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.

Postcard from Lisboa (Lisbon)

To Mocha, Granddaddy, and Amelia Ann:  Lisbon is a beautiful city.  The sun has been out, and all of the buildings are different colors.  We have thoroughly enjoyed.  Here the people look and act like people, and they treat us like people.  We celebrated New Year's Eve with some of their excellent wine.  Tomorrow we go to Madrid and the next day Stuttgart.  It's been grand.  Marion

And this begs the question - if they weren't treated like people before, just what were they treated like?  Aliens?  Animals?  Plants?  Inquiring minds want to know!

Back on the ranch in Straubing

February 2, 1954

Well, we’re back.  No snow, but it’s mighty cold – somewhere between 0° and 5°.  The hairs in your nose even freeze.

Saturday night we went to the Casa Carioca – 75 cents cover charge.  It’s run by the army too.  It’s a very nice night club.  We had dinner and then watched the ice show – “Hello Again”.  Parts from different venues.  ‘Twas very good.

Sunday afternoon we went on an army tour to Oberammergau where we saw the Passion Play theater – open air.  The play is produced every 10 years since 1633.  The entire cast is taken from the village – no outsiders.  One performance lasts 7 hours with 2 hours for lunch.  The play is about Holy Week – Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday.  All natural – no makeup, mikes, etc.  Saw some of the many costumes too.

Oberammergau

Then went to Linderhof – one of Ludwig’s castles.  Smallest but only one completed.  Very ornate inside.

Linderhof Castle mirror room

Ettal Monastery – built in 1330 by Ludwig.  Brewery is behind it.  The original burned in 1770’s and has been rebuilt on original foundations.

 

Ettal Monastery near Linderhof

February 8, 1954

Well it’s snowing again, and it’s really snowing.

Last Friday Louie Ande and I went to see Moulin Rouge.  I was kind of disappointed.  Then later Willie and I went down to a Fasching party the policemen had.  It was really something.  [Wow, what a wild woman!  Sounds like she had two dates in one night!  That hussy.  ;-) ]

Saturday night I went with Willie to the 1^st battalion dinner party and then to the dance.  They really were grand.  Afterwards a gang of us went downtown.  We rode with Doc Triete.  That was one of the wildest rides I have ever had.  It took us forever to get there and back.  When we came back through the gate Doc told the guard to check AGO cards because he knew I didn’t have mine.  Thank goodness the window wouldn’t work or I’d probably still be in the guard house.

Yesterday I went to June and Tug Tuggle’s for dinner.  They had asked Louie too.  It sho’ was a mighty fine dinner.  We stayed through supper too.  I certainly did enjoy it!  [Sounds like around this time, Mother was juggling Louie and Daddy.  I guess it never hurts to feel like you're a hot commodity!]

February 20, 1954

One night last week I went down to Sara and Ken’s for dinner and spent the night.  Thursday night Lock and Tami Ireland asked several of us over for dinner.  ‘Twas mighty good.

Last Friday a bunch of us went to see From Here to Eternity.  It was a good movie, not like the book.

Saturday night was the Valentine Day dance.  I went with Willie and had a grand time.  [Yay!  Her Valentine's date was with Daddy.]

Sunday we just messed around and looked at my slides.  [This reminds me of a trip I took with my friend Shellay and a friend of hers to Daytona Beach.  Shellay had a Polaroid camera that had those pictures that came out of the camera and gradually developed into your picture.  She took tons of pictures during that trip and it never failed that at night when we got back to the room or during the afternoon when we were laying out at the pool that we would pull out "the pictures" and relive our trip to date.  Good times!]

Wednesday Ray Roth’s wife, Janice, came in.  We had a party at the Ireland’s for her.

Then Thursday night Doc and I went down to Sara and Ken’s.  He cooked steaks for us and string beans and salad.  It was wonderful.  Friday night Icke 6’s wife, Ruth LaFond, came in.  Went with Willie to their house to a party for her.  Byron Whitesides’ wife is supposed to come in tomorrow.  If these battalion wives don’t quit coming in!  [Sounds like every time a wife came in town, there was a party.  I don't think Mother really minded though.  ;-)]

             This afternoon we played bridge.  Then tonight there was an informal dance.  Willie Moore, Rick Tuite, Bob Walker and I went.  Had a fine time.

This is really a grand place with a wonderful bunch of people.

By the way.  Heard that General Cramer died today.  He was just down here this week on an inspection.  That’s really something.

