Why I Am Still Single

 This is a bad time to live alone.  The COVID-19 virus is isolating for high-risk people like me.  Having someone else in the house could potentially provide companionship, but it could also provide more problems than it solves.  Here is my story.

I've been married twice.  My first marriage was right out of college.  We bought a small mobile home in our college town and lived in it while he went to grad school and I taught school.  (1969-1971).  My first teaching contract was for $6,400 which included directing a play as an extra-curricular responsibility.  We made it work. 

Through a series of events that happened soon after we were married, my husband had an emotional breakdown of sorts.  One morning, he confessed to me that he threw up every morning before he could face the world.  He wouldn't drive or go anywhere, nor would he touch me intimately.  I just thought he had caught a bug, so I took him to the University Infirmary where they admitted him, and before I could blink, he'd been referred for psychological services.  Apparently, he had told the doctors something that he'd never told me: throughout his childhood, he and his elder sister had been sexually molested by their paternal grandfather.  Once it became known to the family, he never saw his grandfather again, except in his casket.  He was particularly vulnerable because he was close to virtually blind.  (It kept him out of the draft during the Vietnam Conflict.)  

We sought psychological counseling.  Our first visit with one psychiatrist--I will never forget it--when we spilled out our guts to the doctor, he told me that I needed to find a lover because "little boys don't screw their mothers".  I was offended and stood up to leave.  He ordered me, angrily, to sit back down or he wouldn't help my husband.  Yeah...no.  I wasn't paying this dude $90/hr in 1972, to tell me that crap.  He wouldn't help my husband because we never went back.

My husband started counseling with a male psychologist, supervised by a psychiatrist who prescribed medications that only made him dopey.  He functioned at work but our relationship at home consisted of him being sleepy all the time, no matter what was going on.  Nothing improved.

In the course of our five-year childless marriage, I got into counseling of my own.  It clarified things for me.  I decided to divorce my husband and do life on my own.  When we split, I no longer had any feelings for him.  No love.  No anger.  No hate.  No frustration.  I wished him well and moved on.  And as far as I know, so did he.  I was all of what?  26??

 My next marriage was fraught with red flags from the very beginning.  He was married.  He told me that his marriage was over and that he would be getting a divorce.  Stupid me, I believed him.  He had two very young children who were as cute as they could be, but he was lying to both his wife and to me...and I went along with it...until--two years later--he still wasn't divorced, and things weren't moving in that direction.  At one point, I told him that he needed to go back to his wife and either work to fix his marriage or get a divorce...and if I was still around and available, we could talk about a relationship.  It was NEVER my intention to break up a family!  Things started to happen, thereafter.  I was told what he wanted me know know, but when he left his other home, he moved in with me.

A few months later, we were married.  I was happy, but there was a cloud over my head that said things weren't right.  We had a child--the light of my life--18 months later.  I was a stepmother before I was a mother, so I was struggling to know what my role was with my stepkids, whom I loved.  I did the best I could with all three.

Much happened between the wedding and the divorce.  Yes...my second divorce.  My husband decided that he loved his secretary more than he loved me.  I knew about it almost immediately.  I worked to figure things out, but he denied everything.  (Somewhere along the line, he had learned that if you lied about stuff but kept to your story, no one could prove otherwise.  That might have been true in legal cases, but cases of the heart work in other ways!)  I wasn't done with us, but he was...and wouldn't tell me.  I finally decided that there was nothing left of trust or love to want to save our relationship, and filed for divorce.  But first, our daughter told me, "We would all be healthier if you and Dad divorced."  She was right.  It was all I needed to move forward.  There were so many "dirty tricks" that happened before my daughter and I actually moved out of the house,  proving only that I was dealing with a junior high mentality.  He was treating ME as if I were the one who had strayed.  To this day, I have never figured out the logic in that...   

