The Right to Know

You’re not going to believe the story I’m about to tell you.

The other night I attended a barbeque and ran into a woman I hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“My son just got engaged,” she told me.

“Congratulations,” I said. “That’s terrific!”

“I guess,” she said. “I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend.”

If you’re the mother of a teenaged or adult son you know that while this may sound unlikely it can’t be dismissed as impossible.

Her son had spent his junior year of college studying abroad. During a vacation from his classes, he traveled throughout Europe and in Italy he met a young woman. He never mentioned her to his parents. When he returned home and resumed school in the States, he continued a relationship with the woman over Skype. Still no mention of her existence.

A year later he told his parents he was going to spend his spring break visiting friends in Europe. Friends plural – with no further identifying features.

Apparently, he saw the young woman and on the final day of his ten day trip, he proposed. Meanwhile, his parents still think he’s hanging out with a bunch of kids. He returns home, goes back to school, neglecting to mention he has a fiancée.

Weeks go by. His parents visit him at school. They spend the day walking around campus and then go out to dinner. Finally, he says, “By the way, I got engaged when I was in Europe and she’s at my apartment right now.” As the news settles in and their shock begins to lessen, they meet her. She’s lovely. They’re fine.

Should he have told them before? Yes. But more importantly, why didn’t his parents ask?

I’m not suggesting we ask for intimate details about a relationship, but we should ask our sons IF they are in a relationship or dating. And if they answer “Yes,” they should fill in some blanks: her name, age, hometown, occupation, appearance. If they want to withhold additional information until, and if, the relationship becomes serious, that is their prerogative.

But to be reluctant to ask our sons for fear of looking like we’re prying, is ridiculous.

When I asked the mom of this boy whether she had ever asked him if he was involved with someone, she felt he was entitled to his privacy.

All I could think of was when I began dating as a single mom. My children had no interest in details about the man, but they did want the basics, especially whether he had children. If I had chosen to keep my dating a secret from my kids – for whatever reason – and then one day announce: “By the way, I met someone and I’m getting married.” – my children would have been devastated.

No way is that fair to my kids.

And no way is that fair to a parent.

05
Jun
2010

Al and Tipper Gore – I Don't Get It

I’m a romantic. A hopeless romantic. So the news about Al and Tipper Gore separating after 40 years of marriage has left me feeling disenchanted, saddened and empty. Maybe I’m in denial or just blindly optimistic, but even with the dissolution of their marriage and the crushing divorces of so many others who cheated, or were cheated on, I still believe in the permanence of a relationship. Like I said, I’m a romantic. Hopelessly so.

I never had the experience of loving someone for decades. When my husband died I was only 38 and he was 42. I can tell you now that from the time I married him at the age of 23, I envisioned our being together forever. I couldn’t imagine I would ever love someone more than him.

I never had the good fortune of having my husband help me raise our children through all their traumas. I never got to see firsthand that adult relationships shift and turn, effected by circumstances and wisdom, and changes in taste. (I used to only drink coffee sweetened. Now, for some inexplicable reason, I like it with only a bit of cream.) I never considered that I could one day divorce a man that I had one day loved unequivocally.

But what do I know?

I ask that rhetorically.

I don’t know why the Gores’ seemingly picture-perfect marriage is dissolving. Like talk show hosts who have weighed in on the Gores’ private life, I can’t imagine that something or someone didn’t enter their marriage and cause it to implode. But then again, I need to think that. Otherwise I don’t understand.

It’s not that I don’t believe a marriage can simply crumble as it ages, like a wedge of long preserved cheese. It’s just that I haven’t had the privilege of experiencing that. My first marriage abruptly ended after 15 years. Would it have lasted another 50 or 60 years?

I’d like to think so.

But then I’m hopelessly romantic.

02
Jun
2010


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