This was beautiful. Really lovely, and really thoughtful. It brought many old memories back to the fore, as well as many thoughts about the political-personal. I hope it will be ok to share some of them....
Marilyn and I were married in 1973. We first met as teenagers and then (after I finally came to my senses and realised she was THE o…
This was beautiful. Really lovely, and really thoughtful. It brought many old memories back to the fore, as well as many thoughts about the political-personal. I hope it will be ok to share some of them....
Marilyn and I were married in 1973. We first met as teenagers and then (after I finally came to my senses and realised she was THE one) lived together for three years prior to getting married (having the first four months or so of that in a commune definitely made the adjustment to this new life together easier).
Marriage was something we discussed starting only about that third year. Our reluctance and anxiety was in part political. 50 years ago marriage was viewed in our circle of friends as a hopelessly bourgeois institution, something to which we could/should never ‘surrender’. (But while we shared much of this resistance we were never quite that hostile!) And in part very personal, of course. Mostly, we were both afraid it would change things... would change ‘us’, what we had together. Basically, we were scared.
Marilyn was the one who really led the way - she asked me, and asked me again, and gently assured me. And honestly, though, we never did get formally engaged - there was no engagement ring I mean, no announcement - a significant reluctance on both our parts to the formal action itself, and yes our continuing fears. We just considered ourselves ‘engaged’ (I know we both occasionally even referred to each other then when with others as ‘my fiancé’.)
And also, one quite big reason to get married was we wanted to have a baby - very much so. And here is where the political and personal were deeply intertwined. We knew having a child ‘out of wedlock’ (OMG yes, that is how people talked about such things) was a challenge, culturally. We had just bought a tiny row house in a neighbourhood of mainly cops and firefighters, and started to make many friends there. And we fibbed: we told them we were married. Political. Scared again. Being ‘really married’ would make things much easier to handle.
Yet too, almost all our friends were aghast we were marrying. Why oh why? they kept asking. Political. We tried to ignore. We were also in complete agreement that we would marry at a Justice of the Peace. Marilyn especially. And only my brother and Marilyn’s sister would attend, as the required witnesses. No parents. Afterward we would meet them at a restaurant to celebrate.
So on the date we drove out from our home in the Feltonville neighborhood of Philly to 69th Street in Upper Darby, the closet J of the P, and got married. (I remeber he played a record of ‘Here Comes the Bride’ for every ceremony - there were several couples in the waiting room with us.) Still a little scared, really, but very very happy.
Only two friends - a couple who themselves had gotten married and had a baby - gave us any celebratory recognition. The rest were still mystified. Or quite disappointed. But we knew we were right. And almost 50 years on, and with our son and daughter in law and three grandchildren to embrace, we know for sure we were.
Should have added (but was already too long)... do not want to be misunderstood, in what I am saying: we lacked some courage then - looking back, we both now recognise this and would now, today, basically not give a damn about political arguments over what we experienced as personally making a very special, loving commitment for life - but that was another time, and again, we lacked something (but still did the right thing anyway :))
This was beautiful. Really lovely, and really thoughtful. It brought many old memories back to the fore, as well as many thoughts about the political-personal. I hope it will be ok to share some of them....
Marilyn and I were married in 1973. We first met as teenagers and then (after I finally came to my senses and realised she was THE one) lived together for three years prior to getting married (having the first four months or so of that in a commune definitely made the adjustment to this new life together easier).
Marriage was something we discussed starting only about that third year. Our reluctance and anxiety was in part political. 50 years ago marriage was viewed in our circle of friends as a hopelessly bourgeois institution, something to which we could/should never ‘surrender’. (But while we shared much of this resistance we were never quite that hostile!) And in part very personal, of course. Mostly, we were both afraid it would change things... would change ‘us’, what we had together. Basically, we were scared.
Marilyn was the one who really led the way - she asked me, and asked me again, and gently assured me. And honestly, though, we never did get formally engaged - there was no engagement ring I mean, no announcement - a significant reluctance on both our parts to the formal action itself, and yes our continuing fears. We just considered ourselves ‘engaged’ (I know we both occasionally even referred to each other then when with others as ‘my fiancé’.)
And also, one quite big reason to get married was we wanted to have a baby - very much so. And here is where the political and personal were deeply intertwined. We knew having a child ‘out of wedlock’ (OMG yes, that is how people talked about such things) was a challenge, culturally. We had just bought a tiny row house in a neighbourhood of mainly cops and firefighters, and started to make many friends there. And we fibbed: we told them we were married. Political. Scared again. Being ‘really married’ would make things much easier to handle.
Yet too, almost all our friends were aghast we were marrying. Why oh why? they kept asking. Political. We tried to ignore. We were also in complete agreement that we would marry at a Justice of the Peace. Marilyn especially. And only my brother and Marilyn’s sister would attend, as the required witnesses. No parents. Afterward we would meet them at a restaurant to celebrate.
So on the date we drove out from our home in the Feltonville neighborhood of Philly to 69th Street in Upper Darby, the closet J of the P, and got married. (I remeber he played a record of ‘Here Comes the Bride’ for every ceremony - there were several couples in the waiting room with us.) Still a little scared, really, but very very happy.
Only two friends - a couple who themselves had gotten married and had a baby - gave us any celebratory recognition. The rest were still mystified. Or quite disappointed. But we knew we were right. And almost 50 years on, and with our son and daughter in law and three grandchildren to embrace, we know for sure we were.
Should have added (but was already too long)... do not want to be misunderstood, in what I am saying: we lacked some courage then - looking back, we both now recognise this and would now, today, basically not give a damn about political arguments over what we experienced as personally making a very special, loving commitment for life - but that was another time, and again, we lacked something (but still did the right thing anyway :))