Look! It's a teeny tiny Pope!

April 17, 1954

Last week – Battalion came back Monday and so did Regt.  It sho’ was good to see them!  Willie and I went downtown and had a party!

Tuesday Hilde and I went down to the Tuggle’s to dinner.

Wednesday Willie, Bob Walker and I went to the Wittlesbach for dinner.  Then we went by the Mariandal – party!  (That's two parties in 3 days - and I have no doubt there was some serious partying going on at the Tuggle's as well.  I'm surprised she could manage to drag herself out of bed to get to school every day!)

Thursday – 15^th we left for Munich where we spent the night.  Friday morning we left for Rome and it was snowing.  It snowed on us most of the way.  After riding all day and most of the night we finally got to Rome and “sunny Italy”!  But tain’t sunny!  It’s mighty cold.  We are split up into three hotels and we got the worse – Milani (this hotel is still in Rome, or at least one with the same name!  It gets very good reviews these days!).  It doesn’t even have heat!

 On the train to Italy

This money here is almost as bad as in Greece – it’s tremendous – 620 lire to $1.

         This morning we went sightseeing.  We were going to the Vatican Museum, but there was a tremendous crowd so we didn’t get in.  (Mother never was one for crowds, so I'm certain she was the one saying "let's not wait to go into this".)  Later we did go to the Church of St. Peter which is the largest in the world – it’s tremendous and beautiful.  This is where Nero had his circus – chariot races.  St. Peter was crucified and buried here in 1^st century AD.  Constantine built a church here in the 4^th century.  Then Julius II destroyed what was left of it and started the present one in the 15^th century.  It was finally finished in 1612.  Three people worked on it – Rafael and Michelangelo.  Was to have been in the shape of a Greek Cross.

 Crowd at Vatican Museum

We passed the Celestial Palace which is linked to the Vatican.  It was a mausoleum and was used as a fortress during the middle ages by the Popes.

Celestrial Palace near St. Peters

Saw square that used to be used for chariot races.  Now has 3 fountains.  The one in the middle is the largest and represents the 4 rivers of the then known continents.  Went to the Pantheon – best preserved Pagan temple – built by Agripa in 27 BC.  Damaged by fire and restored in 170 AD.  Still remains intact because it became a Christian church.  The only light is a hole in the dome.  First two Italian kings are buried here and so is Rafael.

                                    

                                           Pantheon

Went to Mussolini’s forum where he wanted to hold the Olympic Games in ’48.  Stadium in the back is surrounded by marble statues of athletes donated from the 94 provinces.

 Mussolini's Forum

        This afternoon Peggy, Margaret, Hilde and I went window shopping and nearly froze.  Also got lost several times.

April 18, 1954

It was warmer outside today, but our room is still like an icebox!  (So, interestingly, my experiences with hotels in Europe is that the rooms were hot.  Most places do not have a/c year round, so if it gets warm early, you're out of luck.  Maybe they turned off the heat at a certain time of the year back then.)

Last night we went on a night club tour.  We got on a bus of Danes by mistake.  When the guide found out we were Americans, he nearly had a fit – he didn’t want anyone except Danes!  It was a scream.  We finally got in with a bunch of Canadians and Spaniards.  We rode around the city and went to three night clubs and the last one served us champagne and had a floor show.  Shades of Cairo!  They had a belly dancer.  (I'm just guessing, because it would be for me, but this has got to be one of the highlights of her trip.  Not only is it a party, but it's a RAUCOUS party!!)

Night club in Rome - Story of Beauty party

        After we finally got straightened out, we did enjoy it.  (No doubt.)

 Avenue from St. Peters to Tiber River #2

Tiber River

        This morning we went to St. Peter’s for the Easter Mass.  I have never seen as many people in my life.  There were about 300,000 people.  It was jammed.  The service was outside.  Afterwards the Pope came out on his balcony and blessed us.  It was just like the newsreels.  Never thought I would some day be there.  Oh well!  Jerusalem at Christmas – Rome at Easter.  (So cool that she got pictures.  Oh, look!  It's the teeny tiny Pope! LOL)

Crowd at St. Peters

Mother at St. Peters

Pope Pius XII giving his Easter message at St. Peters

Went sightseeing this afternoon which I’ll write about later.  It’s too cold now.

