Mum & Dad... a love story

Towards the end of her life my Mum started getting a little bit cheesed off with my Dad. He kept asking her to marry him again... and again... and again. He seemed to completely forget that he had remarried a couple of times since they divorced in 1973. 

My mum and dad had an unusual relationship, especially after they split. I often think about what they had… and lost, and regained again. Losing mum so suddenly in 2008 made me want to write down some of her stories... particularly this one, of how they met… I believe there should always be a story teller in every family to record all that happens for the next generation. They do say a picture tells a thousand words, but to me well-written words will always give a far richer portrait.

Jose Summers had been the baby of the family, the youngest of 6 and was desperate to see the world when she left home at 17. By the time she was 21 she'd been a land army girl, a kennel maid in Lincolnshire, and a waitress at the White Hart in Stratford-upon-Avon, 

Mum in the Land Army 1947

Mum met my Dad the evening of her twenty-first birthday. She had been persuaded by some friends to spend the evening at a dance hall in the city. She wasn’t at all keen on dancing, so this certainly hadn’t been her idea. By the end of the evening her girlfriends had met up with a group of guys and they were urging mum not to be a wet blanket and go on somewhere with them, but mum wasn’t keen. She was struggling with her coat and wondering how she was going to get out of it, when she found someone was guiding her arm into her sleeve. She turned and saw it was a sailor; a very nice looking sailor with bright blue eyes and a wonderful smile. She called out to them, “It’s OK. You go on. I’m with him!”

I imagine my dad was quite surprised at this… but he’d also had a disappointing evening, so he asked if he could walk her home. By the time they reached mum’s door he was well and truly smitten. He asked her to marry him! She said, “But I can’t cook!” He said, “Oh, that's ok. I can! I can teach you.” The best he could get out of her that night was a promise of a date the next day. They arranged to meet underneath the clock tower in Leicester town centre at noon. Dad had to send a telegram to a girl his mum had been trying to set him up with, but he’d never sent one before so asked Mum to give him a hand. She agreed and started to write his name on the form: “A L A N… “ She realizes she has no idea of his last name and Dad said he’d better spell it. “P…Y…W…E…” By this time she’s really wondering what on earth could possibly come next!

It was just two Ls …PYWELL. She didn’t yet know she’d spend many years of her life spelling it out to everyone herself.

They walked and talked through the whole afternoon, went to see a film that night and then walked and talked all the way home again. By now mum is also very taken with this young sailor. 

Mum and Dad - Malta 1952

I’d like to share a poem Mum wrote 4 years after they divorced… it gives me a wonderful picture of their marriage, which at times was a bit of a rocky road. My dad was sometimes away at sea for a year to 18 months at a time, but the honeymoons every now and then were lovely.


Marry in haste - repent in leisure
that's how the saying goes
But that's not true in every case
and I am the one who knows
My husband and I "met and married"
in the space of twenty-eight days
When one falls in love at first sight
it puts life in a "golden haze"

I enjoyed my marriage; it lasted
just twenty three years.
With all the usual ups and downs
through sickness, joy and tears.
We had a daughter, then two sons
to us "Our Imps" from birth
Finding the pleasures of Motherhood
seemed my reason for being on earth.

All the "happenings" as they grew
talking, walking, cuts to heal.
Toddlers, teenagers, now adults, yes
my memories are so real.
My husband and I have now parted
it seemed the best thing to do
I was just a home bird, while he
was a "boy in blue".

The life he loved - the "Social Whirl"
I never enjoyed at all.
So it was, "you go your way, and I'll go mine"
I hope you have "a ball"
Four years have passed since that day
we are still the best of friends.
If I can stay as contented as now
I'll be happy till my life ends.

After they divorced they never did lose touch, in fact, believe it or not, my mum hosted my dad’s third wedding - now there’s another story. He and his new wife, Sheila, stayed with mum and her second husband, Wally, a number of times during their marriage. (and that's a whole other story!)

Mum & Dad... 1975, 2 years divorced, still lots to talk about!

Mum and Dad wrote to each other regularly for the rest of their lives, and when Dad’s writing got a little too shaky he phoned her almost every week. And yes, he frequently asked her to marry him again. He would say, “Oh, Cuddly, why did we ever part?” She could have easily replied, “Oh, let me count the ways! You drank like a fish and gambled our money away." But Mum, who had been very happily single for the last twenty years of her life, just said, “Oh, Al, it would never work out. Best keep things the way they are…”

After we lost our darling Mum in 2008, my brother Mike and I visited Dad just after Mum's funeral.  He was living in care home in Portsmouth and wasn't able to travel up north to the memorial service.  But we needed to tell him face to face what had happened; it was a very emotional meeting.    

It took him a while to understand and he cried a fair bit. But then we had a bit of a singsong together, singing some of his favourite Nat King Cole songs, and he seemed OK... he then asked me who I was again. 

