Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Forty seven years ago today ... taken at our wedding reception. Every time I look at this photo I marvel at how young we were. I also snicker a bit at the arrangement of my feet and the super innocent expression on my face as I grasp my illicit glass of champagne. (My father had just pointed out to me that I was the only person under legal drinking age at the party.) I was twenty: I would turn twenty-one in two months' time. And I lived in a society very different from this one.

In 1963 divorce in Canada was only possible by an Act of Parliament, abortion was illegal and the sole reliable female contraceptive (the diaphragm) was only supplied to married women. The pill was just being invented; the majority of women who trained for a career became nurses, teachers or secretaries and only expected to 'work' until marriage or, at the upper limit, until the first child was expected. Women wore trousers only for leisure; teachers, nurses and secretaries arrived for work dressed in skirts, nylon stockings with seams and dress shoes. We all wore girdles with suspenders to hold up the hose. We were sitting (in some discomfort) at the start of the roller coaster ride into the very different culture prevalent by the end of the decade.

I had been raised by old-fashioned parents pretty much to pre WWII standards - Kipling style standards. I promised to marry 'forsaking all others, as long as [you] both shall live'. That is pretty much what I have done. And so what I am describing here is the life choice I perceived, not that of the boomer generation and beyond whose partnering options are greater and different. When I was a teenager I also speculated about studying law and was deterred from doing that by my father, a lawyer, who told me that the women lawyers he knew were frustrated and miserable. That was his experience and that informed my choice.

There have been a number of times in my life when I have regretted marrying. Not marrying the man I have - I can't imaging being married to anyone else - but marrying at all. The grass growing in the yards of the self managed living quarters of single women with their own incomes and lifestyle and furniture choices has looked very green and lush at such times. If you marry, as most of us do, someone with interests and decision making processes far different from your own, the necessary compromises and choices of life as a couple make you into a person far different from what you ever expected you would become, in your heady and heedless youth. When I decided that I wanted to be married, I clearly remember thinking that I would have to make such compromises and promising myself that I would do so. It has sometimes been harder that I ever could have imagined. I have, from time to time, failed that promise, have been too stubborn or too spineless. I have also, from time to time, been astonished at the generosity of the man I married in accepting my interests and accommodating me against what his choice would have been. But still - marriage can be a very Procrustean bed.

I am sure that my grass might look long and luscious to a single woman from time to time. A strong marriage, and mine is one, gives a woman a husband who earns money, does not stray, is a good father and grandfather, a partner, a companion. While a single woman chooses her own bed, she does lie in it alone, must be solely responsible for supporting herself and has a very different and less permanent support group. For a single woman to have a child is a very difficult choice but the knowledge that she will never have children is also difficult.

Well, it is 2010, and I live in a world so different from the one of my childhood that I can sympathize with my grandmother's bemusement at stretchy baby clothes, television cartoons and suburbs built for car-driving families. Sometimes I imagine myself telling her about my neighbour who checks out her granddaughter via Skype. I own one dress and two pair of pantihose and run a graphics business out of my house while wearing slippers. The only constant in my life has just finished calculating that we have been married over twice as long as we were single. He does that kind of thing.

And I may haul out a bottle of champagne later on to-day.


  1. Oh, Mary, congratulations. You are wise and not jaded; realistic and not bitter. I raise a Virtual Glass to you and your incredible perceptiveness. I like you!

  2. What an interesting, ambivalent post. So far I have not regretted marrying, not for a second -- but I married when I was 28. It feels to me like the choice to have children changed my life much, much more radically; and that decision I have often second-guessed!

    I wonder if, once the children have been out of the house for awhile, I'll wish kind of nostalgically for the ability to move about unfettered.

  3. Congratulations, Mary. I think it's a real trick to manage 47 years.

  4. That is a very fine post, Mary. Very, very fine.

  5. You are my role model in so many ways - and I am so very proud and honoured that you are my Mom(and I share my bed with my furry beast ... although reading that back might cause some people pause!)

  6. loved this Mary. I love how you accept your life but at times question how it might have been different. I think we all do that. I enjoyed your walk through time and a look at how things have changed. Congratulations on 47 years of co-operative living :) and I love the YD's comment . . .

  7. YD, I thought I was doing that when my husband grew a Centennial beard.
    Anvil Cloud, Slouchy, thanks!
    Jennifer, when I married the choice included having children. It was expected that a marriage would result in children.
    Nance, there have been times .............!

  8. Congratulations Mary. As one of those single women whose grass you sometimes think is greener, I have to say I have never thought the grass was greener on the other side. The level of commitment and ability to compromise required to make a marriage work is unfathomable to me. And I congratulate anyone who is able to do it. I don't think I'd have the fortitude

  9. Congratulations, Mary. Love that photo - you look so chic. And young. I was not married at 20, but I was (due to the relaxed living arrangements at University) co-habiting with the man who would become Husband a few years later. I never actively made a decision about marriage versus the single life - I met H., we lived together and that just seemed right. I have never lived alone, never been self-sufficient and whilst I would never want to change the big aspects of my life, I do wonder from time to time whether I would have been up to doing the whole adult life thing alone. Hopefully I will never find out.

  10. Congratulations! Wow. How different times were when you married.

    Your dad may have been right about a large percentage of women attorneys ... I know a fair number who were indeed frustrated and miserable. I suspect I was one of them. ;-)

  11. Congratulations. 47 years. I have 34 to go to reach that. i love how honest you are about the ups and downs of marriage. so few people are willing to look at that, and admit it, I think. I find that most women either complain all the time, or pretend things are perfect all the time. Thank you for doing neither. ;)

    and the picture, and your observations, are priceless.

    i hope you enjoyed that champagne, and many more glasses in the years to come.

  12. i am very late to this, but loved it Mary. and love the photo of that very young you.

  13. Belated congratulations.Lovely photo of you.
    I think when we all got married, it was a different age. I don't think many could have survived by themselves.

    Nuts in May

  14. the neighbours grandaughters momWednesday, April 14, 2010 11:47:00 pm

    love this one Mary!