April 19, 1954

Well, here we are in Sorrento, and we got the dinky hotel again – La Terrazza (Again, this hotel appears to still be there and gets decent ratings!).  We had the funniest trip down!  These Italian bus drivers don’t let a thing stop them – they just go plowing right on through.  If someone does something they don’t like they start yelling at them.  In fact everyone in Italy yells, I think.  This was a holiday and all of the Italians were out in full force.  I believe that they all congregated on the road between Rome and Sorrento.  The roads were jammed.  Every means of transportation was packed and there were loads of people walking.

Drive to hotel at Sorrento

Bay at Sorrento from hotel

Let’s see, I didn’t tell about sightseeing in Rome.

First of all we passed by one of the 4 basilicas in Rome – the largest church dedicated to the Holy Virgin.

Venice Square – at the end of an avenue built by Mussolini.  The Venice Palace is here where Mussolini had his offices.  In this building is the balcony where he made his speeches.  A tremendous monument is here too – to Victor Emmanuel II.  It is the biggest monument in the world and was started in 1885.  It was finished in 1911.  The tomb of the Italian Unknown Soldier is here too.

Venice Palace balcony where Mussolini spoke

Then we went up to Capitoline Hill which is the smallest of the seven hills of Rome but is the most important.  There were 3 pagan temples here – Jupiter, Juno and Minerva.  A citadel was here too.  Michelangelo built all of the buildings in this square.  There is a bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius here.  It is the only bronze statue left.

Capitoline Hill

From Capitoline Hill we could see the Old Roman Forum which was built in the valley of three hills – Palatine Hill where the kings’ palaces were, Esquiline Hill, and Capitoline Hill.  This was the heart of Rome.  Romulus and Remus supposedly started here.  It was built in the 8^th century BC.  One of the temples here was their Fort Knox.  Another was where the Vestal Virgins kept the fire burning constantly.

Roman Forum Palatine Hill

Temple of Vestal Virgins

When the population got too big for this one they built next Caesar’s Forum in the same pattern – temple in the center square, around the temple, and then a colonnade with shops.

Next we saw the Arch of Constantine that was built in 310 AD and is the model of all arches.

Colosseum – Nero died before it was built.  Started in 72 AD and finished in 80 AD.  Martyrs were not killed here.  It was a Flavian amphitheater and was used for gladiator fights.  Titus built it and used 30,000 slaves.

Colosseum

Mother at the Colossuem - but who is that man??

Church of St. Peter in Chains – St. Peter was put in chains twice – once in Jerusalem and once in Rome.  Some brought the two set of chains together and they miraculously merged – so built church.  Michelangelo’s Moses is here – a tremendous statue.  The house of Lucretia Borgia is in this same little square.

Passed the cemetery where Keats’ body and Shelly’s heart are buried.

Church of St. Paul Outside the Gates.  Paul was beheaded near here and his body was buried here so Constantine built the church in 340 AD.  The one we saw is a reconstruction because of fire.  This is one of the 4 basilicas in Rome that have the holy doors that are opened only during the Holy Years.  It was very dark inside because the windows are made of alabaster.  It is dominated by a tremendous mosaic of Christ and the 4 apostles.  It is the 2^nd largest church in Rome.

Inside Church of St. Paul Outside the Gates

St. Pauls Outside the Gates

Catacombs – drove down the old Appian Way which was a military road built in 300 BC.  We passed the Quo Vadis church where Christ appeared to St. Peter when Peter was leaving room so he wouldn’t be crucified.  This is where he talked to him and then returned to Rome.

