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Word
Gems
Personal Statement #9
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November 21, 2008
It is February, 2003. It is snowing, and I am driving into Toronto, making my way across the top of this city on the 401 expressway. The traffic has grown worse in recent years, now with near-perpetual "rush hour" dynamics. I am here at Anita's request, to visit her mother, Mom Wickham, in a nursing home. Mom has always been good to me.
Part of me is a Torontonian now, having lived here for six years. There once were local jokes about this city being everyone's second-choice place to live; that we might like to live in this or that exotic place, but that Toronto, overall, was a pretty good place. It used to be. But this was years ago, as uncontrolled immigration policies have now transformed this former well-ordered city, "the city that works," into something that begins to remind one of a third-world country. Much of it is now dirty and dishevelled, nothing of the jewel of former days. I finally understood, only recently, that such destruction of local English culture was maliciously designed by the French politician Pierre Trudeau and his gang, their efforts to dilute the impact of the English majority in Canada. (Does this offer a clue to anyone regarding what is happening to the USA today?)
I cannot drive into Toronto without many memories flooding back to me. I worked so hard here, as a young stockbroker, in the glass Concilium Towers. And I did very well; but that is another story. After meeting with Mom, I visit an old friend of the family, an 80-something widow who is expecting me. Della and I have a rapport, and we enjoy talking together. Her one-room apartment is filled with the mementos of her life. I notice on her coffee table an odd combination of religious materials and cheap romantic novels.
(1942) Della, on her wedding day.
I have brought her copies of some of the pages of my Word Gems. She is fascinated by this, and we begin to speak of her life and the subject of romantic love. And she begins to tell me things that she has never told anyone; indeed, until recently, not even herself, as she has realized some things, things long buried in her heart, and hidden from her own view. She had been a simple farm girl, quite unsophisticated - you can see that openness in her wedding photo. During the war years, she worked as a waitress at the downtown-Toronto Granite Club, a frequent haunt of peripatetic military officers. Della laughs now as she remembers a certain incident. An officer asks her if she will be his consort; that he will supply an apartment for her, all living expenses, nice clothes and jewelry, if only he might enjoy her, like a snack at the Granite Club, whenever his appetite gnaws at him. Such a small request, such a common and polite request, like asking when lunch will be served - actually, it's the same question. She finds all of this very humorous now as she senses her young-girl reaction to this salacious offer of long ago. She says that she was so naive in the ways of the world that she couldn't quite understand what he was saying - surely it's not that! So he had to rephrase his punchline three times before she got! She laughs as she remembers turning down his generous offer. I am now studying Della's wedding photos; and I mention to her some things that I see, clues about her character, and about how she was feeling that day. She says that nobody has ever noticed those things before. Della explains that she met Jack (not his real name), her future husband, at the Granite Club. And again she laughs heartily as she recounts the comedy of errors of their coming together. The cook at the club was a terrible practical joker. One day, he sidled up to Della and, with mock confidentiality, whispers in her ear, "You see Jack sitting over there? Well, he told me that he likes you, but he's too scared to talk to you! You should just go over there and talk to him!" What Della didn't know was that this rogue had played the same trick on Jack, had said that Della was dying to meet him! So, Jack, thinking that something was happening here, approaches Della; and Della, thinking that Jack is already enamored, decides to work with this, given the "history" of affection in play. And they marry! and the cook is now invited to the wedding! And all think that this is just the grandest joke! Della and I take a break at this point. It is 7 PM now, and we see, from her high-rise apartment window, a respectable snow storm howling out there. I ask her if she'd like to walk across the street to get some fish-and-chips. She laughs at this and says that it's been a very long time since she's had a date. She enjoys herself enormously in this little outing and will remind me of it for some years to come. She continues talking, all the while, even upon our return to her apartment. And now, her mood changes, as she becomes quite pensive.
This unsophisticated farm girl, with a good nature, explains that her young self had not possessed any sense of what love might mean; and had married the first good man who spoke to her! Why? I asked. She believed that she needed the support of a good man for her life.
And the lights start to come on for her. She understands why she did certain things so long ago; and why he did certain things! It is getting quite late now. I am very tired after a day of travelling and visiting. I decide to sleep on the floor of the one-room flat. Della is lying in her bed, but still chatting in the dark.
Now picture this strange situation. He is going off to war. There is a good chance that he will not return, that they will never see each other again. But, instead of long and lingering, passionate and teary, last good-byes and kisses, their parting is as moving as that of leaving one's office chums at the end of a business day. Della now sees herself in 1942. She is on a balcony. Jack is below, in full GI garb, with large duffel bag. And he is walking down the drive; and they wave at each other! a mere wave! They act as if he's to be gone for only 10 minutes, going around the corner to buy a jug of milk!
Della says that it never really entered her mind to go downstairs to kiss him one last time... nor did he ask her to! Della offers her sense of things, that she was almost certain that Jack had had sexual liaisons while stationed in Italy. She knew this, a woman's intuition, because of things he hinted at, and because of things he wouldn't say; yet, she judges such events dispassionately, as if speaking of someone else's husband... it had no impact on her heart. Though these two possessed a church-sanctioned wedding document, it is evident that there had never been a marriage of spirits.
Philosopher Mortimer Adler, one of the great thinkers of the 20th century, a most significant teacher in my life, stated that marriages in our world can be categorized in these three ways:
(1) association based on utility: business relationships; marriages of convenience; (2) association based on pleasure: mere sexuality; (3) association based on excellence: mature relationships
of friendship and romantic love.
