And from the beginning...

Childhood choices

          From the day of our birth until we are mature enough to make all of our own adult decisions, our adult lives have been influenced by decisions made for us by our parents, our teachers and even the laws of the land.  Yet, the skill of decision making begins in our “tender years”; we observe and learn through experiences that bring us to conclusions that affect us in adulthood.

          My long-term singleness as an adult was created by what I learned by watching my parents, our family experiences and even listening to what other people said when I was a child.

          It was November 1958.  As an Air Force family, my parents and older (half) brother were moving house, as Dad was to begin a new training assignment.  Between Shepherd Air Force, near Wichita Falls, Texas to Travis Air Force Base, near Fairfield, California lies over 1,600 miles. 

  

        The Air Force was responsible for moving the household furniture; the only thing in the car was the family of three and luggage for clothing.

          Other men from Dad’s unit, including good friend, Alan Balance, had been transferred to Travis AFB as well as my Dad.  He and his wife, Joanne, made arrangements to travel in tandem with my parents; driving cross country with another family meant mutual support for both families should a troublesome situation arise. When the need for stopping arose, they would signal by flashing headlights.

The two cars followed the blacktop across the panhandle of Texas, the plains and into the mountains of New Mexico, through the dessert of Arizona, up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California.  About eighty-percent of the distance to their new home had been covered. 

          My mother was about eight and a half months pregnant with me.  She’d been instructed to lay down in the back of the family estate car (station wagon) the whole trip.  But, she was too curious about the landscape of the Great American West, and sat up.  She’d always wanted to see California, having grown up in the Midwest.  The journey was through states she’d never seen before—she didn’t want to miss it. 

But the trip was taking its toll on Mom; exhausted and uncomfortable, she began spotting blood.  Dad flashed his car headlights to signal the other family over.  When they discussed the issue, my parents learned that Barbara Balance’s sister lived in Bakersfield, California.  Finding a payphone, Barbara called her sister.  The sister told them to make their way to Bakersfield.  Once there, they took my Mom to Mercy Hospital.

After examining my Mom, the doctor, (a Catholic nun), informed my Mom that she had two choices:  1) remain in hospital until the due date.  2) induce labour, as she was sure the baby was developed sufficiently to have a healthy birth.

Now, seeing as how waiting for natural labour could be two or even three weeks, and my father had to report for duty at the new base within the next day or two, it was decided that Mom would have labour induced.  I was born at 5.12 pm, on Wednesday, 19^th November 1958 in a Catholic hospital.

My father’s military career affected the timing of my birth.  His military career also created in me a desire to travel and experience different cultures, different countries and even different kinds of work.

Dad actually worked two jobs while he served in the Air Force.  During the week he was a parachute packer, working on base.  On Saturdays he worked as a barber.  He was very good with his hands.

In my teens I did not trust that I could find another person who would share my love of travel.  My concern was that if I got married young, the children would come along quickly and there would never be enough money or time to travel, to see England and parts of Europe. 

Both of my parents had been married to other people and divorced.  They were in their early 30’s when they met and married.  Dad was 35 when I was born and Mom was 32.  In my mind I didn’t need to worry about having children in my late teens and twenties, because Mom had children in her thirties. 

Knowing a bit about both of my parent’s stories led me to conclude that by getting married young, one could marry the wrong person. 

In my mind, getting married when I was about twenty-seven seemed wise and highly desirable.  Only, I lived through my late twenties, my thirties and into my forties before the desire to married was fulfilled. 

It is very likely that I needed those extra years to learn all the lessons I needed to learn before I could have the marriage of which I always dreamed.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”