Catacombs guide in Rome

There are about 40 catacombs in Rome.  They are underground cemeteries where the early Christians are buried.  We went to St. Sebastian, who was a soldier and became a martyr.  St. Paul and St. Peter were both buried here.  It is 8 miles long.  The passages are very narrow and dark.  It would be easy to get lost down there.  Saw some old bones.  About 174,000 people were buried here – 46 Popes and martyrs.  There was a church built over these in the 4^th century.

St. Sebastian

We left this morning for Sorrento.  We passed an aqueduct that was built in 300 AD.  Drove to Naples.  Stopped at Formia for a rest stop on Gaeta Bay – very pretty.

                                Aqueduct near Rome

        Ate lunch at D’angelo in Naples overlooking the bay (this restaurant is still in Naples).  All the way to Sorrento people were out celebrating.

Naples

Stopped at a cameo factory in Torre del Greco, which is famous for its cameos and coral.  Went to Pompeii.  Vesuvius has snow on it which is very unusual for this time of year.  Pompeii was covered in 79 AD.  All in ruins.  As Willie says no whiskey is sold here.  There is a room where they don’t let ladies go in – the house of prostitution.  (Rats!)

Mother at Pompeii

Vesuvius from Pompeii

Then we came on to Sorrento.  Ran into Barbara Miller here at the hotel.

Since I mentioned in my last post the fact that my mother and grandmother had the same name, it got me thinking about the whole name thing in my family.  At least on my mother’s side of the family.  Names were a really big deal.  I think that a lot of thought went into what someone was named.  Whether the person appreciated that thought – like me – was questionable, in some cases, but it meant a lot what name you received.  And sometimes there were unintentional consequences to the name you got!

My grandmother was Marion Carney Malone and she married Boyce Wilson Hunter, thereby becoming Marion Malone Hunter.  She was called “Mame” by most.  I don’t know where that came from, but I really liked it.  I think Mame is a very cool name and I also think she probably should have considered asking for that to be her grandmother name.  My grandmother had 3 daughters – Marion Malone (my mother), Amelia Ann, and Sara Caldwell Hunter.  Obviously my mother was named for her mother.  Amelia Ann was named for my grandmother’s sister, Amelia Carney Malone.  Sara got the Caldwell name from her father’s father, James Caldwell Hunter.

Amelia Ann, Sara, Marion and Marion Hunter

As I alluded to, my grandmother did not use “Mame” as her grandmother name.  She was quite a pistol, so it always amuses me that she allowed her grandchildren to come up with her grandmother names instead of telling us what it would be.  Although, I have to say, she did learn by the time the third set of grandchildren came along. J

Mocha!! - Isn't she pretty?

Sara married first and she married Julius Jennings Wade, Jr., also known as Jake.  They had 3 children – James Hunter Wade, which was her grandfather’s name; Julius Jennings Wade III, named for his father and called Jay; and Amelia Ann Wade, named for Sara’s sister and born on Amelia Ann Hunter’s birthday.  Jimmy Wade was the oldest of Marion Hunter’s grandchildren and clearly had been thumped on the head more than once as a baby since he came up with the ridiculous grandmother name “Fomoma”.  I’m pretty sure my grandmother was mortified and probably pretended not to know the Wade children in public when they hollered for her.

My mother married next, of course the great and wonderful William John Moore.  They had 4 children – me; William John Moore, Jr., named for Daddy and called John; Paul Boyce Moore, whose first name provenance is a mystery but whose middle name is from Mother’s Daddy; and George Lee Moore, who was named for our grandmother’s brother George Lee Malone.  Mother was unusually sensitive to the fact that people routinely mistook her for a man when they saw her name, which was spelled Marion.  So she still named me for her, but gave me the feminine spelling of the first name, so that I was Marian Hunter Moore.  I was the second oldest grandchild and was given the honor of picking another grandmother name for our maternal grandmother (our paternal grandmother was already named “Grandma” so I got no choice in that naming) and I chose “Mocha”.  Legend has it that I was trying to say “Mother” and it actually came out “Mow-ker”.  Someone, probably Mother, thought to spell it as “Mocha”, which meant that Mocha was really named “Chocolate”, which, even though it was odd, was pleasant because it was chocolate.  Small wonder that my favorite sweet is chocolate. J  So while Mocha may have also flinched a little at that name, how could she be unhappy being known as chocolate?  So I think she was ok with that and probably actually, if truth be known, flattered.  I’m pretty sure it was her favorite grandmother name.

