The female lead in this story is my birthday buddy, which obviously makes her very special to me. She is also my aunt-my mom’s bestie throughout the years. At least once a summer I would travel out to Avon, Indiana (before it was a hoppin’ suburb) to work in her garden. Annually I was reminded that snapping green beans & swipin’ at insects were equally exhausting to me.
Shirley and Gilbert celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary on July 4th, 2001; he passed away 9 days later, just before his 67th birthday. I had watched him deteriorate in front of my eyes as I progressed in age from single to double digits. I remember inquiring what he “had” but I have trouble recalling the answers. One of my super powers is to fog over when gory details are articulated.
In simple terms, Gilbert had crippling, complete-body arthritis. Doctors said eventually all of his bones would fuse together. He once had neck surgery that resulted in him only being able to see the floor, so he had another surgery in which doctors purposely broke his neck in order to reset it. (When bones are broken intentionally, I’m convinced some extra bad shit is going down, because isn’t that exactly what we aim to avoid?) My uncle wore a metal halo above his crown that was connected to straight metal bars down to his clavicle. What braces do for teeth is what I am guessing this contraption was supposed to do for his neck.
Gilbert walked in scoots instead of strides but was able to alter his birth-determined dominant hand during his middle ages. He then learned how to guide a huge wood cutting machine to create extremely intricate art. The Eiffel Tower pictured was one of my faves. When I attempt to scrawl my name with my left hand, it could easily be mistaken for the scribbles of a pre-schooler, yet Gilbert’s crafts earned ribbons at the Indiana State Fair.
As a young girl, this impressed me incredibly because what better honor to receive than to be acknowledged by an establishment that has the world’s best elephant ears ever! As a grown woman, I’m deeply humbled by the incredible determination and grit of Gilbert. I now also recognize the un-ribboned, necessary-as-hell, tireless support Shirley obviously contributed to her husband and 4 children. While her husband made his achievements, she was performing her acts of service behind-the-scenes.
On the day they met, Shirley remembers walking up to Gilbert after he was finished practicing with his band. They had visited her church. He asked if he could drive her home. She informed her friends of this plan and then arrived at his car. There was a yellow rose in the passenger seat awaiting her arrival.
I wasn’t wise enough to ask Gilbert how he remembered this encounter when he was still alive. I have so many questions: What kind of music did the band play besides liturgical? (Certain answers would blow the entire paradigm I’ve established for my aunt.) What was his instrument or was he the singer? Did he have a supply of roses in his car because he was a hopeless romantic or did he hurriedly borrow one from the church service? Alas, I find it disrespectful to dig further into a story when the teller is obviously ready to escape the vibe that sometimes accompanies a trip down memory lane.
Shirley and Gilbert met in October 1955 and were married the following summer. They did not break up during their courtship. Shirley was 10 days shy of being 17 years old when she walked down the aisle. My daughter is currently 15 years old, only behind her brother by 3 years. I can say with absolute confidence that neither of them would be ready for the commitment that teenagers were jumping into (successfully, mind you) 5 decades or so ago.
75% of the marriages I have written about so far began when the couples were teenagers in the 1950s. When learning about their relationships, my first thought is that the world certainly isn’t the same place that it used to be. Individuals didn’t seem to change as much between 20 and 30 as they do now. I was a different person after completing college than I was at my high school graduation. I morphed again after becoming a mom and then again after divorce. Information was at my fingertips and influences abound. But then I’m reminded of the heavy issues that were taking place back then. I have become a 5 pound heavier, slightly less productive version of myself over the course of a 2-month quarantine, so it’s likely that transformations took place while intense issues like the Civil Rights Movements were on center stage for years. The internet wasn’t around, but times and people were definitely changing.
Therefore, this love story reminded me that every person is simply doing their best in any given moment in time. Surrendering is sometimes the answer, but for another couple, so is sticking it out. Each situation has multiple circumstances that make it unique from all others. My mom once told me that Gilbert was the funniest man she ever knew. This leads me to believe that humor was a key ingredient in the 45 years my aunt and uncle shared.