In the beginning of my singleness, (1991) I didn't want anything to do with men.  I was going to make it through the world all by myself.  And I did!  I had "suitors" but found fault with every one of them...or maybe they found fault with me.  I only knew that I wasn't going to parade a bunch of men as competition for my attention to my daughter.  We were carving out a life for ourselves.  There was no way I would damage our hard-realized relationship.  To me, family is everything.  I would never turn my back on that!

In all of my years as a woman, I have noticed that widowed women from good marriages are willing to try again.  Those who are exhausted from taking care of everyone but receiving nothing emotionally in return (widowed or divorced) tend to stay single.  I am one of the latter.  One of my faults is that I always set myself up as the caregiver, and that's what my second husband wanted.  There was hell to pay if I ever told him "no".  After 13 years of a dysfunctional marriage, I finally said "no" and made it stick.  There was much loss to my self-esteem, which I regained later.  When I was still teaching, one of my male students said, "Ms. McNary, you need a MAN."  My response was, "Whatever for??"  I think he was shocked, but he hadn't lived my life.

While still young enough to care about companionship, I went out with a number of fellows.  This is what happened:

    *One whom I considered a friend got weird.  He was married but was following every move I made.  He was wooing me with flowers on my car's windshield and gifts he couldn't afford during the holidays.  I had to shut him down, but we did remain friends...on my terms.

    *When I knew virtually no one else in town, I had occasion to need financial help in a pinch.  I had my daughter help me out by calling the plumber I had used a couple of times.  He dropped everything and came to my rescue.  A few days later, I paid him back.  And then came the bottom line:  He called me months later to say that I owed him sexual favors because he had helped me out.

    *There was a radio "friend" who was part of a personal network that a lot of us hung around away from the main frequencies.  He had a car radio that would fit in my daughter's vehicle, so I drove up to meet him to buy it.  Thereafter, he apparently decided that he was going to "declare" for me, even though I had no interest in him.

One day, I was out on the curb, talking to someone through his driver's window.  Then this dude drove up and started acting like a jilted boyfriend.  Who was that guy?  Why was I talking to him?  This dude wasn't local.  He had driven a bit just to check up on me.  I felt stalked.

This man continued to call me to ask me why I wouldn't "give him a chance".  I tried to explain that I wasn't interested.  He didn't like that very much but eventually gave up, but it took awhile.

     *So many men decided, "Hmmm.  Divorcee.  She must be desperate for sex.  I think I'll step up for that."  What they apparently didn't know was that I wasn't the least bit interested in casual sex.  I wanted honest companionship.  That isn't something that can be achieved on a casual basis, so, basically, I gave up.  I decided that I wasn't going to be lured into another bad relationship because of hormones--theirs or mine.  Lust has never been part of my makeup.  I had some contenders, of course, but in the end, I knew that I wasn't going to give up what I had built on my own to accommodate their needs.  Things had to be on my terms or not at all.  

And that's why I'm still single.

Now, at my age and infirmity--and the Corona Virus restraints--there are things that I regret.  I regret being alone.  I don't regret being single.  My daughter figured out early on that I wasn't on the prowl.  In fact, she somewhat joked about my pretend-suitors as being "boy toys".  She knows me better than everyone, I think!  She knew that I wasn't willing to give up my life to accommodate a man.  I thank her for that.  I don't have to make explanations.  She and her family were, and are, my life.    

 

Jesus, Don't Take the Wheel. You're Drunk!

 Before I get accused of blasphemy, I want the world to know that I am a believer.  I am a believer in everything that Jesus taught, yet am appalled by what so-called Christians are spouting in the name of God.  It's not Jesus that is drunk; it's people who twist His words to fit their personal politics.  

There can be no doubt that Jesus was a liberal.  Seek out every word that He spoke in the Gospel.  Interpret every word that He said.  They amount to:  believe, love, give, forgive, feed, take care of, welcome, and don't be afraid.   