Then, finally, Amelia Ann got married to Oliver F Roddey (I can’t remember what the “F” is for).  Now, Amelia Ann was called “Mee Ann”, the southernized pronunciation of Amelia Ann.  But she also has this nickname “Meechie”.  I have no idea where “Meechie” comes from, but many people call her Meechie or Meech for short.  My uncle’s nickname is “Bo”, like the President’s dog.  I have no idea where that comes from either.  Anyway, they were pretty unimaginative in naming their children and their names are Oliver Hunter Roddey, otherwise known as Hunter, and Amelia Ann Roddey, otherwise known as Ann.  My grandmother forced them to call her the pedestrian and boring grandmother name of “Grandmother”.

An interesting side note to the grandmother naming – my former mother-in-law had the normal grandmother name “Grandma” from her first two grandchildren.  When grandchild #3 came along, he called her “Bubba”.  I can’t even imagine what it was like to be out with your grandson and have him holler at you “Hey! Bubba!”  J

So family names are huge in my family.  The most desirable family name to have is “Hunter”.  Probably because it’s THE family name, but there are an unfortunately large number of family members who got it.  Some aren’t even actually in the Hunter family, but they liked it so much they stole it!  As an example, my grandmother’s sister Amelia Carney Malone married Harvey May.  Not a Hunter in sight.  But she named one of her sons Hunter.  And he named his son Hunter.  And her other son, Harvey, named one of his daughters Amelia Hunter.  And she got to be called Hunter!  That was another thing that annoyed me.  My cousin Hunter Roddey got to be called Hunter and two of my second cousins got to be called Hunter, but I did not get to be called Hunter.  I think I would have had a much happier life if I could have been called Hunter instead of Marian.  My sister-in-law even suggested that I change my name to Hunter, one night when we were enjoying dinner at an outdoor restaurant in Corsica.  I have to admit that I did think about it.  But, alas, it would have been too difficult to remember now.  Plus Hunter Hall sounds like a dorm.

Family names have been passed down to the next generation as well.  My cousin Jimmy Wade has three daughters named Malone (another family name I would have loved to have), Quinn (his wife’s maiden name), and Carney.  Jay Wade named his daughter Abby, randomly, but his son is Julius Jennings IV.  Amelia named her daughters Sara Ann and Stewart.  The Stewart is because of our Scottish heritage – the Hunters were part of the Royal Stewart clan.  My brother John’s son is William John III.  Paul’s sons are Allen (his wife’s family name) George and Boyce Wilson.  And then my cousin Ann has children named Bo and Ann.  Hunter Roddey has children named Harrison and Caroline and, quite frankly, I have no idea where those names came from!

And then we have the unintentional naming.  I’ve lost count of the number of times that people are taken aback by the fact that my brothers are John, Paul and George.  The inevitable next question is “where’s Ringo?”  My biggest beef growing up was having to be called “Little Marian” so as not to be confused with my mother.  Just one more reason why I should have been called Hunter.  First.  Before Hunter Roddey came on the scene.  I do remember asking one time why no one called my mother “Big Marion”.  That did not go over well.  I also suggested changing my name to Vicky.  That was not well received either.

When I was growing up I was not as big a fan of all the family names.  But as I’ve gotten older I’ve seen how they link a family and make us even more a part of each other.  There’s some pride in having a family name, especially when it’s a well-revered name.  And then sometimes you end up with something silly and ridiculous like “Fomoma”. J

The family (without Mother) - front:  Jake Wade, Jimmy Wade  back: Sara Hunter Wade, Boyce Hunter, Amelia Ann Hunter, Marion "Mocha" Hunter

This is a letter opener that was in the silver that my sister-in-law Beth has that belonged to my mother.  You can’t see it here, but it’s engraved with the initials “MMH”, which we assume are her initials – Marion Malone Hunter.  It occurred to me afterwards that it could also have belonged to my grandmother, also named Marion Malone Hunter, called “Mame” by her peers and family, called “Mocha” by her grandchildren.  At least the ones that matter.  J

Anyway, Beth and I imagined Mother using this letter opener to open letters from home while she was in Germany.  We haven’t come across any letters during that time period, just postcards, but I would imagine she wrote letters too.  And received letters from friends and family.

