I need for you to remember that my entire relationship with my little Italian girl was held behind closed doors in regard to her parents. It was purely plutonic and conducted with all the respect and dignity I could muster. I knew virtually from the beginning that it would never step to a higher level. She was an angel and I always treated her as such. She was the purest thing in my entire life and I was satisfied with just being able to steal time with her whenever I could.
I did, on one occasion, meet her mother. She was very polite and cordial to me but at the same time she made it absolutely clear that the relationship with HER daughter would go no further. In fact, she made it clear that the relationship was OVER. I could tell that she was a strong willed woman and someone not to be trifled with. I was also soon to learn that my little Italian girl was her mother's daughter and I learned later that she had a touch of her father as well. This was based partly on the fact that after meeting her mother, I felt I wouldn't be seeing anymore of her and found out rather shortly that I was wrong.
So, let's get back to the Christmas present..."the fur coat." Personally, I thought it was a perfect gift and my gift of the jewelry box to her mother was my way of showing respect. However, mailing the presents to her home was not the brightest thing I have done in my life. My # 1 grandson refers to a mistake like this as a "major brain fart." Well, maybe he is right or maybe it was meant to be a part of a sequence of events that changed my life forever.
When the package arrived at her home, it caused a massive explosion that I knew nothing about. Her father totaly lost it and accused her of everything in the book. He accused her of being a whore and disgracing his name and family. He felt that no man would buy a fur coat for a woman unless he had possessed her virtue as well as her virginity. When she tried to defend herself and explain that she had brought no shame to herself, her family or her name, he didn't believe her and his anger turned from vocal to physical. He beat her rather severly and ordered that the gifts were to be returned. She was twenty-one at the time. Her sister Grace took possession of the fur coat and jewelry box and kept them for her. I had no idea any of this had transpired and it was probably God's will again, because if I had heard about it ahead of time, I would have most likely driven straight into Little Italy and commenced to issue her father the worse ass-whopping of his life, which in those times means I would have never left Little Italy alive. What an ordeal my girl must have went through.
When I arrived, several days after the beating, saw the bruises and heard the story, I totally lost it and went into a rage. I WAS heading for Little Italy and there was going to be retribution. I never was easy to control or stop when I got into this frame of mind but somehow, someway...she was able to calm me down and stop me from going. I'm not sure her telling me that if I did make the trip, we wouldn't see each other again because I wouldn't survive the trip had some effect.
We both knew that I had to report to Cleveland in a couple of days, so we spent as much time together as we could. After all, there was a war going on and I had no idea where I would be headed next. On one of our walks, I was just having a great time when she very nonchalantly asked me: "Do you still want to marry me?" Knowing there was no way possible that we could get married, I very nobly said, "Sure." She very calmly said, "O.K., Let's go." It was at this precise moment that I stumbled and fell off the curb. The die was cast and the left hook--struck home.
Two friends got into the act and it turned out to be quite an elopement. Leaving out some of the finer points in the plan to which I just nodded my head up and down, we wound up in Cleveland. After several stressful and exasperating days, we were married in a Catholic church. I personally was pretty much stunned during this whole time frame and sober as well, so I couldn't very well blame it on the lack of sobriety. It was just meant to be.
Suffice to say that the whole transition to becoming a married man changed everything about me in the snap of a finger. Some good and some not so good. The not so good side had absolutely nothing to do with my new "WIFE" in reference to our relationship other than taking us to a new level where neither of us knew how to act. No, the not so good side had more to do with uncontrolable circumstances, timing and the times themselves. You see, at the time of our marriage, the military didn't acknowledge wives as dependants. There were no additional benefits available then as there are today. No extra pay. No military housing. No medical coverage. They just didn't exist. Then, there was the war. I didn't know where I would be from day to day but I did know that the time would come when I would go O.C.S. (that's "over choppy seas" folks not Officer Candidate School). I knew this war was for the duration as far as serving went. Basically this meant that once I went, I would be gone until it was over. Nothing like Vietnam where a tour of duty was usually 12-13 months and you were rotated home. I knew that once I left, it could be years before I returned, if at all. The military didn't give a damn that I would be leaving a wife behind.
