August 3rd

August 3rd.

On this date, August 3rd, in 1932, my parents were married after the Wednesday night prayer meeting in Tremont Temple Baptist Church, Boston MA. That much is fact. Anything else I say here is conjecture, judgment, and supposition.

They couldn’t have been more different: my father, 38, the world-traveling able-bodied seaman; my mother , 42, the Paul Revere House docent who had lived her life within a thirty-mile radius of Boston.

As different as they were, they had two things in common: a deep and abiding faith in Jesus and a loyalty to their large families. More importantly, they believed in and supported each other. I never heard an unkind word pass between them, never heard a raised voice. My mother was the one to say, “Everything will be all right.” They would each say, “Our wants are few.”

They no doubt signed on for a quiet, predictable life, living in an apartment on Beacon Hill, walking 6 days a week to the North End to work. And then, surprise! After six years of that life I burst onto the scene. When I was a teenager, I began to feel guilty that I had been a burden to my sedate parents, but when I suggested this, my father replied, “Honey without you your mother and I would have lived a boring life. But you and your energy have opened the world to us. You have kept us young.”

I don’t know exactly what it is I wanted to say here, but whatever it is, I haven’t said it. Originally I thought to write about their marriage until I realized that although I had much to say about my father and much to say about my mother, I had little to say about them as a couple. They were both gone by the time I was twenty-three, so they are forever frozen in those early memories, and perhaps, anyway, it is always difficult for the child to see the parents as a couple.

Be that as it may, let me quote an anniversary card I saw years ago: “I’m awfully glad you two got married and that I was the kid in your baby carriage.”

Dorothy C. Judd      (c)   2015

Next post: Monday, August 10th

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About twofelines

What to say? I love my family and friends. I also love kids, cats, and books. Oh, and potato chips and Cheez-its. I am a retired teacher who still loves to be in the classroom, so now I am a substitute teacher.
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2 Responses to August 3rd

  1. Ann says:

    Amen. My parents married May 10th, 1931, after running off to Maryland to marry – during my father’s senior prom at Plainfield High School. They fought throughout their turbulent marriage of 42 years. Mom divorced Dad after that. But they spoke each other’s names before they died, two months apart, at the age of 67. I was 40 and my sister 38. Life sure calmed down, but we still miss them, and being on or watching their “Merry Go Round.” Oy!

  2. Carol D'Agostino says:

    My parents married in May, 1937. They bought a house and settled in and I arrived in September 1938 followed by my two brothers. My Dad died in 1982. My mother lived in the house until last year, 2014, when we had to move her to a Nursing Home. She lived alone in the house almost as many years as they lived there together.

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