I’ve mentioned before that I like to write.  I’ve always enjoyed writing stories, although I don’t know that any of them are any good.  I’m sure that I violated many copyrights by rewriting “Dark Shadows” storylines to include a few extra characters, one of which was always me.  And I’ve rewritten other TV shows and movies to suit myself.  I have even written a whole novel, although I’ve never tried to get it published.  I did send it to a romance novel contest, which I did not win or even place, so someone other than me actually read it.  I hooked up with a critique partner a number of years ago who read the beginning of my novel and gave me feedback, both good and painful to hear.  But when I gave her some critical feedback about her own novel, I never heard from her again.  I don’t know if she did it because she was pissed at me or if she got bored with my linear storyline, but in any case, I’ve let it sit.  I don’t know if I’ll ever do anything with it.  She suggested a secondary story line, but I can’t think what it would be.  I recognize that I need one, but I’m not sure who would be the focus of that.  When I wrote it initially, I wrote a fictionalized version of my own life, with a fantasy ending of sorts.  It didn’t really end up having a happy ending, so it probably wasn’t true romance fiction, but it was a story I wanted to write.  But it was very linear and probably wouldn’t have been that interesting to others.

I started working on another story that was based in Wrightsville Beach.  I told a friend about it and he wanted to help me with the secondary plot line, so he “helped” me come up with this crazy story about a special kind of coffee and a greenstone and some corporate espionage and a plot to kill someone.  But that wasn’t really “my” story and it got so convoluted at one point that I couldn’t keep up with it.  I kept writing the romance aspect of the story, because that was really what interested me, but eventually it kind of died.  I had a lot of pieces and parts to the story, but found that I couldn’t put them all together cohesively.  And when he stopped helping with the story, it just fell apart.

So I will probably never be a best-selling novelist.  I’ll probably never retire to the beach to write on my porch.  And since Oprah went off the air, I’ll never be on The Oprah Winfrey Show as her book club’s latest read.

I remember writing letters.  Some of the first letters I remember writing, and receiving, were when I went to Girl Scout camp for two weeks.  I did that two summers in a row.  The first summer I was so homesick that I think I cried my eyes out whenever I got a letter and I probably was pleading with my parents to come rescue me in the letters I sent home.  (They didn’t.  Rescue me, that is.  They made me stay.)  The next year, I remember getting a little misty-eyed over a letter my brother John wrote to me telling me about what was going on on “Dark Shadows”, which was my favorite show.  I wasn’t homesick that year, but the letters were still nice.  I’m sure mine were more positive that year.

I really got into letter writing when we moved back South from New Jersey, after my junior high school years.  I had several friends that I wrote to, long letters about life in Georgia.  Most of those friends didn’t write back, but I kept up a long letter writing habit with my friend Irene Jacus.  It was always a big day when I got a letter from her.  They were always several pages long and full of juicy gossip and information.  I would wait to hear from her and then write her back, first commenting on all the tales she told and then adding my own.  We continued to write each other well into our adulthood.

When my best friend Debbie moved to Houston, we started writing each other.  Similarly we wrote long letters about what was going on in our lives and sharing thoughts about the soap operas we both watched.  And I always was excited to get a letter from her.  We also sent each other cards, picking out the ones that we thought reminded ourselves of each other.  Eventually the day came when we sent each other the same card at the same time.  I remember laughing when I opened it because I had just sent it to her a day or so before.  We still write, although now it’s via email instead of letters.  And I get just as excited when I see that I have an email from her.

