Читать книгу Through These Eyes - Lauren Ann Isaacson - Страница 19

Table of Contents

Norm/Marriage

As the years aged to decades, college became the educational replacement for high school. My dad attended, and graduated from high school in an era when, in some areas, relatively few accomplished that feat, and fewer still furthered their academic standing by enrolling in a college. Mom, born ten years later, was able to earn a teaching certificate after two years of college. By the time my parents married and raised their children, college had evolved into a common aspiration, and both Sharon and Todd took full advantage of their educational opportunities, each earning their Bachelor Degree and excelling in their respective fields of study.

College had almost become a given, especially with the advent of the less expensive community colleges which boasted low tuition and the option to eat and sleep at home. Unless one obtained a good job, college seemed to be the national answer for the unmarried and unemployed, as well as the aspiring professionals. It was just the thing to do, and, in certain cases, this was unfortunate; in commonality, education lost its honor and significance.

The adverse affect which seemed to encroach upon some college graduates, who, feeling educated and superior, were still unable to "adequately employ" their mighty selves (and later collapsed into a pool of confusion) did not touch Norm. Well tuned to his inner needs, he excused himself from the collegiate race hours short of attaining a two year degree. Mom was discouraged, of course, but Norm stood fast to his decision, since graduation required that he take speech. He was phobic in group situations despite his outer appearance of self-assured collectiveness, and he, with reason, feared that in such a class he would meet his demise. Moreover, he had no intention of acquiring a "career"; he wanted to find employment with relatively little tension after which he could return home and, suffering no mental fatigue or emotional anguish, settle into an easy chair and persue a philosophy book or take a carefree evening ride on his motorcycle.

Since Norm had funded his entire college education, no obligation had been left unfulfilled and he was free to seek his dreams. I knew he didn't care about owning a fabulous car; he had too much fun with the various junkers that he managed to fish out of the used car lots. I will never forget the time that he and several other guys rocked the Rambler until it stood on its side; impervious to further damage than that which its previous owners had provoked, the car was finally righted, seeming no worse for the affair.

Other than finding a job, I was not certain of the type of ambitions that Norm possessed. He had always been rather quiet, given to infrequent bursts of conversation between lapses of brooding silence, but now, his silence sometimes masked turbid emotions. Whereas Todd had openly rebelled and demonstrated his conflicting views with society and the reigning generation of "elders," Norm fumed within, concealing gaps of understanding and petty annoyances with a disconcerting unwillingness to speak. He spent more and more time alone, and if his space was disturbed, he often quit the room for other surroundings. This latter incident was most notable upon the arrival of one of our parents; I, as well as they, sensed his intolerance for their presence, and although it was unpleasant for everyone, such injury seemed to coexist with the search for freedom and independence in youth. Personally, I could do nothing but cringe, for even within such silent battles, emotional bruises were in great supply.

Because of their changes toward self-sufficiency, young adults become progressively more difficult for their parents. I say this because it is at this time in a young person's life that he tests and selects those morals by which he shall live, choosing, bending or sometimes brutalizing the ideals which his parents had feverishly sought to instill into, and hopefully command his life. It is extremely difficult for parents who witness a seeming metamorphosis in the child they helped to create; astonishingly radical modes of thought practiced by their "child" can be a devastating blow. While certain "demonstrations of individuality" will subside with age, it is important that parents not blame themselves for faults within their children. A good, solid foundation is all that parents are expected to give to their off-spring; beyond the foundation, growth must be left to the child, for although he may have been erected to maturity under the utmost guidance and love, the child remains an individual, a human with a unique mind.

When Norm began dating a woman who worked at the shop, it evoked a natural aura of curiosity. He had never before dated, and we at home were surprised and pleased that he had taken interest in someone; indeed, such was his interest that he soon was absent from the house on a daily basis. Mom made several invitations to Norm for the purpose of meeting his girl, but none were accepted, so the suggestions fell to a minimum and subsided altogether. It was never Mom's habit to pry, thinking that such behavior would only serve as a constraining influence.

Moreover, Norm was legally an adult and had a right to his privacy. Months elapsed yet we were not introduced to the mysterious girl who had stolen Norm's penchant for solitude. "Maybe Norm's embarrassed … or embarrassed of her," I deducted. I began to wonder if she was fat, envisioning a rotund but jovial cherry who worked diligently on a drill press, her body a package of perpetual motion when she laughed or descended a flight of stairs. "That's unfair," I thought to myself, chastising both my ignorance and presuppositions.

The family's internal relations sank lower, although no outright war existed. Norm continued to see his girl, now referred to as "Tracy," while Mom and Dad continued to wonder and worry as each date seemed to end at a later hour. I merely continued to go to school and do my chores on Saturday. As I dusted Norm's room, I noticed greeting cards which he had received from Tracy, the softly romantic kind that I dreamed over at the drug store. Love, Tracy … her signature was a hurried scrawl, the letters a combination of vertical lines and rigid points. I picked up each card and dusted the dresser, carefully replacing them in their orderly march across the old piece of furniture. A spare pair of Norm's glasses rested on the vanity. I took off my glasses and placed his on my face. Pulling aside the curtain, I gazed at the woods below, blinking to counteract the strength of his glasses, I could see like an eagle! Norm's eyes were still worse than mine, but mine were going fast. With each child, eyesight grew progressively poorer in our family. I knew I was doomed. Distraught, I took off the glasses and moved to the other side of the vanity. A furry ball wearing a horned helmet and brandishing a wooden club met my eyes, and I picked up the Nordic figure with a smile. I figured that it was a gift from Tracy but I asked Norm anyway. "Yeh … ," he admitted with a grin. "She likes to think of me as a Viking."

