Very Interesting Parents

My parents were very interesting people. They were not politicians or inventors. My folks were not engaged in great philosophy or prominent protests. What made my parents interesting was their motivation to get away from oppressive parents. Unfortunately neither had the means to do so independently. One day on a park bench they met. Six months later they eloped to the dismay of my maternal grandmother who expected my mother to care for her now that my grandmother was a widow. My paternal grandparents were relieved that there was one less child to worry about. I say child because my father was 10 years younger than my mother.

My father lived in Puerto Rico and attended a Catholic School. He hated the priests that taught there and apparently there was one in particular who he just loathed. One day my father climbed a tree that the priest was sure to pass on his way to the rectory. Prior to climbing the tree, my father stuffed his pockets with rocks. Just as expected the priest was making his way past the tree when my father started pelting him with rocks. The priest was so stunned that he suffered a fatal heart attack. My dad was 14 at the time. My grandparents fearful that he would understandably get into big time trouble, quickly sent him to New York to stay with his brother. His brother Juanito, was married to a villain of a wife. After a short time she insisted that my father be put out. Juanito offered my father his car to sleep in. Since my father had neither money nor other prospects he had no choice but to agree. The fact that it was January and freezing outside didn’t seem to factor much on the consciousness of this woman or my uncle. Fortunately, three months later my father met my mother and life started to look up for him.

My folks never sugar coated the point of their union. They did not marry for love but for convenience. There wasn’t much money between them but my mother had some savings and worked full time at a glove factory which seemed like riches to my dad who had been cold and starving for three months. Immediately upon marrying they sent a telegram to my maternal grandmother announcing the marriage. My mother moved out of her mother’s apartment and rented a room from none other than her new brother-in-law and his wife. The euphoria of independence was short lived. My mother quickly noticed that my father was either unwilling or unable to find work. They fought often and when I say fight I mean with their fists. My dad was not kind and mother wasn’t the type to take crap since she had already been doing that for her whole 29 years prior to meeting my dad. This marriage was supposed to give her a real chance at living and instead she was simply existing - IN HELL.

Despite their tumultuous relationship, my father asked my mother to stop using birth control so they could have a baby. She agreed and was pregnant within a few months. My mother suffered with hyperemedís gravidarum which is a fancy way of saying she couldn’t stop puking her guts out. However, she continued to work but many times she had to leave early due to severe illness. This affected their already strained finances because my mother was paid a very minimum amount but made much more depending on how many pairs of gloves she was able to produce daily. She made a comfortable amount in commission but if she wasn’t there to do the work then she made next to nothing. Her foreman took pity on her and gave her some material to take home to help her boost her income. This kindness helped at the beginning of her pregnancy but as she approached her third trimester she found going into work nearly impossible. She was so weak and dehydrated much of the time that her foreman insisted she stay home but he promised that her position was secure and wanted her to return once the baby was born.

My father began to make more of an effort to find and keep work. However, there was a new revelation. My father was spending most of what he made on booze. As it turned out he was an alcoholic and he really did not have an issue finding work but he couldn’t keep the jobs because he was often too hung over the next day and just slept in. My mother was very vocal about her displeasure but there was not much she could do. Aside from being weak she had no one to turn to. Her mother was not speaking to her because she married against her wishes and my mother’s sister sided with my grandmother. Coincidentally my aunt was pregnant as well and both sisters were due in November of 1955. My grandmother was tickled pink about my aunt but refused to acknowledge my mother. My uncle and his wife had a bird’s eye view of the situation but did not intervene. Moreover, there were times when my mother literally did not have enough to eat and instead of offering this pregnant woman some food they would discard left overs often in her presence. My mother would quietly retreat to her room because she still had her pride and refused to cry in front of her tormentors.

My mother´s due day came and went. On November 26 my aunt had a baby girl. My mother would have contractions but she failed to progress. Mom was close to a month overdue but her labor was going no where. As much as I loved my mom I honestly find this next part a bit difficult to believe. She said that the clinic where she sought care was run by nuns and nurses. She stated many times that the Catholic facility saw cesarían births as not a real birth and insisted she continue to labor. My brother was finally born on December 2 weighing a bit over 10 pounds and not breathing well. It was assumed that he may have stopped breathing while still in utero because he presented poorly at birth. My father went to see my grandmother to deliver the news. ¨What no telegram this time¨ she said. My father opened up to her about how they had been living. My grandmother did not gloat or pass judgment. She offered for my parents to come live with her and she would care for the baby while my parents worked. Grandma was very clear that she expected that they BOTH go out to work. My father cried and hugged her gratefully. He insisted that he would change and his goal was to be a good husband and father. My grandmother familiar with the well intended but often empty promises of alcoholics quoted a passage from the Bible, ¨It is better not to vow than to make a vow and not fulfill it. Do not let your mouth lead you into sin.” My father smiled and without comment turned to leave.