've watched them walk with each other arm and arm and discuss things that no one else understands. They have a bond that is simply unbreakable.

Let this be a lesson to you, dear reader. Just because the world tries to break you apart, doesn't mean you aren't right for each other. If there is a spark that holds you together, then hold together.

Hopefully this story fills you with a sense that anyone has a chance at happiness. I've probably sounded a little too down recently, and this is my chance to make up for it.

Oh and Mom and Dad, if you ever read this: I love you very much...and no more book jokes please.