So I’m guessing that when Mother was in Germany, she got excited too when there was a letter from home.  And especially since she wouldn’t have been able to call family and there was no email or IM or Facebook or Twitter back in those days, she’d have to wait to get the mail to see if there was something from home.  And sending letters to and from Europe probably took forever, so it would have been an even bigger deal.  And I imagine her sitting in her room with this letter opener, savoring the opening of a letter from home, hoping it was multiple pages full of gossip and information and interesting tidbits.  And then reading it over and over, imagining the letter writer telling her all of these things.  And then picking up a pen and some paper and, with the letter she had just gotten next to her, starting to respond, first with responses to what was in the letter she had just received, and then with the stories of her own adventures and travels. 

Without all the party talk, though.  J

March 10, 1954

Friday night Willie and I went to Nuremberg.  I stayed with Barbara.  When we got there the Boswell’s, friends of Willie’s, had a bottle of champagne.  Then Saturday we went shopping in the PX.  Saturday afternoon Willie and I wandered around downtown and I bought some pewter down in old Nuremberg.  We also wandered through Woolworth’s – just like home – records and everything, except that it was all in German.  We ate dinner at the hotel and then went to the dance there.

St. Lawrence Church, Nuremberg

Sunday we had dinner at Der Munsterstinger’s and then sat in the bar at the hotel and chatted.  We almost had to stay in Regensberg because of train connections.

         Last night we went down to Sara and Ken’s and Doc fixed us chop suey.  Certainly was good!

Went downtown today and made like real Germans – ate wurst and sauerkraut at a gasthaus.

March 20, 1954

One night last week, Bob Walker, Willie and I took Pat Allen down to make roll call – Mariandal and Prince Alfonse – really had a ball.

The infamous Mariandal in Straubing

         [Ok, so the infamous Mariandal, which I am assuming was some kind of place to hang out and party, reminds me of the B&L Warehouse in Athens.  Nothing special looking on the outside, but the B&L was party central when I was a freshman in college.]

Last Friday Col. Wilson had a promotion party here.  It was really some party – costs $100.  Then we went on down to the Mariandal.  There we ran into Max and Gus, our bartenders, so we went down and opened up Max’s gast haus.

Barbara came down Saturday afternoon.  We just messed around here and that night Willie and Paul took us to the “Hard Times” party.  That was some party.  Afterwards we had to take Barbara down to make roll call.

Party time at the Officers Club Bar

We messed around Sunday.  I got a cable telling me that I have a new nephew (must be Jimmy Wade).

Wednesday night there was the Shamrock Cocktail party – St. Patrick’s Day.  Afterwards we made the rounds downtown.

“Parties make the world go ‘round….!”  [And there it is.  I wonder if my party loving mother could have ever imagined that she would raise a bunch of party loving children!]

March 22, 1954

Saturday night Willie, Bob Walker and I went down to the Mariandal for supper.  Then we came back here.  The orchestra was here and very few people.

Yesterday afternoon Flo and Bob Wofford and I went to Wahalla – near Regensburg.  It is the Hall of Fame for Bavaria.  It is very pretty with busts of famous people – Bach, etc.  Right now I can’t think of any more except a big statue of Ludwig, who built it.

Walhalla in Regensberg

Last night Willie asked me to go to the movies!  Miracles will never cease!  [It's kind of fun to know that she got all giddy and stuff when Daddy asked her out.]

April 4, 1954

Last Saturday was the spring formal.  Beforehand was a battalion dinner.  I went with Willie and had a grand time.  Afterwards we went down for roll call – from Lt. to Col. And dress blues to tails.

Sunday a gang of us went bowling and that night Willie and I went to the movie.  Then Monday night we went to see the play “The Moon is Blue”.  It wasn’t so hot. 

         Afterwards I typed a court martial for Willie.  [I am assuming that this was a court martial that Daddy was going to give and not his own court martial!  Of course, I'd like to think she wouldn't have been so calm if it had been the latter - LOL.]