I knew that I had married a strong-willed and intelligent woman. But as in all relationships, there was a whole lot about this woman that I didn't have a clue about and it would be a learning experience for both of us that would last a life time. (roughly 58 years now and counting) There were things about her that would on more than one occasion cause me severe heartburn. But as I reflect back I've come to realize that the Good Lord must have assigned her a guardian angel on a full time basis. What I never thought about was I was married to an absolutely beautiful woman wwith numerous positive character traits. On the down side, I was married to a woman who had lead a completely sheltered life and knew nothing outside her world in Boston. She was totally naive to aspects of life outside her small sheltered world. The problem for me was that I generally didn't find out about this flaw until I was in the position to protect and educate her. A good example of what I'm talking about-- I'm in the middle of the Pacific Ocean when we had a mail call. This was one of the most important if not THE most important event for a military person when they're away from home. I get a letter from my "wife" and I run to my private place to savor the moment. As I'm reading the letter, I learn that she has befriended and been taken in by a "B" girl and a "Call" girl. She wasn't sure what a "B" girl was but the "Call" girl was a telephone operator who seemed to enjoy working the night shift.......hmmmmmm, more on this story later.
After completing the school in Cleveland, I got orders to report to a nucleus crew for a Destroyer Escort, so off we were to Florida. After just a month in Florida, I got orders to a new ship in Mare Island, California. I was forced to leave my "wife" with some friends. There was no need for her to come to California as we were underway nearly all the time making what we called pineapple runs to Pearl Harbor and back. It wasn't long before I got word from an old shipmate and his wife that they wanted my sweety to come to houston, Texas until my routine settled down a bit. So, off to Texas she went, going to live with some more total strangers. Now, my little sweety has always had this winning way about her and they fell in love with er immediately.
After several of these pineapple runs, we got word that we were going to get a months worth of post commissioning duty in San Francisco. When we hit San Diego, I wired my "wife" to go to San Francisco, check into the YWCA and I would find her once we docked. Oh Boy! Life was looking Good! When the ship docked in Frisco, I hit the YWCA and when I got to the counter I was as excited as a 5 year old on Christmas morning, but then I was told by a little old lady that no such person was registered. They had never heard of her. I grabbed the first phone I could find and called my friends in Texas, only to be told that she had left 5 days earlier. Now my euphoria had turned to panic. Fortunately, my friends Uncle was head of security for the rail line and there was an alert set out which encompassed all the railroad detectives and State Police between there and frisco. Now the panic was full blown. I was given 2 days emergency leave to find her as we were putting out to sea again. I decided to try the YWCA to see if they had heard anything. While talking to the little old lady again, the woman in charge overheard the conversation and stepped up and asked me if I was looking for a "pretty little black haired girl." I responed. "that fits her." She proceeded to tell me that when my sweety tried to check in, they were full so she sent her to a hotel that handled the overflow. Seems the little old lady forgot about that place! I was out the door before I could get pissed and with God as my witness, I could have most probably outrun Beep Beep the roadrunner getting to that hotel.
What a sight it was to see that little doll. The weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. After all the hugging, smooching and swinging was over, she got real serious and said ( a bit testily I might add), "WHERE have YOU been? You were suppose to pick me up four days ago!" She was totally oblivious to the woman hunt that was going on to locate her. I phoned the authorities and advised them that she had been found ....and so ended the saga of my little lost doll. (She had already found a job and started working.)
When I contacted the ship to advise them that I had located my "wife", the skipper told me to stay put and they'd be back in a week. The lady running the hotel arranged a room for us when I was in port and my "wife" stayed in the dormitory when I was gone. So, as the saying goes: All's wee that ends well.
© 1997 ervd@hotmail.com
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