February 23, 1954

Yesterday Sarah Doughtery, Tami Ireland and I went to Munchen with Doc Treite.  Saw the figures come out on the Rathaus.  Then we went to the Ratskeller for lunch.

Rathaus in Munchen

Another view of the Rathaus

             After lunch we rode around.  Also walked around and went window shopping.  Saw the Angel of Mercy statue, Koenigsplatz, etc.  Went to the Haus Der Kunst (art museum).  Then we had dinner at an Italian restaurant – Eremitage.  Was wonderful.

Angel of Mercy statue in Munchen

It was a very nice day!  Sunday Willie and I went to a party at the La Fond’s for Byron Whitesides and his wife Wilma.  Afterwards a gang of us went to the Sonnerhof for dinner.  Then we went on down to the Mariandal.  Had a very good time.

February 27, 1954

Last night Doc, Willie, and I went down to the Wittlesbach for dinner.  I saw something I had never seen before – heaters in beer.

March 4, 1954

Last Saturday was the Fasching party here at the club.  I went with Willie and had a grand time.  Tami Ireland, Alice Liley, Pat Allen and I went as Lock Ireland’s harem.  Don Allen was the slave boy.  We had a wonderful time and caused quite a bit of comment.  [No doubt!]

Sunday several of the boys in the BOQ had an open house.  It lasted all afternoon and was a fine party.

Last night a bunch of us went down to the Mariandal and the Prince Alfonse.  We ended up making roll call.

Tonight Willie, Doc, Bob Walker and I went down to Flo and Bob Wofford’s for dinner.  Pat Allen had made spaghetti and it was grand.

This morning there was a USAREUR alert and the buses didn’t get to the school until 10:30.  This afternoon we met with Col. Blasé and he told us what to do in case they ever do pull the chain.  I am to be on one of the first vehicles out and am supposed to help the driver – classified info.  [Not anymore!  LOL]

Women's Work

As you know, my mother was a teacher when she went to Germany for this big adventure.  In fact, you could say that my mother had 3 "careers", back in the days before changing careers was popular.  Her first career was teaching.  She taught mostly first grade, although I think she taught second grade one year.  But first grade was her favorite.  She never intended to work after she got married.  She did tell me that she asked Daddy if he wanted her to work and that he said no.  I feel very confident that she wanted to run off by herself and jump up and down like a child with glee!

Her second "career" was as a wife and mother.  I know she didn't enjoy the housewife aspect of this job, but all she really ever wanted to be was a wife and mother and she did only that for a very long time.

Her third career was working in the cafeteria at Stone Mountain High School with her best friend and neighbor Dolly Snyder.  She started as one of the ladies that collected the money and worked her way up to being Mrs. Snyder's assistant.  I don't know that we needed the money, but as my brothers and I got older I think it gave her something to do with her day.  And after Daddy died, I think it became a bit of a lifeline for her.  A place to go and something to do that kept her from sitting home grieving.

I always wanted to be somebody.  I spent my life wanting to “be” somebody.  Somebody that made money, somebody that was important.  I remember wanting to be a doctor, a lawyer, a dentist.  I think part of it was that I always saw myself escaping where I was in life.

I can remember when I was a little girl and I would lay in bed thinking maybe I would wake up the next morning and be someone else, be someplace else.  And when I would wake up in the morning I would lay there with my eyes still closed thinking today would be the day when I would wake up in a different house, with different parents, as an only child, in a mansion, with everything my heart desired.  But when I opened my eyes I was still in the same room I’d gone to sleep in the night before, in the same house I had lived in for years, with the same family that disappointed some very deep place in my soul.

What I had was never enough.  There was always such a yearning inside me for more, even as a young child.  I used to write when I was young.  It was never good stuff.  It was always some take off on some TV show I liked or some other story that enchanted me.  I always put myself in it, never as myself, but as who I wanted to be.  Someone pretty, well-loved, smart, funny, accomplished.  I was always the romantic female lead even when I was too young and inexperienced to know what that meant.  The handsomest man was always in love with me.  I was the center of the story.  Always.

So when my mother would talk to me about what I was going to be when I grew up, I was always disappointed in the direction those conversations took.  She wanted me to be a teacher, like her.  The appeal, for her, was that “the children always love you” and “you have the same schedule as the children”, meaning summers off and the same holidays they got.  But I didn’t really want to be a teacher.  I didn’t want to be my mother, was really what that was about.  But even back then, long before “women’s lib”, I knew that I didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a “woman’s job”.  I wanted to be able to do anything.  And back in those days I thought I could.