It is clear that the army officer who wanted to sequester Della in a private apartment is an example of #2 - raw animal sexual desire. And, Della came to see, 60 years after the fact, that her marriage to Jack was nothing more than #1, an association based on utility, mutual convenience. They each needed something from the other, support and comfort in a hostile world. Most marriages are of this sort. And here we must also include those immature ones who marry, believing that they are high-minded, but merely lack the maturity and life-experience to really see what they are doing; and the true reasons for their actions. Marriages based on #3, relationships of excellence, mature relationships, based on deep soul-union, are very rare. I do not need to make a case for this assertion. Few would disagree.
When couples pass to the Next World, many of these marriages of utility can carry on for some time; but only for those of an unenlightened state of mind. People, essentially, are free to do as they wish on the Other Side; and if they, for their own immature reasons, want to continue on in an unsatisfying relationship, no one will come to one's door and demand otherwise.
But for those with open hearts, those who are growing and who have begun to see the true nature of things, regarding who they are, and who others might be to them, have the opportunity to enter into a most mystical and passionate relationship with another of like mind and like heart. There are marriages on this higher level Over There; but not marriage as we experience here; something I will discuss more in a future writing. such advanced relationships have nothing to do with common convenience and mere utility.
The vast majority of marriages of this world will quickly evaporate. Mere church-sanctioned unions, which can seem so permanent in our world, will not survive our passing to our Real Home. And when Della arrives in that world - a real world, one with hard edges, and solid walls, and sandy resort beaches, and concerts, and laughing children, and homes filled with artwork - she will have the opportunity to find someone who shares her own passion, one who matches her own fervent soul-energy; and Jack, if he is of a mature enough mind to desire such, will enjoy the same benefit. I am reminded right now of something that President Kennedy once said. He was talking about problem solving, how many Americans might think that we can solve all problems if we just spend enough money, and hire enough consultants; but, he concluded, many things of this life are like a game designed without any chance of winning. And there are many conundrums in this life that will defy all efforts to tame them; and no amount of money, research, or combined effort will solve the problem; because in a 3-D world there is no solution to some problems. Finding that class #3 perfect marriage relationship, in our world, is probably not going to happen. And it seems that the Universe has decreed it to be so, for our edification, in this world of suffering; this classroom-world of learning many lessons before we take up residence in our true home on the other side. Della is nearly 90 now. I just spoke with her on the phone a few nights ago. Her mind wanders at times, and she forgets what she's said. She has been in the hospital three times recently, and is not feeling well. She never feels well anymore. And she doesn't much want to be here. I encourage her to know that another world is soon coming for her, and she will feel good again. She understands this... and her tone lifts now, at this reminder.
January 1, 2009 I had been thinking of Della today and decide that I should give her a call to see how she's doing. Della sounds in better spirits than two months ago. She tells me that she continues to read her romantic novels; continues to think about life and love. She marvels at how the world has changed since she was young; how girls today are so much more sophisticated. She has recently seen the movie David Copperfield and thinks out loud about how even children can sometimes form a permanent bond of romantic love.
She wants to tell me more about Jack. While stationed in Europe during World War II, he wrote to Della about his daily life: the pressures, the constant dangers, the mud and wet clothes, the loneliness. He tells her that near the battlefield there is a farmhouse. He offers the farm family some Army rations. Della says he could have been court marshalled for this. There is a girl in the farmhouse. She washes Jack's clothes for him; bakes him a pie. Jack actually tells Della that he has fallen in love with this girl! Della knows that they have had physical relations. Della explains all of this dispassionately. She says she has forgiven Jack; that she knows that he was under tremendous stress, severe loneliness. Jack comes home after the War. Della states quite frankly that she almost wishes that he had stayed over there. Jack is not the same, would never be the same again. They had never been close, but now there is an additional layer of separation... he still loves that girl over there!
Traditional French stone house-barn unit.
(1973) Denise Troicherie, French farmgirl
I ask this 90 year-old... if you could give some advice to younger people about love, what would it be? She thinks about this for a moment. Della says that in her 90 years she has known only two couples, as she perceived it, who were truly in love! ... only two! She now tells me a story about one of these couples, a most unusual account! Again, the scene is World War II; again, a husband is far from home; again, he is tormented with the threat of death on every side; again, he, in his loneliness, loves a girl. This girl becomes pregnant, has a baby. The fellow is killed in battle. After the War, the European girl contacts this man's widow in Canada! The Canadian woman sponsors these two to come to Canada, and they live nearby each other, help each other! And I say to Della... Are you telling me that this widow so loved her husband that she wanted to bring his baby - the baby of another woman - to Canada? in order to have at least something of him in her life? Della says... yes, that's it! Amazing!
Della goes on to say that she has learned that true love, if it does not exist, cannot be manufactured... and very few are lucky enough to find it in this life.
And I am thinking about all this... this is her answer to my question regarding advice to others about love. Her answer is not a simple statement. It's more of a warning, a sobering reminder, that love in this world is often a messy, unsatisfying, and dangerous business; often with few winners, often a game of simply minimizing losses; and, in the end, learning to do the honorable thing. These are not Hollywood answers, not the kind of answers from a Sunday sermon on marriage, not the answers starry-eyed young couples might hope for. It's just the kind of world we live in right now; but, the good news is a better world - a world of true love - is coming. We have been on the phone for over an hour. This good-hearted soul reminds me once again, as she often does, how much she enjoyed having those fish-and-chips with me. She says something nice, that she feels a bond with me, ever since that late-night talk six years ago. I tell her that I will try to make a trip to Toronto this year, and we will share a meal again.
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