I have offered you the story of my marriage in a previous blog. Now let me tell you about my divorce from Lou Affinito after 20 years of marriage and two children. Lou eventually married a lovely lady – a devout Roman Catholic – who was the perfect wife for him. Their marriage lasted some 35 years, terminated only by Lou’s death. And I went on being happily single, supported by my own income, the result of a career which gave me (still gives me) great joy.
It was 1976. I was free – I mean literally free – because the traditional – even Biblical – marriage defining wives as chattel had not been written into our constitution, though remnants of the attitude remained. The same brave women who survived ridicule and torture to gain the right to vote also worked to earn for women the right to their children. As long as wives were chattel, so were their children. Yes, chattel, property.
My mother was a young married woman with her first child when she was granted her voting rights. Not because the constitution was amended to limit her freedom, but because it was amended to guarantee her freedom.
Don’t misunderstand; the church did its best to enforce its limitations on women through the rule of law. There were remnants of the attitude in 1976. In some places, for example, married women could still not receive a library card in their own name.
The idea of women owning their own homes was seen by some as a bit ludicrous, if not disgusting. The first Real Estate agent I worked with showed me a series of very sorry examples of houses. When I told him I was looking for something nicer, he told me this was the best I could expect as a woman looking to purchase on my own. Fortunately he was a bit of a dinosaur. Women were just discovering Real Estate as an occupation that fit their needs and at which they excelled. With the help of a very patient lady I eventually found the right place for me.
Most of the stores to which I applied were willing to give me credit accounts in my own name. The one exception I remember was J.C. Penney which insisted I had to remain under my husband’s name. In all the years since, I have bought only one item at J.C. Penney. By the way, as far as I recall, there were no general credit cards like Visa and American Express.
Knowing the importance of the church to Lou, I offered to cooperate with him in the process of getting an annulment. After a few years he did request my help. The archdiocese, recognizing that I was not a Catholic, sent me a very courteous letter asking whether I’d be wiling to cooperate. They assured me that an annulment would in no way affect the legitimacy of our children. Even the church understood the difference between church law and civil law. Someday I may share the story publicly. Anyway, Lou was granted the annulment.
Have I made my point? The same Biblical references that define what some people are calling traditional marriage also defined women as chattel. I even made it part of the fictional story of Mrs. Job. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if that definition had been written into our constitution.
There is one story you might find interesting. It makes no point except to amuse. In 1982 when I was buying a different home (with the help of the same lovely Real Estate Lady) the potential lender required a copy of my divorce decree. With perfect confidence I headed to my locked, fireproof file. I couldn’t find it. Searching under “D” for divorce, and “D” for decree, then under “M” for marriage, I came up empty handed. So, in somewhat of a panic, I called City Hall for a copy. They reported there was no such decree on file. Was I sure about where I’d been living when I got divorced? Yes, I was. Then on the other end of the phone I heard, “Oh, I think I just saw it. Let me look.” Back she came to report that it was in a drawer of materials about to be discarded. It was never filed. “Oh, I giggled, does that mean Lou is a bigamist?” No, it didn’t mean that, but Lou and I each had to contact our lawyers to get them to finish their job.
Well, maybe there is a point in that last story. Might it be called “Much ado about nothing?” Well, not really. My mortgage loan depended on that piece of paper.
On this date in 1955 Lou Affinito (Roman Catholic) and I (Lutheran) were married on a beautiful, warm, color-filled Fall day in Winooski, Vermont. To arrive at that point, we had to jump through three hoops. (1) Civil permission to marry; (2) Religious obstructions; (3 Emotional/attitudinal barriers.
The first of these was the easiest. It required a 9-hour drive from my home in Connecticut to Vermont. There we had to swear neither of us had been married before and prove, as I recall, that neither of us had a venereal disease. I guess they wanted to be sure we didn’t infect each other on our wedding night when we would have intercourse for the first time. (How quaint.) We were both unencumbered and pure and received the license (i.e. civil permission) to marry. In retrospect, I guess the purpose was to guarantee certain rights, like the right to inheritance. With license in hand, we could have been married anywhere. It had nothing to do with religion.
But then there was the second hoop to jump through – religious requirements. It was related to the third hoop, but I’ll separate them out and talk here only about the religious stuff. I completed six weeks, as I recall, of indoctrination into the Catholic faith. (They had a nicer word for it, but I can’t remember right now what it was.) I was fortunate to do the training with a bright and pleasant young chaplain at the Bishop deGoesbriand hospital in Burlington, Vermont, where I was teaching at the University. (I tried googling it to be sure of the spelling, but apparently it is no longer there – probably swallowed up by another institution.) I think the instructor’s title was Father Michael, but I wouldn’t swear to it in a court of law. Anyway, he told me that the sacraments of the Greek Orthodox church were recognized by the Catholic Church, so it was a place for us to have our marriage sealed in a way acceptable to the church if all else failed. Something about the schism having been incomplete.