When I wanted to be a doctor or dentist, my mother tried to talk me into being a nurse.  Another of those women’s jobs.  The funny thing was that I was always squeamish about blood; not really conducive to being a nurse or a doctor.  When she saw me writing, she even suggested being a journalist.  Another career path I dismissed as not paying enough or having the right level of prestige.

Really and truly, I think my mother was hoping I’d pick some job or career that would give me something to do until I got married and started a family.  Because that was what she really wanted for me.  She didn’t believe that women who were married and had children should work; they should stay at home.  We had many a bitter argument over that.  I couldn’t see myself being a stay at home wife and mother.  I knew I needed more than that in my life.  In her mind, anything I did with my life after college was just “until you get married”.  She didn’t think I needed to move out of the house until I got married.  I didn’t need to buy furniture until I got married.  I asked her once “what if I don’t get married?”  She thought that was just silly talk.  I wasn’t so sure, in those days.  But that’s what she had done.  She lived at home, except for the year she was in Germany, until she got married.  She didn’t buy furniture until she got married.  Everything was just a place holder until she got married.  That truly was her goal in life, whereas mine was to be successful in my career, to have as much fun as was legal, and to party all the time.

When I went off to college I still wanted to be a doctor.  But when I heard about the course work during orientation – lots of science and math – I knew that wasn’t for me.  So I changed majors to business, mainly because I believed that was a major that would lead to an actual job.  And then struggled with just what my actual direction would be.  At first it was accounting, then marketing, and finally management.  I think my mother was still hoping I’d come to my senses and choose some marriage and child friendly job, but in those days I wasn’t thinking as much about getting married or having children.  I always appreciated that my father told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  Period.  My mother seemed to always want to add “as long as it’s teaching or nursing”.

I actually allowed my father to pick what I would major in.  When I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do, he was the one that suggested Human Resources.  Actually it was “Personnel” back then.  But that was what he had majored in and he thought I would like it.  So that was what I did.  And I was fortunate to be able to get into “Personnel” within 6 months of graduating from college.  I had gone to work in a management training program at a retailer and, since I wasn’t well suited for merchandising, I was fortunate that there was a store Personnel Manager position open for me.  Now, to be fair, there are aspects of HR that I like and that I do pretty well.  But I really don’t like dealing with the people.  I really don’t like dealing with the people issues.  I’d rather create a compensation plan or design a benefits strategy.  And now I feel kind of stuck in a career and in a role that isn’t where I really should be.

I always thought of my mother as not being very ambitious.  She never really aspired to much.  She was content being a first grade teacher, which I thought was horribly boring.  And she loved being a wife and mother.  I think what it really boiled down to was that I didn’t want to grow up to be my mother.  So I rejected out of hand all the things she held dear.

When I look back on this from my current perspective, I feel like I shortchanged myself.  I still wouldn’t have wanted to be a teacher or a nurse, but I do feel like I went down a career path that, while I could do it well, wasn’t really where my path should have led me at all.  And because I didn’t choose well when it came to relationships, I didn’t end up as a wife either, at least not long term.  And I never became a mother.

To have ended up more like my mother actually wouldn’t have been as bad as I had once imagined.  My mother had a job for a number of years that she loved.  She got to combine it with the adventure of a lifetime when she went to Germany for a year.  And she met and married the love of her life and had an incredibly happy marriage and raised four children.  Which was really all she wanted to do. 

For many years I thought that was the biggest waste of a life.  But here I am, not really fulfilled, not married, no children, not pursuing my passion.  And not totally sure what that passion is.  But I do know for sure that what my mother had and the life she lived was worth pursuing.  She had a great life.  She was loved, as a wife, as a mother, as a daughter and sister, and as a friend.  She cared about other people and she was kind and giving.  She lived the life she always imagined for herself.  She and my father weren’t rich, but they were comfortable.  And it was enough for her.  She didn’t aspire for more than she had, because she had the things that really mattered.

I wonder what would have happened if I’d set my sights just a little lower.  If I hadn’t cared so much about material things and money.  What if I had pursued that love of writing years ago?  I still don’t think I would have wanted to be a journalist, but maybe I would have tried a writing career back when I was young enough to have been really successful at it.  I think that would have made me happy.  And fulfilled.  And then maybe I would have had the life my mother did – filled with love and acceptance.  I was wrong not to have listened more to her.  I was wrong to have thought that she was the antithesis of me.  Although we were different women in many ways, deep down I really wanted what she had – I wish that I had been open enough to have learned from her.