When I was young and innocent, I believed that the American Dream meshed with what Jesus wanted for us.  Apparently, I was wrong.  Apparently, the American Dream is all about doing to others before they can do unto me.  It's all about treading on your liberty so I can have mine.  It's about blindly following a false idol, a man who is NOT God, and has not one example of how to treat others with compassion.

Frankly, I am devastated.  Donald Trump has taken from me things that I don't think I can ever get back.  I once believed in my country and its government.  I'm all done with that as the COVID virus and the stupidity that surrounds the Trump administration keeps pushing the envelope of the believable.

God help us all.    

My Newest Hero

For what it's worth, I think the US needs a lesson in who is a hero and who is not.  People are very free to call people heroes who are merely doing their jobs.  Those people who go over and above what is expected may be considered heroes, but let's look more toward the Salt of the Earth to consider whom we really revere and admire.  

I have a former student whom I will call David (because that it is name).  I had him as a senior in high school.  I remember very little about him in those days except that he was not a problem in class.  Also can't remember, nor do I care, if he was a good student or a slacker.  Not sure how it happened that I am one of his friends on Facebook now, but I am sooo glad I am!  His wife is also one of my kids.  They are living the kind of life I wish I'd had!

My roots were in the country at my maternal grandparents' farm, even though I never really lived there.  Most of my life, when we weren't overseas--weekends, holidays, and a few times when Dad was overseas without us for the Navy--was spent on that family farm that had been in the family for 150 years.  I never knew my father's parents.  They both died before I was around.  My father loved his in-law's.  Called them Mom and Dad.  I never knew anything else.  My father would have died for them.  My parents retired to that farm when my grandmother died.  Before that, we were at that farm at least twice a month so Dad could tend his HUGE garden.

My dad grew up hungry, in poverty.  He never, ever got over that feeling, long after we were financially okay.  Everywhere we lived, he had a garden.  He also hunted pheasants, squirrels, and rabbits.  In my early years, there were chickens on the farm and my dad was the executioner for Sunday's meal.  I grew up in that atmosphere.  At the farm, he could have a HUGE garden.  Seriously.  The womenfolk canned produce in an un-air-conditioned house each September, trying hard not to drip sweat into the food we were canning.

There were some funny moments.  Once, when Mom and I had grown weary of picking bushels of green beans and had plenty in the freezer, we were actually pulling the plants.  Dad came in from the garden with a handful of green beans and said, "You missed a few."  We didn't have anything to throw at him, but might have, if we did!  Also, although we had zucchini squash coming out the ears, Dad would go to his favorite tavern where SOMEONE would always bring him a couple of zukes, which he would bring home.  Mom was beside herself with what to do.  Use 'em or lose "em, I guess.

But I'm digressing.  Back to David.  Dave and Britany live in the country in Morgan County, IN.  David is a true sportsman.  Here are some of the things I love about the Dave I know now:

Dave is:

*A major gun owner, for hunting.  Not once has he said a word about worrying that the govt will take his guns away because he's not stupid about them.

*A fisherman, nonpareil.  He has a boat.  Every chance he gets, he is on Lake Monroe, catching fish, big time.  Even when he vacations out of state, he fishes...and is quite successful with it.  He fills his freezer with fish caught over the year, then sometime in the fall (about now) he will invite a raft of people (including me) to bring a chair and a dish to share for a huge fish fry.  He also encourages people to bring their instruments for impromptu jam sessions.

*A family man.  He has two teenage children that are totally included in his fishing/hunting adventures.  

*A gardener.  He keeps a big-ass garden like my dad did.  Cans the excesses and gives away what they can't use.  (I am the recipient of some of that.  After my dad died, I lost a source of home-grown tomatoes.  I am so grateful for every single one that comes my way!)

*An outdoors food scavenger.  Dave goes out mushroom hunting every spring and always comes back with a bunch of delectable 'shrooms.  Last week, he came home with a paw paw.  I didn't have a clue that paw paws were a real thing!