Having passed that hurdle, we had the next impediment to overcome. The Catholic Church required we should be married in a parish where one of us had at least two years residence. For reasons to be elucidated in the description of hurdle #3, we could not comfortably choose to be married either in Lou’s hometown or mine. But we had signed a two-year lease in Boston where I would be attending a PhD program at Boston University.
So we visited a priest in the parish where our apartment was located, asking him to count that lease as a two-year residence. “How long have you been sleeping together?” he asked, and I flounced out of his office, saying, “OK. We’re getting married in the Greek Orthodox Church.” Lou didn’t much like that idea, so he suggested we try the Burlington, Vermont area where we had both been living (separately) for two years. So, another trip to Vermont. Thank goodness – or maybe even God – for father Boucher, an Instructor at St. Michaels’ college, Lou’s Alma Mater, who agreed to perform the ceremony in the Winooski Church.
But wait, it had not all been accomplished. We still needed priestly permission — a kind of church license, I guess — before we could exchange vows. In the office of a priest in New Haven (Lou’s hometown) we made our promises while Father what’s-his-name focused on the ball game he was watching. Yes, we would raise the children Catholic. Yes, Lou agreed enthusiastically, he would try to convert me. Yes, we both agreed — my fingers crossed behind my back — we would use no artificial birth control.
Now we were prepared to move on to obstacle #3 – emotion/attitude. My future in-laws were delighted with Lou’s choice, but, not surprisingly, my parents weren’t at all happy, and I was fading away with stress-based weight loss. They were very practical, forgiving folks, however, so they joined in the plans – already made except for purchasing a gown, with the date set for three weeks away. I’ll summarize the whole thing with a photo of my wedding hat.
My future mother-in-law refused to attend the wedding if I didn’t wear a veil, and my mother refused to come if I did. We were all being very cooperative, including me, so I asked the milliner (Yup, a person who made a living making hats) to make me a hat with something that would look like a veil to my mother-in-law and not like a veil to my mother. She came up with a lovely creation with a veil in the back, almost to my waist. “Oh, I said, I think my mother will call that a veil.” Disgusted, the milliner took scissors to it, and what resulted was a short thing that stuck out as if it were, oh, I don’t know what. I hope I manage to upload the photo so you can see for yourself. 
.
And so we were married on a beautiful autumn day at St. Stephen’s Catholic Church in Winooski, Vermont. There are 23 people in the photo of our entire wedding party and guests. Seven of us are still living.
No, I’m not taking you on our honeymoon with us.
So, what’s the point of the story? Change! Ours was a scene-making mixed marriage. I challenge you to play a kind of “Finding Waldo” game searching for what’s old-fashioned and outdated in this story.
So, why my question? Why would you vote “yes” for a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage. One thing that remains the same is the fact that a civil license to marry conveys nothing but civil rights. It has nothing to do with religion. Or does it? Is that one of the goals, to modify the separation of church and state? Or is it the first step in a prohibition-like era where there will be a squad designated to search out people illegally living as if they are married?
My question is serious. Why vote “yes? The commercials I see all focus on religious definitions of marriage. But what does banning specific civil rights have to do with it?
Of one thing I’m sure, no law or constitutional amendment will prevent people from falling in love. I remember how it felt falling in love with Lou. People tried to stop us, but it overwhelmed us.
I am equally sure that, if the amendment passes, the day is not far off when it seems as inappropriate and old-fashioned as some of what we went through on the route to our wedding. Or maybe even the prohibition amendment.
Thanks for listening, and responding ..
It was a white leather-look jacket that drew me into the Christian based clothing store in town. “Hello, how are you?” the proprietor asked. “I’m fine,” I said, how are you doing? “Very well, he answered.” “Good,” I said. “That’s what you want when you’re in business.” “Obama says I didn’t do it myself,” he said. “He’s absolutely right,” I responded. “For example, your customers were able to get here because of the public roads and sidewalks, and the lights to see their way by.” That pretty much ended our conversation, but not my thoughts. Without public highways and roads, his business would have been extremely difficulty to maintain – if not impossible. And what of the harbors and ports maintained by the public by which he received shipments of his products. Or trade agreements with the countries who created the goods he bought … Oh, I think it’s a good bet he borrowed money somewhere along the way, or at least uses banks insured by FDIC. I’ll bet, too, that he relies on the postal service to some extent. And I assume he has a lavatory somewhere in the store, with efficient sewage disposal and safe running water in the sink for drinking. Given that his business is Christian-based, I’m pretty sure his beliefs and subsequent business choice depend upon experiences with others who set him an example and standard. Most likely his church had a guaranteed mortgage at one point. If not, it depended on the community getting together to support it.
