Note: While a good part of me is desperate to give a scathing review of Britney Spears and its impact on pop culture and another part of me feels obligate to write something about September 11 and what it means to remember, I have decided that I will not be touching those topics until later in the week. There is still too much hype from Britney and it is so cliché to write about September 11th. I don’t believe that I can address those topics in a meaningful way at this time so I decline to do so until I feel ready. But trust me, I will.
On Saturday afternoon, I found myself shopping in Macy’s for dress clothes for Brian with my father which was not something I had planned to do. I had planned to go to my parents’ house, have my mother iron Brian’s new dress shirt and then head home but my mother’s quick departure to a hair appointment threw a wrench in those plans. I was grateful when my father offered to show me how to iron the dress shirt but one burnt fifty-five dollar French cuff shirt later, I was wondering if I made the correct decision.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, Macy’s was having their Labor Day One Day Sale on Saturday which meant prices were great but the lines were massive. We managed to find something similar to the burnt shirt in the very last one in Brian’s size. The line seemed to go on forever and very quickly, I found myself engaged in awkward conversation with my father.
My dad is not really a much of a talker in the best of circumstances. He’s a quiet guy, insightful. He’s the type of man that you have significant conversations with at home or in a nice restaurant on a predetermined date. He is not the type of man who wants to have a great conversation in line at a Macy’s. Whereas I’m the type of girl who does want to have those conversations.
We very quickly burned through the conversation he was willing to make. So I moved on to birthdays, anniversaries, upcoming significant family events. It just so happens that my parents’ sixteenth wedding anniversary is in two weeks so I asked my dad what he and my mom would like for a gift.
I was quickly alerted that this was an inappropriate question for me to ask. My father, apparently, believes that an anniversary is a private, intimate event between two people. An anniversary has nothing to do with anyone other than the two people who were involved.
I was shocked. And mildly insulted.
In a strange way, I realized that the words coming out of my father’s mouth went against everything I was raised to believe. And somehow, I felt like I was being left out in the cold by my family.
As a child raised with just a mother, I knew any marriage she was able to make was also a marriage with me. A potential husband for her was a potential father for me. We were a package deal and there was no way to separate us. My mother’s second husband adopted me following the wedding, making him the only father I have ever known. The marriage that took place in September of 1991 marks not only the beginning of my mother’s life with my father but the beginning of stability for me as well. Their anniversary is far more than just them.
Even more importantly, I was hurt as a Christian. A wedding between a man and a woman is not a rope with two strands but a rope with three strands representing Man, Woman and God. My father seemed to be leaving God out of his marriage. I also believe that a marriage is an event with in a community and therefore, shouldn’t the anniversary of that marriage also be an event within a community? If it does not continue to have that significance, then why do we take the time and effort to engage in premarital counseling through the Church, have the wedding ceremony take place in a Church and then invite a multitude of family and friends to the event? It seems to me that in order for a marriage to be successful, a community needs to stand behind it and in it. The support of other followers of Christ is what separates Christian marriages from our contemporary counterparts.
I’m still not sure what I want to say to my dad on the matter. I did some sleuthing and discovered where they are celebrating the day with a meal. It’s my intent to do something nice to mark the day, regardless of his desire for my involvement. Maybe its stubbornness or maybe it is a desire to be more Christ like in my actions. I have yet to determine which option it is.
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