*A union electrician.  He isn't working now because, as he said, when the pandemic hit, he was deemed an essential employee.  "I disagreed."  He is using his assets and resources to support his family  successfully. 

*This one is really special to me:  David is a liberal.  That's not enough to endear me to him, but here is what is:  he expresses his political opinions in all honesty and without profanity.  I can "follow" him without risking my personal standards.  I also know that I don't have to support him because he is informed...he knows what's going on, and does not back down.  He doesn't need me to validate his knowledge.  I'm just glad he is who he is!

There aren't all that many success stories among my students--at least those that I know of--so I rejoice that I have a friend named Dave who brightens my days. 

      

Tidbits of Life in the Slow Lane

 My life is full of little snippets of things that happen over time that amaze me.  I often save them to share with someone, but I am finding, more and more, that no one is as interested in my stories as I am.  Thus, I will share some of them here in hopes of relieving my brain of its clutter, just to make room for more!

1.  Type A personality.  We all know people who are busy all of the time, and by "busy", I mean a mind that never shuts down.  My housekeeper is one of those.  She is in her 60s--just a little slip of a thing.  She might weigh 95 pounds after a heavy meal, but what a dynamo she is!  She comes twice a month, has my whole house clean in two hours, then finds other things to do that I haven't asked her to do.  Not surprisingly, she doesn't sleep well at night, and I know why:  her brain never turns off!

My house has a driveway that is one-car wide and two-cars long.  When Debbie comes to work, she parks behind my buggy in the drive and has to walk past it to get to the front door.  When she came on Wednesday, the first thing out of her mouth when she came in the house was, "I don't think your car is locked.  The buttons look up."  

I was flabbergasted!  How many people, including you, do you know who would notice something like that?  I chuckled at her.  I mean, she was right.  I had somehow forgotten to lock the car after a minor grocery shopping trip the day before, but I was amused that it would even pique her attention.  What I told her was, "Now I know why you don't sleep at night!"  If one focuses on every single little detail of life, the stress has to be enormous!

2.  Loving Artie.   Artie was my father-in-law for 13 years.  He was Old School Cool.  When he passed in 1994, in his 80s--the same year as my Dad--I missed him almost as much as I missed my own father.  

Artie didn't have a lot of book-learning; he was a semi-rural home-spun Hoosier man, but he was hard working and honest.  He was a man of integrity.  He had gained a reputation to that effect in the Greencastle-Fillmore, IN, area.  He and his wife were an interesting team...and "cute" from the standards of young people looking at older ones.  And I loved that man.

When I married their son, Artie was the first (and only) one to thank me for being a good stepmother to their son's children.  We were there for a visit.  Artie and I were walking up a hill alone on their property when he thanked me for making it "easy" for he and Helen (his wife) to be with their grandchildren.  I remembered it because I worked really hard to keep things normal for the kids even though their father and mother were divorced.  My own husband never even paid lip service to that.  It felt good for my efforts to be recognized, even though I wasn't looking for recognition.

Another time when we were there visiting, he came out from the back room to announce that he and Helen needed to go to town.  (They almost never left if we were there.)  His excuse?  "We are out of 'cundrums' "!  They were in their 70s...

Yet another time, there was a stray cat that came around.  The house had a big cement patio just outside of the family room's sliding glass doors.  Helen complained that everyone else seemed to be able to pet the cat, but it would run from her.  When we were there, the cat came around.  Helen went out to try to pet it while the rest of us watched through the sliding glass from inside.  Helen sat in a lawn chair.  The cat approached.  Helen reached out to pet it, but the cat started to walk away.  Not to be denied, Helen reached out, grabbed the cat by the tail, and yanked it back to her.  Needless to say, the cat didn't stick around!  From the inside of the glass door, Artie mumbled under his breath, "Well, there's your problem, dumbass."  I laughed harder than I should have!

