Affairs of the Heart

I don't know if affairs are really of the heart. What I do know is that they are heart-wrenching. My dad was what is fondly known as a philanderer. Where in the world did that term come from? Sounds dashing doesn't it? Well, it's not.

I didn't always know that my dad ran around on my mom. I knew their relationship was almost always strained. I thought that was how everyone's marriage was. It wasn't until I was 19 or 20 that I knew for sure . Daddy was a graduate assistant for Dale Carnegie courses and there was a woman in one of his courses, Ruth. She was older, divorced, attractive, and Daddy began spending a lot of time with her. He helped her do all the things a single woman needed help with. She had a cute little single sister and he helped her too. He confided in me. What a treat to find out that what you suspected was true. He loved her. He loved Mother, but he loved her. Wow.

Now the only parent to whom I could talk had put me in a position in which I could no longer talk with him. I was so disappointed. He needed someone, I knew he did. Mother was impossible, but this was not right and it wasn't right for him to tell me! What in the world was he thinking!

He had one other affair that I knew about for sure. This one was with a woman named Dixie. Dixie worked in the office with Daddy. She was not attractive or cute, but she was available. Daddy actually left Mother for Dixie and moved in with her. I was older now. Ann was the same age I'd been before. Amazing coincidence huh? AND you know what else? He told Ann about it! What makes a man want to tell his daughters about his affairs?

I had the boys and we were in Atlanta. Mother and Daddy had moved to Dallas and Daddy left Mother. Pretty despicable. Lower than I thought Daddy could stoop. Lower than even Mother deserved. She drove out to stay with us for a while and he cleaned out a couple of their checking accounts. I didn't think he had it in him. He was always the generous one. He was always the one to make sure everyone was taken care of.

They reconciled eventually. Did Daddy stop? I doubt it.

I remember when I first came to grips with the fact that my childhood wasn't normal thinking that the reason for this was that my dad was a philanderer. Now I know that this wasn't the entire reason. It took me a while to realize why I thought that. My entire adult life, and possibly long before, that's what I'd been told. It's not true, but it's what I'd been told. It is part of the truth but not the entire truth.

Birthdays and Christmases

As a kid, I remember one birthday. I'm not sure how old I was but we were in Houston. My Mother's mom had had a nervous breakdown. It was so memorable, that I don't remember whether my folks were in Texarkana or whether they were back home. I just remember that MaMa Beall had that nervous breakdown and they'd been gone.

I remember one childhood Christmas. We left Fort Worth to move to El Paso over the holidays. We had a little net tree in the car and I got a Dating Game. Daddy got strep throat and I remember them complaining because he went to a charity hospital and he had to wait and wait and wait. Finally he asked who he had to pay to see someone and he got to see someone really fast.

When I was in the 11th Grade right before Thanksgiving, my dad had a massive heart attack. I remember that Christmas because I didn't think I'd have another with him. He was home by Christmas though. I was grateful.

When I turned 18, we had a football game that night and my friends Rita and Annette and I went to the game and then out for dinner. I don't remember where we went afterwards! I do remember sitting in the stands and cheering. They got me a corsage with streamers. One of those big ones in the school colors with the school names on it. We went out to the parking lot arm in arm when it was over.

Faded Photographs

I have said for ages that my life started when I married Ron. I did not say it lightly. I did not say it in the biblical sense -- for a man shall leave his family and cleave to his wife. I really mean it. Essentially, my memories begin with Ron. My sister will mention an event and I look at her blankly. She gives surrounding details and I still don't remember.

Consider a photo album that has been through a flood. Pictures have been blurred and faded. You can pick out details if you look hard enough. You can remember the surrounding events if you spend enough time with each page. And occasionally a picture is remarkably, amazingly, astoundingly clear. The time-line is odd and disjointed. Dates come in and out in a jumbled fashion. You are young, you are old. It is yesterday, it is years ago.

My sister and I have been loosely estranged for years. The reasons will become clear as I write, I hope, I'm sure, they must. That's part of the purpose of this journey. Some things must be dealt with. Some things can't stay hidden. The question is, can the faded become clear?