All the Men I’ve Loved and Some Not So Much
My Dad:
We never had that “Daddy’s Girl” type of relationship. There are no pictures of me on his lap. He didn’t see me that way, and after a while neither did I. Because of Mom’s ever-present anger toward him, I became more of his partner rather than his daughter. Oh, he did some “Dad” things. We went to the Father-Daughter bowling night, where his highest score was fifty; he attended Parent-teacher conferences; drove the car pool for high school. I was the one who made his dinner and greeted him at the door each night after work. But he didn’t walk me down the aisle either time. But I’ll never forget the strangest thing he said to me when, at eighteen and not married, I told him I was pregnant:
“You know, there are other ways to satisfy a man.”
Later, when he suffered from dementia, I was no longer his partner. I became his caregiver.
My brother Nick:
We were very close. We told each other everything that was happening in our lives. He supported me during my most stressful times.
He would get mad at how my boyfriend, who later became my first husband, was treating me. There were physical fights. Unfortunately, there was the time I tried to get between them and ended up with a bloody lip.
And when I was pregnant at eighteen:
“Mom, you're being so mean to Pat. Can’t you see how stressed she is because you are refusing to go to her wedding? It will be your fault if she loses the baby.”
“It’s the best decision you have ever made. You belong in college. You’ll work out having four kids and going to school. It’s where you belong, where you should have been a long time ago. It’s never too late.”
Nick was always the one who wanted to “fix” women. He was always finding women he could swoop into their lives and “save” them.
“Pat, I met a woman. I really like her. She might be ‘the one’.”
“OK. What’s she like?”
“She’s been married before. But the guy was abusive. He really did a number on her emotionally. She’s depressed and her self-esteem is in the toilet.”
Nick, not satisfied with just being a supportive friend, married a couple of these women.
When he could not raise them up and make them stronger, he’d become frustrated and soon there would be a divorce. We’d mourn the loss together.
“Well, you tried, but some people are beyond being helped.
The best part of our relationship was how we often laughed together.
At a family gathering Nick would call me aside with an imitation of one of the relatives who was present:
“If Dad pulls his belt up any higher, he’s going to choke” said as he pulled his own belt up to just below his chest.
In a high-pitched voice, he’d imitate Mom at dinner time: “Did you try the beef? Have some and take some pork too. How about some mashed potatoes? I made the chicken just the way you like it. Have some. Don’t forget the corn. Have you had seconds? I should have made more.”
So many of these memories flooded by brain when, years later, I held his hand as he passed.
My Brother, Mike
Mike, five years younger than me, has always been pretty much a loner. He could go off by himself for hours. He loved to build things. Well, not exactly “build”, more like reconstruct things. Dad never knew what his lawnmower would be when he came home: a miniature electric car? It wasn’t a riding mower until Mike got a hold of it.
Mike does not like change. He’s in his sixties and married to the girl he met at fourteen. He was very upset when I got divorced.
He also does not like to be different or to stand out. He was the only one in the family with a beautiful head of red hair. This bothered him so much that he would hide under a bed and cut chunks of it off.
There is one memory of our relationship that I cherish. He was taking wrestling in high school. Nick said he was too busy to help him with the different holds and take downs. So, I was the one on the floor with him.
A couple of months later, I was leaving to go to the hospital. I was having a miscarriage. Dad told Mike I was having stomach pain. Mike came up to me with tears in his eyes and asked, “Did I hurt you when we wrestled?”
Husband # one:
He had moved in next door when we were both entering our senior year in High School. By the time we turned nineteen we were so, so, so, in love. It was probably more in “lust” being driven by raging teenage hormones. It was also driven by the need to leave our dysfunctional families. Much to his family’s distress, but with my parent’s acceptance, we were engaged before his first year in college.
I got pregnant and the wedding was moved up.
I wore a beige lace dress, and he wore the ill-fitting suit he’d worn to prom.
Just as we finished saying “I do”, there was a small earthquake. There had never been an earthquake reported in Illinois before that time. We laughed about it. But maybe it was an omen. Lust doesn’t last, and ten years and four children later, we divorced.
The in-between men
I’ll admit, this was the craziest time in my life. I had only dated one guy for a short time before I met husband # one. I guess I thought I should make up for lost time. Some of these guys were really wacko. The one who was missing a front tooth, brought the giant bottle of cheap chianti the first night, wanted to marry me, but put my kids in foster care. The one who thought we should become “swingers”. Said it was simple-just take nude pictures and send them to a magazine.
There was one very special guy, eighteen years older than me. He treated me like a queen and loved my kids. He had too much family baggage for us to marry.
Husband # 2
I finally moved away from my parents and siblings. The freedom I felt gave way to my wanting to go to college. It became the best part of my life. There was this one guy I had in a couple of classes. He was about my age and very bright. One day I asked him if he wanted to go for coffee. We found that we had grown up just miles from each other in the Chicago suburbs, even having gone to the same community college. Our coffee time led to his driving me to school. I had helped him out with a class project, and to thank me, he took me out to dinner. As we settled in the car after dinner, he reached over and kissed me. Our relationship had changed.
The next step was introducing him to my kids.
Less than a year after we began dating, he asked me to marry him. Why not? My kids liked him. He had all his teeth, didn’t drink chianti, and I knew he would never be one to suggest swinging. Of course, I loved him and said yes, forty-two years ago.
And my tears fell as I watched him walk all four of my daughters down the aisle and dance the father’s dance at their weddings.
New men in my life:
There are seven new men in my life now. They are my grandsons:
Graham, the eldest: When I realized just what unconditional love is all about. Hours of walks together watching him learn about the world around him. He would say there were fags fapping in the wind; we’d take sips of our drinks at the same time and proclaim they were “refretching”
We spent hours playing with Thomas trains, Legos and going to the bookstore and toy stores. We never left the store with less than four books or four trains.
Henry, now 19. We always thought Henry should be the host in a restaurant. When he was about two, each time we entered his house he’d ask “Do you want some coffee? How about decaf?” Today he’s a very talented drummer.
Max, also 19. I took care of him for a while when my daughter went back to work. We took many walks around Evanston, IL. But it never failed that he’d begin to cry as soon as we walked into Whole foods. Now, because of having Crohn’s disease, he only shops there. In spite of the disease, he has become a talented classical pianist.
Ed and Lou, 17 and twins. When Ed visited when he was a toddler, he’d take me aside to tell me secrets and I’d have to promise not to tell his parents. And even today he gives the best hugs. After my mom died, he would write notes to her and ask his mom to keep them under her pillow until she came back.
Lou and I have this game. I must chase him to get a hug. But it’s always worth it when I catch him. I have one memory of a time with Lou that always makes me grin. We were sitting on the sofa. He grabbed my very fleshy arm and said “You’re very mushy. Grandma Barbara is mushy, too, but not as much as you.”
Charlie, almost 17. He has the coolest red hair as does his younger sister. The “big red” and “little red”. He was my seventh grandchild and I also named him “Lucky”.
He’s a very talented musician: the clarinet, oboe and others. He, like all his cousins, is enrolled in only accelerated classes.
Harrison, age 16. He is the all-around sports guy: basketball, tennis, and la crosse, all of which he excels. He’s the quiet one. But we still tease him today about the time he was getting potty trained and decided to go poop in the bushes at my house.
I could write pages and pages of how important they are in my life, the joy they bring me, and the memories we create each time we’re together. Don’t tell anyone, but they’re my favorite men.
