What is love?
Is it a union of souls? A meeting of minds? Or just a jiggling of privates? Must it be nourished by trust, respect and friendship? Or can it survive despite abuse, indifference and degradation? And what is compromise? The normal give-and-take of a healthy relationship? Or the end of self?
Joanne met Arnie when she was 26 and he was 33. She fell in love. Their relationship wasn’t what she expected–weekends were his time to go drinking with his buddies–but she was in love and she was willing to compromise.
They got married after nine months and moved into an apartment in his parents’ home. Joanne was told to never expect a home of her own, a child or even a pet. Those were the things that were important to her and she would never have them.
“But I was in love and I was willing to compromise.”
Joanne taught school and worked on her master’s degree. In addition, she cooked, cleaned, baked, tended a garden, preserved fruits and vegetables, and sewed all her own clothes. But nothing was ever right.
“I was constantly criticized. His parents complained if I received a B in a course. If I got an A, they said it should have been an A-plus. I was told how to dress, fix my hair and what friends to invite over. I was verbally abused by his parents and physically abused by him, but for love, I compromised.”
Seven years into this marriage, Arnie was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. He decided he wanted a child, something to leave behind, but his doctor told him all he would be leaving behind was a pregnant widow. While this debate went on, Joanne was Arnie’s sole caregiver. It was exhausting, but his parents wouldn’t help because they blamed her for giving him cancer. It all fell on Joanne. Before they could decide the question of a child, Arnie was dead.
Joanne was, to tell the truth, relieved. She began going through his things– their things, she thought.
Think again.
He left everything to his parents. Even the savings bonds he had purchased during their marriage. His mother was the beneficiary.
A month after Arnie’s death, Joanne moved out of her in-law’s home. She moved into her own place and began to date. She met a divorced man her own age, 33. They went camping, they traveled, they had fun.
They dated for eight years and then, at 41, they married. They moved into their own home. At 43, Joanne gave birth to a healthy son. Today she is 59, she has a “wonderful” husband, a “great” 16-year-old honor student, a house and six assorted pets. All the things Arnie said she would never have.
She has been retired from teaching for seven years. She still gardens and puts up her own fruits and vegetables. But now, it is appreciated. And now, she doesn’t have to compromise. And now she knows what love really is.
Overheard
– “My husband’s greatest compliment is when he told me if I wasn’t going to be his bride, I could be his best man.”
– “If my life were a game show, it would be `Let’s Make a Deal.’ “
– “He didn’t want to have a romantic relationship with me; he wanted us to be professional friends. I didn’t get it. He was a security guard.”
– “She has what I look for in a mate: a sense of humor, a job and a pulse.”
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Have you ever “drunk dialed?” (Called someone when you were drunk that you wouldn’t have called if you were sober?) What happened? Send your tale to Cheryl Lavin, Tales From the Front, Chicago Tribune, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Include day and evening phone numbers. Letters may be used in whole or in part and become property of the column.
