One of my Mom's first boyfriends died today. He was such a sweet man. I really liked him, and I always harbored this hope that they would someday get together. I feel sorry for her because I know she really cared about him and she's sad. This isn't the senile billionaire in London, this is another man who my Grandmother didn't think was good enough for my Mom so she scared him off.
My Grandmother could be fierce about getting her way, so I don't fault him for giving up. He had a job driving a truck for Penzoil and didn't have any money. His mother was a seamstress, or alterations lady, at Bullocks Wilshire, and my Grandmother didn't like having this woman, who was pinning the hem of her dress, telling her that her son was dating her daughter. She told my Mother, "I didn't sacrifice everything and put you through Stanford to marry a truck driver." My Grandmother was a tough cookie. She came from nothing, and made millions of dollars, at a time when people had very little to live on. Social ambition was everything to her and she wanted my Mother to marry someone from a "good" family. When my Mother finally did marry, she eloped with someone else that my grandmother didn't think was good enough, so she locked herself in her room for a week. Wouldn't eat or drink or some out for anything, until a friend came by and said, "Peggy, we've got to so something about the kids. This isn't right, you have simply got to throw them a party." To which my Grandmother replied by instantly unlocking her bedroom door, and with a tear stained face said, "Party?"
I feel funny writing about this because my Mom is so protective of her privacy. Ever since that silly article came out in the paper and people have been finding me by it, I've been worried that there might be a very remote chance that one of her friends might be able to find me. Although escalators are still a pretty new and scary thing to my Mom so I think computers are pretty far beyond their reach.
You know, when my Mother was a little girl they didn't have refrigerators, they had an ice box, and a man would come and bring a big block of ice that they would put inside it. My Grandmother hated that my Grandfather was always out on the porch fiddling with a crystal set, before radios. I think my Grandfather had one of the first cars in Los Angeles. My Mom was on the first television show to be broadcast from Los Angeles. There was a man who would put on television shows from his car lot, he was a car salesman, and he asked Mom to put on a fashion show. They put black lipstick on her and she was terrified. Her life has been so amazing, when I think of all of the different directions it could have gone in it amazes me.
PS: I know the insectivores and the shells don't have anything to do with this post in terms of theme but they're so cool I had to share them. Insectivore, I love the sound of that word.
PPS: Ala is at my vet's home, I hugged her goodbye just in case I never see her again. I'm afraid to call to see how she is.