Upon the celebration of Norm's birthday he received a beautifully tailored shirt from Tracy. She was a gifted seamstress, fitting shirts to Norm's muscular frame in a way that could not be equalled. Such specialization and effort made me certain that she wanted to snare Norm.

Aside from occasional, subtle teasing, I did not burden Norm with a parcel of inquiries. If the relationship was as "serious" (or, "sincere," a word which I prefer) as it seemed, Tracy would soon have to make an appearance. So it was that one evening, when Mom happened to be gone, Norm brought Tracy to meet us. She was thin, well-proportioned and attractive, and quite unlike my mental meanderings. Her personality was pleasantly outgoing, yet not overbearing. I liked her immediately; she made a good "first impression."

Mom finally met Tracy during a family rendezvous at my sister's home. We no longer had to subsist upon fragments of unsubstantial suppositions; Tracy was a person, not a figment of one's imagination. The introduction helped to mask the tensions within our home, yet something remained amiss which corroded the trust between my parents and Norm. He battled for freedom; as is often the case, however, the conflicts were internal, waged between who he was and who he wanted to be in an uncertain world.

After months of unanswered questions, Mom went upstairs with some of Norm's clean clothes and, pulling open a drawer, found it entirely stripped of its former contents. She pulled open another … and another … they, too, were empty. Mom now faced an even greater question. Norm had moved out with no warning while the three of us were absent from the house. He was gone. But where? And why?

That evening, Norm came back to the house to reveal his intentions, and to give Mom and Dad a formal explanation regarding his sudden move. His appearance alone served to quickly escalate the conversation toward a destination which was beyond my realm of involvement, so I turned to one of the far corners of the kitchen where my gerbil cage was situated and stared unseeingly at my pet while listening intently to the scenario unfolding behind me.

Norm stated that he had moved in with Tracy. "You kids got married then!" Mom exclaimed, moving closer as if to embrace her son. A quiet, no frills wedding would have been characteristic of Norm. "No … ," he replied. A silence followed his statement, as if each person was attempting to understand the conversation which was unfolding and see beyond the misconceptions that had obscured the truth.

"You mean you're just going to live with each other?" Mom asked. "Didn't our marriage and family mean anything to you?" She was aghast, tearful, frustrated.

Norm appeared awestruck by the magnanimous fervor he had evoked. He had not thought that marriage could have meant so much to my parents. "You have made a beautiful home!" Norm exclaimed, "But it just can't be for me."

Questions flurried about the room like a mid-summer blizzard; upset parents, I learned, excelled in the art of interrogation. Mom's voice had transformed into a slightly nasal, high-pitched whine which characterized both disapproval and sickness of heart, while Dad's speech quickened into abrupt, angry darts which leapt through the air and stung their recipient. To each question, Norm bowed his head a bit lower. "If she loves you, she'd marry you."

"It just can't be for me." It was all he could say. He loved Tracy, and wanted to spend his life with her; love of the heart should require no legal document to assure its sincerity. He could not understand the importance of marriage.

Norm's was an idealistic view of human love. Society, however, having judged man's ineptitude in the areas of honesty and integrity, found that unceremonious love was not, generally speaking, taken as seriously as love proclaimed before an audience in the form of predetermined vows. In certain circles, religion amplified the significance of marriage, entrenching the ceremony itself into the hearts and minds of society … and to my parents; moreover, it was tradition. To them, love alone was not enough to justify a man and a woman living together as one unit; Norm's proposition was a revolt against their values.

An ultimatum surfaced after all of the questions had spilled from my parent's minds: Norm would no longer be welcome in the home unless he married. Tears welled up in Norm's eyes and he began to sob; Mom and Norm held each other in a long, emotional embrace. So much depended on the future; a hug was all that they had. Until then, I had been eyeing the gerbil cage feverishly as the discussion raged behind me. Norm had under-estimated mom and dad and their inflexible scale of values, but even I could not swallow such a voluminous consequence of co-habitation. How could marriage be so important that one would no longer consider his son a person because he desired to live unwed with his beloved? Did not love matter more than all else?

Apparently it did not. I could listen to no more if I had to assume that I was going to lose my brother. I choked upon a mountainous wave of hysteria, and with tears blinding my vision, went wailing out of the kitchen into the sheltering darkness of my own room. I felt like a fool, flying from the argument in such an undignified manner. "Now look what you've done," said Dad, seeing my agitated state of mind. It was not Norm's fault, however; I knew, and Norm knew; my distress was related only to the thought of losing Norm forever; it was like a planned death. I could not handle such a loss.

"I'll drive you to Tracy's apartment … you can get your things and come back here," Dad offered. It was a final plea, an attempt to make amends before the damage was done.

Norm shook his head. "I'm sorry … I can't." Not after all that had been said. He was trembling; like an injured animal, he wanted only to run and hide from further hurt. Mom knew he couldn't return that night, but as the door closed and her son disappeared into the dark abyss, she prayed that he would change his mind.