Tuesday Battalion left for Grafenwohr for two weeks of firing.  Monday Regiment goes out for a week on CPX.  This place is really going to be dead.  [Poor Mother.  No boyfriend.  ;-( ]

One night I gave Pat Allen a Toni.  Bob cut off what we couldn’t curl – shades of home!

Last night Maj. Pettigrew had a promotion party!  Need I say more!

The Officers Club - in the calm before the party started

April 6, 1954

Saturday afternoon took Peggy Allen to the kiddie show – Tarzan.  (Pat was sick.)

        That night about eight of us went to the dance.  A new pilot, Jim Bray, came in.  He is a friend of Phil and Joe Haller’s.  We went down to their house later.

Then Sunday afternoon a bunch of us played bridge.  Then we went to the zoo downtown.

April 12, 1954

Thursday night Pat Allen and I went down to Flo Wofford’s for pork chops, turnip greens and black eyed peas and cornbread.  Sho’ was good.

Flo Wofford and Pat Allen

Pat, Don, and Peggy Allen

Friday afternoon AB Quinn and I played my first game of golf.  Saturday afternoon we went shopping.

Mother's caddy

Saturday night Pat and I spent the night with Pat Leighton.  We sat around and chatted and played records.  Then Sunday we finally got dressed about 3:30.  We came out here and Pat Allen won the free drinks.  We had a party! [Oh my, what a shocker!]

Battalion comes in today!

Valentine's Day

It’s almost Valentine’s Day.  I have very mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day.  I haven’t celebrated it often.  And when I did, I often felt like I had to nudge and make it happen.  I’ve gotten Valentine’s Day flowers from someone I dated once, which felt odd.  It was kind of too much.  And I've had to force someone to do something for me and that didn't feel too good either.  I don’t really care that much about the flowers and candy and romantic dinner expectations that many women have for Valentine’s.  I think for me, it really revolved around the fact that there was someone that I could call a “Valentine”, that I had a relationship.  Mostly because I had so few.  And again this year, there will be no relationship on Valentine’s Day.  Now, don’t feel sad for me.  I accept my status as it is.  But because Valentine’s Day is seen as a celebration of love and relationships, it always makes me think about how that has played out in my life and then how it played out in my mother’s.

I heard a bit on the radio recently about love at first sight.  I didn’t hear the whole thing or what prompted it, but it made me think about my experiences in the world of relationships and what my mother’s may have been.

I don’t know if it was “love at first sight” for Mother regarding Daddy.  It appears that she still had other dates in the beginning, but it quickly seemed to become a more exclusive relationship, even though she neglected to give us the real scoop.  At one point she mentions wishing Daddy was around so that Louie would leave her alone!  And she traveled with him toward the end of her time there.  There was even a reference, after they returned from a trip, as to speculation that they might have gotten married.

She evidently did not share details about Daddy with her family.  And she didn’t share much with us about their courtship.

As I reflect back, I did not talk to my mother about boys or dating.  Whenever anything remotely similar came up, she always gave me very black and white absolutes, like “you don’t have sex until you’re married” and “you don’t go over to a boy’s house”, even as an adult.  And of course, she didn’t want me moving out or getting furniture before I got married.  Not really what I was looking for, so I very quickly decided she wasn't the right venue for those kinds of conversations.

Boys were always very confusing to me.  And, even at a young age, I was not the girl most boys wanted to be with.  The boys I liked, even as an adult, were always cute and popular. I mean, for crying out loud, I wanted to be cute and popular too, so why not go for the cute, popular boys?  Unfortunately, since I was not cute and popular, they kept on going.

I have no idea if Mother dated much.  My aunts said she mostly went out in large mixed groups.  She always looked, in her younger years, a little scruffy, like she didn’t wear makeup or care much about clothes and hairstyles, which also carried over into her mother years.  Those things were always very important to me, however, so the fact that she wanted me to not worry about them or resisted (or outlawed) my attempts to be more modern or up-to-date made me both stubborn and less inclined to ask for her opinion on matters of the heart.