It’s not all public funds that support his business. What of all the stores around him, helping to bring in business, and the newspapers that make it possible to advertise his wares. Then there’s all the support those other businesses receive from public funds. Just as his customers probably work for, have been employed by, companies who have relied on the public infrastructure for their success.
But let me get away from his situation and into mine. It is true that my parents saved for my college education – for which I feel tremendous gratitude. My college was supported – like basically all institutions of higher education, by endowments. And I probably would not have been admitted to my college had it not been for an excellent public education at all levels through secondary school. Then my graduate degrees. Yes. I worked very hard for them, but those institutions as well relied not only on endowments, but also on grants, many of which came from public funds. The very research that contributed to knowledge in my field depended largely on NSF grants. I can’t forget, as well, that my entire career as a professor was at institutions supported by public funds.
Yes, I can be proud of what I’ve accomplished, as can the proprietor of the store with the white leather-like jacket. But the pride has to be tempered by gratitude for all who have helped me – us- along the way.
“No man (woman) is an island.”
By the way, I didn’t try on the white jacket, much as I would have liked to. I just couldn’t afford it, even though it was worth the price. I hope others are grateful for whatever made it possible for them to try and buy. And I’m happy for the proprietor’s success. I want that store to be there for a long time to please me when I walk by, and occasionally buy.
I promised some photos of the Ireland trip. Just please be mindful that I’m an amateur with a shoot and click camera. I do have more, but I need to finish up now because my cable connection is being installed. Hurray!
A long, powerful, beautiful, and hopeful thought for the day. This is what we need in these terribly troubled times, a story of reconciliation of the sons of Abraham. ben-ghazi-yom-kippur.
I promise, more Ireland photos to come, but some things are more urgent.
From lush green nourished by a summer of rainfall to the heights of the Cliffs at Moher to the depths of a cave carved by ancient waters to barren land strewn with glacial rock deposits, the senses were caressed with calming gratification. One week in Ireland was not enough.
Either we were very lucky, or we brought with us the gift of sunshine to folks longing for an end to the rain. Whatever the reason, we enjoyed perfect temperatures in the 60s and 70s. And relaxation. I’ve come to realize that there are three factors that make traveling so restorative.
1) We leave behind the stress of daily negative news. (I learned in a course in journalism that good news doesn’t sell.)
2) The people tourists meet are all employed, resonating contentment.
3) While the news of joblessness in Ireland, as elsewhere, is tragic, we can take in the information without the pressure to feel responsible for casting and/or encouraging the corrective vote.
Our excursion guide was about the best we’ve every experienced, informative, fun, filled with enlightening stories about the country – the kind one might get sitting at the kitchen table over a cup of coffee.
We were directed to restaurants and pubs where we enjoyed delicious food – always accompanied by potatoes in at least one form. Yes, Gordon, I did have a glass of Guinness or two. And music, classical Irish and traditional.
The economic news was not good, reminding me, as always, of my gratitude that I can travel and enjoy such happy experiences. My joy would be complete if I knew such pleasurable calm were the world’s norm.
Mostly, it’s true what they say. Ireland is a wonderful place to visit.
I haven’t had time to download my photos. Eventually I’ll have something to post here.
I’m thinking of reviving this topic which at one point was a hit in Connecticut — bumper stickers, T-shirts, and all.
Now I’m looking for reactions. I’m going to leave this post up for a while, hoping lots of you will respond telling me what it means to you. That will help me know whether I should revive it, and if so what can I expect it will mean to you.
In other words, I’m looking for advice.
The expression “just a theory” gives me chills. It implies that whatever is being referred to is just some off the top of the head conjecture. As a matter of fact, for scientists, the term “theory” is an honorific applied only to a well verified collection of data which lead to further exploration and experimentation. The only superior term for scientists is “law,” as in Newton’s Law of Gravity. The most important thing about the word “law” is that it leads to further testing and further discoveries which might lead to modification of the original law while adding to new knowledge. The same is true for theory. Theory and Law are the strongest bases for using our God-given intellect and curiosity to learn ever more about God’s creation.
Personally, I have a hard time with the belief that we should somehow ignore that major part of who we are. As in the story of Job, we overstep our bounds when we decide we know more than the creator and should stop at some human-defined doorway and go no further in learning about the gift of the universe.
Maybe it’s better said by the United States National Academy of Sciences.
“Some scientific explanations are so well established that no new evidence is likely to alter them. The explanation becomes a scientific theory. In everyday language a theory means a hunch or speculation. Not so in science. In science,the word theory refers to a comprehensive explanation of an important feature of nature that is supported by many facts gathered over time. Theories also allow scientists to make predictions about as yet unobserved phenomena.”
Theory, as in the theory of evolution, depends on the glorious gift of curiosity, exploration, and understanding with which humans have been endowed.
Or maybe Bill Nye the Science Guy, says it better.
monagustafsonaffinito 