It's just after 7 this sleepy Saturday morning, I've read the paper, had coffee and breakfast (and I'm taking "the fifth" on what I ate, because I tease daughter Donna on liking left-over pizza for B.) Mainly, I'm feeling blessed.
Blessed with a daughter who loves to cook and bake and does so, wonderfully, and takes such good care of Jean and me. With a son-in-law who has become a fantastic pal. With another daughter who is equally caring. With a granddaughter, Sarah, who comforts me about this blog and was my pal as a child. (She sang hymns while roller-skating in the basement while I was editing and publishing my newsletter, "Memoirs," 1984. She was 10 or 11.)
Blessed with having been raised by my Dad from 9 to 17 after Mom went to heaven. (Turns out Dad was one of the "pioneers" in the single-parent experience.) We had some housekeepers from time to time...none of which I could "take to." (I've often wondered if that was because I feared his re-marrying? That's psycho-babble for something that sounds plausible?) I became a "whistle-blower" if one of these well-meaning ladies bent one of Dad's rules. (One, for instance, was using the grocery budget to have groceries delivered, when she was supposed to go to the store, herself, while I was at school.)
Above all, blessed with my sweetest little angel, Jeannie. I am convinced, even though I didn't know her until she was 16, that she has never held a bad thought about another human being in her whole life. Because of an alcoholic father, Jean was forced to attend 8 different high schools! His drinking caused them to move frequently. I talked her into marrying me just before her final HS semester, so that, years later she got her diploma via GED test. Yes, we were "babies." I was still in the navy (19 1/2) and she was 17 3/4. She has put up with a lot of dumb decisions by me in our 61 3/4 years, but I'm not ready to confess all of them. (She forgave them before they could even take hold.)
In the fall of 1958, I had a new job teaching at Charleston, IL, High school, making all of about
$80 a week. My Dad had just come to live with us because the cost of living had become too much for him on social security in Chicago. Jean came to me one day with a question she had been carrying a while. Would I mind if she went to college there in Charleston? (It seems she had always dreamt of becoming a teacher!) (Of course I agreed.) She came within just a couple of courses of getting her B.A. in 30 months! She took those, including abnormal psychology, via correspondence. (Not a bad idea for understanding her husband!) Jean went on to become a wonderful teacher and "teacher of the year" for her district in a suburb of Chicago, in 1974. We are enjoying our golden years (I guess they are called) together, just as we enjoyed all 61 of the ones before them. (Secret: we manage to tell each other a dozen times a day that we love each other and never tire of hearing it, of course.) I wish everyone could know my Jeannie.
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