In the Beginning
There's a newspaper article in today's issue of the National Post : "Teenage lovers' bodies found after 20-year search", it reads. The article describes a mystery that has haunted a northern British Columbia mill town for the past 20 years has finally come to an end after searchers combing a heavily wooded area north of town discovered the remains of a pair of teenage lovers who were missing since 1985. The boy was 18, the girl 15. They had fallen in love, but the girl's parents had forbidden their daughter to date, deeming her far too young and too busy for romance, according to the article.When I was 14, aeons ago, I met a young boy, then also 14, although at the time I was under the impression that he was a year older. I met him, in fact, at my parents' house. He had been brought along to a little 'party' a gathering of young boys and girls which my parents had allowed me to arrange. He had accompanied a young boy whom I knew and who was interested in me, although I had no interest in him. From the moment I saw this boy, the moment he walked into my house, I 'recognized' him. I knew, somehow, that he was the one person I had been waiting for, all of my 14 long years of existence. Many years later, say 40 years later, I asked if he could recall feeling that way. He laughed, said he was attracted to the little girl with the red sweater, but eschewed any thought of pre-recognition. He is a practical one to be sure.
I can't recall the party. Looking back, I'm a little surprised at a party at age 14, but that's the way it was. With some girlfriends from school I had gone several times to a converted house on Spadina Avenue which was a meeting place for young Jewish boys and girls, and we had met some boys, been invited to several parties. It was, I guess, a lively social gathering. It must have been there that I had met the young man I wasn't interested in, who brought along his sister-in-law's younger brother to my informal party.
A girlfriend of mine who lived across the street whom I had also invited to the party indicated her definite interest in the boy I now thought of as 'mine'. I telephoned this boy soon after the party, inviting him to drop over on the following week-end. My girlfriend, a long-time friend, was furious with me, and our friendship took a downturn before long. The boy, though, appeared interested in me too, and thus began a long and intimate friendship between two very young people. Well, that was - let's see, we're 68 now - 54 years ago.
He began coming over frequently, and we would go out for long walks in the neighbourhood, sometimes to area parks, sometimes just walking on the street, and talking. We would go to dances together at that same community centre, with other young people we knew - some of whom also formed long and lasting relationships. My parents weren't terribly pleased with this instant bonding, this too-soon pairing-off. All the more so as they became aware of just who his father was. My parents were socialists, bookish, hard-working and working poor who moved within in a social milieu of like-minded socially-active people, most of whom were immigrants like themselves. His parents were also immigrants but apolitical, unlettered and concerned only with furthering their personal social standing and opportunites for economic advancement. His father was not a 'mensch'; crude and rude but very mindful of sartorial impression and he was invariably impeccably turned out. While my parents were concerned with the advancement of society and equal opportunities for everyone, and worked diligently with others toward achieving that considerable end, his were concerned only with their own well being and held prejudices spurned by my parents and their friends. Not a suitable companion for me.
When their stated objections to my continued friendship with this boy did not impress me, as I suggested to them I had no interest in the father, only the son, they sought another tack. The opportunity arose when I had been on an outing with the boy and his family one day in the summer, and although I had not agreed to accompany the family unless I could be returned at a stated hour, and his father had agreed, the reality was that I arrived back home too late. I'd had a baby-sitting appointment at a neighbour's house (my mother arranged all such appointments - I hated baby-sitting), and my parents were furious with me. I was never to see that boy again, and that was that.
As it happened, I had a year-old brother at the time, and because my mother was very busy, helping my father out when time permitted in his little corner store on Bloor Street, a ten-minute walk from where our house was located, it fell to me often to look after the child. Which provided me with the opportunity to arrange meetings with my friend at, for example, Christie Pit Park, where I would take my baby brother for an outing. Eventually, word got back to my parents that I continued to see my friend, and they confronted me. I don't recall the details, but they relented, perhaps realizing that to continue forbidding me would only result in continued furtive meetings.
Our relationship resumed as it had been. He would walk me to parochial school, (after regular school hours) or wait for me to exit the school, then walk me home again. We continued to see one another after school on a daily basis, and on the week-ends. We had fun with friends, at various types of gatherings. My mother continued to make things difficult as she always found an unkind thing to say about him, and would even accuse him of underhanded behaviour, but I never did believe her, and resented her manner toward him.
When we were 17 we had been together for three years and wanted to marry. We told our parents this and they told us it couldn't be done, we were simply too young. We thought about eloping, but decided to listen to our parents, as they agreed that we could become formally engaged, and as long as we waited another year, until we were 18 years of age, they would agree to the marriage. And so it was. At 18 we were married. It was a formal marriage, the type that all parents envision for their children, an opportunity to host a formal party as it were, for their many friends. This was the last thing on earth we wanted. We wanted something small and intimate, involving only those people who were closest around us but it was not to be. So we suffered through what we both felt was the necessary unpleasantness of a traditional wedding.
After which we both had what we so desperately wanted. To be together. Who knows what might have happened with that young couple in B.C.? They might indeed have married had their parents been willing to let nature take its course. They might have produced children, might have remained together in love, or the relationship might have failed over the years. No one will ever know. Parents try to do the best they can for their children. They're not always right, but they do have the best interests of their children at heart.
Over the years we lost touch with the other young people we used to go out with and with whom we had spent so much time in shared leisure pursuits. A year ago, when I was speaking over the telephone with my sister who lives in Toronto she mentioned a familiar name to me. This was a woman whom she and her husband had met at a dancing club they regularly attend. In enquiring about each other's backgrounds: where they had gone to school, that kind of thing, this woman said she had known someone once with the same last name as my sister's maiden name. I gave my sister my e-mail address to pass on to her new friend, in the event she was on the Internet, and soon received an e-mail from her. And although others of our old-time friends were not computer-literate, I've since spoken with them on the telephone, or corresponded with them. None of them are still in intact marriages; some due to divorce or death. After all, 50 years and counting is quite a long time.
posted by Pieface @ Saturday, May 14, 2005
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