Fifty years ago today, my mom and dad ran off and got married.
They were both just short of 21 when they got married. A couple of years later, my sister was born and then came me. Mom wanted more kids but the doctors ruled that out.
Neither went to college. Dad in particular should have. He's a good leader, has business sense, and can do a crazy amount of math in his head. But in 1962, he could make decent money without a degree so he got a factory job and joined the union. (All the men in my family from Dad's generation were union members.) They were on strike when I was born. In 1976, he became president of the local. Unfortunately, he spent his time trying to salvage what belonged to the workers, like their pension funds, as the company went downhill. It closed a few years later. From there, he moved into management positions, which says a lot about his abilities given that he didn't have a college degree.
Mom always worked, too, and retired just last year. I love both my parents very much, but Mom is special. She loves intensely and makes your world better by being in it. She's funny, smart, and incredibly strong, and she makes the best Christmas cookies on all of planet Earth. But Mom's no pushover. She once got side-swiped in one of those double left-turn lanes. The other driver sped off and Mom chased him down. When the guy finally pulled into a gas station, Mom walked over and said, "You hit my car and tried to get away. Now sit there while I call the police." And sit there he did.
Both of my parents are conservative; they always have been. Dad brought sexism into our home with his "king of the castle" issues and he wasn't always as nice to Mom as he should have been. Society's other social diseases, however, weren't a part of our world. The language of prejudice just wasn't spoken in our home. As a little girl, I knew of racial epithets, but I didn't learn them from my parents.
Even though there were bad times, my parents made us a happy family. If they were ever to divorce, it would have been after my sister and I were raised and out of the house. Mom thought about it. Then tragedy struck us. In August 1990, my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. At the same time, I was in the Reserves, which were being deployed in response to Iraq's invasion of Kuwait. I don't know where my parents got the strength to deal with cancer in one daughter while the other faced possible deployment to a war zone.
We lost my sister a year later. Her death shook us all to the core. My own marriage fell apart, but Mom and Dad found whatever strength and comfort they could muster, despite their profound sorrow, in each other. Feelings like joy and optimism started to return to them when my daughter was born in 1992.
Looking back, I can see the myriad influences these two people had on what I've become. They set an example for us of hard work and honest dealing. They raised us to create for ourselves the lives that we wanted and never gave us a reason to doubt that we could have it. Both of them, but especially Dad, taught us to be prepared for whatever life throws at you. Both of them, but especially Mom, taught us the value of kindness for its own sake and in giving others the benefit of the doubt.
Mom and Dad are genuinely happy with each other now. They love each other and enjoy spending time together. They are living now as they should, as all of us hope to.
Congratulations, Mom and Dad.
(P.S. If you got this far, thanks for reading. I know this diary is outside the scope of the DKos purpose. The happy just seemed worth sharing.)