But the thing that endeared me the most to Artie McNary was my mother's funeral.  My mom died unexpectedly.  She had been in the hospital for a mild stroke but had done so well in a month's rehab that they were ready to send her home in a couple of days.  I need to explain that my husband and I had been at odds for the entire month for a lot of reasons that should never have been.  I considered my family to be in crisis; he considered it an inconvenience.  In any case, on the day after Thanksgiving in 1986, my mother took an unexplained turn for the worse and was going to be sent to ICU.  My husband had left to visit his parents with his two eldest children.  (I refused to let our daughter go with him.)  I called to alert him that Mom was in trouble around 10:30 PM.  My next call to his parent's house was around midnight.  When I asked for my husband, Helen told me that he had left for IL after my first call, leaving his folks to take the other two kids home to northern IN.  All I could say was, "He's too late.  Mom died."

I won't go into the details of the next couple of days.  I was totally numb and don't remember a lot of it, but I DO remember turning away from Mom's casket at the end of her graveside service to see Artie approaching me with tears streaming down his face to give me a loving hug.  He and Helen drove the four hours from Greencastle, IN, to Streator, IL, to attend the funeral of a woman they didn't know, just for me.  They refused to stay for the bereavement dinner.  They only came to support ME.  I will never, ever, forget that moment.   We all remained faithful to each other even after my divorce from their son, until the inevitable end when they passed.

3.  Lethargic Students.   Last night, I was reading some posts on Reddit from teachers who were complaining about how so many of their students are failing classes right now.  This in the Corona Virus school year of some classes online and some in person.  Most of the teachers were bemoaning the idea that most of the "average" students lacked the motivation to do better--especially those who were doing online learning.

I am reminded of my days in Monrovia, many years after my beginning years of teaching when things were more like the years when I was raised.  In those days, if you got in trouble or didn't make the grade, "good enough" wasn't good enough.  Things have changed.  

I was an elementary school media specialist for 11 years after moving to the suburbs of Chicago from downstate Illinois.  Then we moved again, this time to Indiana, and I transitioned back into the classroom in order to be employed.  The very first time I gave a unit test to my students, I was shocked at how many kids failed it.  I thought I had used the wrong key, but no.  That continued all through my tenure in that district.  I began to figure that **I** was the problem.  I began to dumb things down.  I allowed kids to use their notes on tests.  I gave major bonus points that had nothing to do with English.  I spent the day before each test telling the students what would be on it.  I finally allowed open books on tests.  I made sure that my tests only covered the important points of a unit, not tiny details.  The Honors classes did much better than the regular ones, but even those weren't terrific.  Finally, I began to grade the tests "on the curve" (which in itself is an exercise in mathematical expertise and frustration).  The only test I would not grade on the curve was the semester final...and for those, I started using questions from the unit tests, having already told the students to save their tests to be used on the final.  Honestly, beyond that, I didn't know what else I could do to improve the grades.  What the kids didn't know (or care about) was that their failures were my failures.  I began to consider myself a bad teacher.  If the students couldn't pass a test of what I had taught for weeks at a time, I had to be doing something wrong.  If they weren't grasping the main concepts, was it me or them?

Eleven years after retirement, I read those posts on Reddit and realized that the problem rested with them.  I know, I know...easy to deflect...but I've come to understand that passing was good enough for them.  If they could get by with minimal effort, that's what they'd do.    They had no use for English unless it particularly interested them, when they had sport competitions and sports practices to attend and jobs in order to support their vehicles, vehicle insurance, and boyfriends/girlfriends to support.  Plus homework?  Yeah...right.  

Education in the 2020 pandemic is fraught even more with lack of encouragement.  Suddenly, parents who can barely get by, themselves, are put in the position of being homeschool monitors.  Kids are disheartened because they don't have social encouragement/competition to get them motivated.  I am so very glad that I retired before all of this happened.  What a sad situation we are in!