Puzzling over how to do the story
of my daughter's father. Every time I start, I find that my story with him is
explained and clarified by my story. For example, we met when I was 17 and he
was 23. He'd just gotten out of the army, and I was dating my first boyfriend
and exchanging letters with a soldier in Viet Nam, who I'd gotten engaged to
when he was on leave.
As Bill said, he--"suave
older man" swept me off my feet. He's gone now, died early at 63. We had a
lot of fun together. His Pellegrini family embraced young me, feeding me,
inviting me to family events, including me in holidays. His Swedish mom loaded
me with gifts. I was so shy and overwhelmed that I turned many down. Goodness,
the woman was offering me jewelry and expensive clothing.
A charming and affable person,
Bill was also quite handsome...along the lines of the profile of Henry
Kissinger. He was muscular and had been a sergeant stationed in Germany where
he learned how to toss a rifle around like a baton in drill training. He was
put in charge of maintaining radio towers, jeeping to distant spots, meeting
lots of frauleins, drinking plenty of beer, loving all the foods and customs.
He and my mother immediately were fond of each other, partly due to their
shared love of the German language and culture. They also both loved to
cook.
Bill worked at the Olympic
Hotel Garage where he was often chosen to limousine high level guests.
"I've met everyone I've ever wanted to meet" he said to me after we'd
married. (I recall that included Danny Kaye and Jack Benny, but so many
others.)
During our courtship, I often
went downtown and spent time at the library (after my community college
classes) until Bill could take me back to his "apartment"--some rooms
he shared with best friend Jay at the top of a family home. Sometimes, I took
the bus to arrive there with a dozen eggs or some other cheap food to cook. We
had fun shopping around their scant bachelor cupboards, creating recipes. I
recall a chowder made with some clams, milk, and canned yams. We were quite
tickled with us. Later, once married, we watched Graham Kerr, the Galloping
Gourmet, who reminded both of us of Bill. (Both were Capricorns and Bill was
always quite proud of being a "goat." He was born 1/15/1944. January
15th was Martin Luther King’s birthday and that only made me love
Bill more as I’d always so respected MLK.
Though we were both young and
stupid about relationships, we really cared for each other and liked to please
one another. I recall feeling so comfortable and jolly and loving in most of my
times with Bill.
When we’d been dating for a
couple of years, I was beginning to want signs of more commitment. I asked him if
he loved me as he’d not said it. He said, “Is the Pope Catholic?” Now, I was
young enough that I didn’t know that meant, “Of course, I do.” So there was a
hilarious back and forth about what the Pope had to do with it before he just
came out and said the words in frustration.
Shortly after that, he arrived at
a date somewhere between my Halloween time birthday and Christmas. He was
carrying a huge armload of flowers, bright and beautiful reds and pinks. They weren't live, but really nicely made artificial ones. As he handed this to me, he said he wanted them to last so I could remember this time forever. They lasted longer than he did, sadly.
Shortly after that, we decided to get married. I was 19 and a half. Mom and Dad were a little concerned about this because I was so young. Bill was bravely there but when the question of whether we'd had sex yet or not came up, he acted like he didn't know or like why is this question being asked. I turned to my father and said, "Yes, of course we have...you were there, you know," I added to Bill. Who again harrumphed uselessly. The parents allowed it, but Bill and I got married with only his mother in attendance at a small chapel. We both had jobs, but were frugal. I'd bought my own gold band as Bill circled the block around Weisfield's.
So this is a start. So hard to find the parts of our story, his story. So many other things I haven't added...the whole story of him being a twin and adopted. Of losing his brother at 21. More to add to this story...my pregnancy, early days with our daughter, buying a house and working on it.