I admit I didn't talk to Dad often after that, Mike was always so much closer to him.   And then we lost him 2 years later it took me a while to reconcile my feelings.  It's always confusing that you can truly love two people in such completely different ways.  It used to make me sad that although mum and I were so much in synch, I couldn't ever get close to Dad but I've managed to do that, through my writing here in Remembering Dad... Swinging on a Star. 

It was incredibly cathartic to do this piece.  

Born This Way...

"What can I do for you, sonny?"

The shopkeeper's words reached my seven-year-old brain, and went ZING!  There's no doubt that I probably turned a bright shade of red, not quite knowing how to react, but I do remember giving him a big ol' grin, thinking,

"Wow!  He thinks I'm a BOY! Yeah... how cool is that?!" 

There has to be a ton of messed up reasons for my immediate reaction to his comment.  You could blame our patriarchal society for one, especially back then.  I mean, we’re talking 1960 here.  At that time, there really were no clearly defined female role models for the average girl.  Yes, they were around, they always had been, but they weren’t widely celebrated.  OK, I had my mum, who was pretty awesome - she could fix my bike and was a lot of fun.  All my friends loved her and would knock at our door asking if she could come out to play.  

But boys were so much cooler than girly girls... Girls were just plain bloody silly.  Most of them couldn't play soccer… or throw a ball.  And I prided myself on my good throwing arm!

Yes, I was a tree-climbing, jeans-wearing, soccer-playing, jumping-off-roofs kinda girl… just a big ol' Tomboy.  And as for wearing a dress, hah!  Mum used to have to have to chase me around the house to get me into one!

It was a recent episode of CBC's The Next Chapter that got me thinking about this again.  I listened to Shelagh Rogers' fascinating conversation with author Ivan Coyote, talking about the book, Tomboy Survival Guide.  I was completely enthralled and ended up sitting in my car in my underground parking spot until it was over.

I'd never heard of Ivan before, but as soon as I got in, I had to find out more.  So began my internet journey exploring more of what this amazing human being has accomplished.  There are lots of books... a TED talk, and then I found this super video on YouTube...

I think I'm in love.  💗 

I've since read the book and absolutely loved it!  It's very funny and has some incredibly poignant memories.  It tells stories of the pleasures and difficulties growing up a tomboy in Canada's Yukon.  Ivan’s journey from tomboy to adulthood, as a person who doesn’t fit neatly into boxes or identities or labels is a complex one… far more complicated than mine. Listening to the radio interview brought so much back to me.  And those memories certainly made me give my gender identity some pretty serious thought as I explored the feelings I’d had as a young girl all those many years ago.  It made me ponder if I had been born 50 years later, would things have turned out differently?

The book talks about many firsts: the first time Ivan was mistaken for a boy; or when a bikini top was discarded to join the boys at the local swimming pool..." 

As I said, I related completely.  That could have been me.

I remember the day that shopkeeper mistook me for a boy like it was yesterday.   And, ok... I may not have discarded my bikini top to join the boys, because I never bothered actually wearing one! I don't think they were even available for a girl back then.  But I never wore a top if we were out playing Cowboys and Indians, why the heck would I?! It wasn't until I was around 10 or 11 that my mum said that perhaps I shouldn't be doing that any more... that was a sad day for sure.

Left to Right: Me age 10, brother Mike age 8, my dad and brother Ed, age 3

Since puberty hit, I had honestly never questioned my gender, but the memories this book brought back to me, led me to want to do more research about the whole question of gender identity. How come I didn't end up like Ivan?  After having the exact same thoughts and feelings as a child, was it merely a preconceived predestined journey for me to meet a guy, get married and have kids, never once questioning the journey I'd taken? 
   
I came across many remarkable stories about some amazing people, who have grown up feeling the exact opposite of me.  But I think it was this TED Talk by Norman Spack that really opened my eyes about the subject.  And I realized after listening to it, just how lucky I had been when the doctor said, "It's a girl!" when I was born.  It really isn't always that cut and dried, and not everyone is so fortunate.
   

My life journey was definitely not as complicated as Ivan's was, to live as "a predominantly estrogen based organism" but never being completely comfortable with body that came with it.  

It makes me wonder about how different things are now with this new freedom of opportunity for the kids born in more recent times, who have the ability to make life choices, separating their sexuality and gender identity, sometimes at an incredibly young age. 

As my blog moniker suggests, I certainly have no regrets about the way things turned out.  Living and working for most of my adult life with my Jim - it was 40 years together until he passed away in 2012. And now working with both my kids in the company that Jim and I created is pretty amazing and it constantly surprises me how well it works. It's been 28 years working with my Karen.  

My life could have turned out completely differently had I made other choices if I'd been a little bolder perhaps.  But that big ol’ Tomboy of years gone by really hasn’t changed that much.  She’s still here, alive and kicking, still rocking things when they need to rocked... still challenging things when they need to be challenged.  And despite the osteoarthritis, she most definitely turned out to be the soccer-playing grandma rather than the girly girl grandma who knits.  

And that makes me happy.