I’ve always been kind of socially awkward, especially around boys and men.  I didn’t read signals well and my internal antenna about men seemed to be broken off.  I had my first date when I was 16 and it went so poorly that I didn’t have another one until college.  In high school, I had heard that a boy wanted to invite me to the prom one year – may or may not have been true – but I discouraged it because he didn’t meet my standards.

Standards.  Ah, having standards.  I did have an idea in my head of the perfect guy.  I wanted him to be good-looking, be athletic, be intelligent.  I was kind of shallow with respect to my standards.  But I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t want – and I didn’t want to date a guy that wasn’t cute or didn’t have a good body or who wasn’t popular.  I had a friend in college who told me that I set my standards too high.  A euphemism, I’m pretty sure, for “there’s no way in hell that you can get a guy like that, so you might as well lower your standards for the leftovers”.  But that wasn’t what I wanted.  Sometimes I did settle for the leftovers, because I wanted a date or because it was a blind date, but that was all it was.  In most cases, I would never have given a guy like that a chance.  Because I think I really wanted to prove to this friend, and to others, that I could get that cute, popular guy with the athletic build.

I wish I had known how my mother felt about boys and men.  Did she have the same insecurities?  Did she want someone she couldn’t have, or was told she couldn’t have?  Since I don’t really know anyone else she dated besides Daddy, that’s all I have to compare to.

Interestingly Daddy wouldn’t have fit my ideal either.  He was skinny and had a big nose and he looks kind of goofy in some of the pictures we have of him from back then.  He was not well-educated when Mother met him.  He had spent some time in the Navy after high school, then went to college and flunked out or nearly flunked out, and joined the Army.  Daddy was a good storyteller, so I’m guessing he was back then too.  And he liked to laugh and joke around.  So he was probably a fun date.  And he was a nice, considerate man.  He treated people respectfully and people really liked him. So he probably was like that back then too.  And Mother would have liked that.  A nice man who treated her respectfully and was fun to be with.  And maybe she was more self-aware than I was in my 20’s or maybe she just was open to possibilities.  But she found a diamond in the rough.

Mother did tell me that she told Daddy he would have to go back to school after they were married.  And he did.  And after he graduated he went to work for Southern Bell, where he remained until he died.  He was a good provider and a good husband and father.  He was someone that people always liked, because he was nice and kind and considerate and liked to talk and listen.  And he always loved my mother, no matter what.  I remember having a conversation with him – I’ve forgotten the context or why we were talking about this – but what I was left with was the fact that he loved who my mother was inside, not only the outside.  And, in fact, the outside didn’t matter.  He just accepted her for who she was.  I didn’t appreciate it then, but now I realize what a gift that was.  To be loved and accepted no matter what. 

I wonder, if I had talked to my mother more about her relationship experiences, would I have made different choices.  As a young adult, I always went for the “bad boy”.  And, I have to admit, I did date men that fit my “standards”, and they usually ended up not being worth it.  I married someone that seemed, in some respects, to be kind of like my dad.  Someone who had not gone the traditional college route right out of high school and had taken some twists and turns in life.  But it turned out he really wasn’t like my father at all.  Most importantly, he didn’t accept me for who I was.  He wanted the outside package.  And when the outside package didn’t match his expectations, he mistreated me. 

Since that marriage ended, I haven’t stepped out much into the relationship arena.  The one time I did left me feeling like I really hadn’t learned anything at all.  When it was all over, I just felt empty.  I realize now that I have never met my “soul mate”, I’ve never found the person that I could be with comfortably for the rest of my life.  In many ways that makes me sad.  I wonder if it would make my mother sad.  Because I do think she wanted me to have what she did – a husband who truly loved me and a family.

My parents didn’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day.  My father died on February 5, so on Valentine’s Day I took my mother some flowers.  And when she saw them, she cried a little.  They never needed a day to say “I love you” or “You mean everything to me”, because they lived it every day.  And, I have to say, I’m a little envious, not only on Valentine’s Day, but every day.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Willie and Marion Moore.