Over the phone, I interviewed my mother and father about their wedding day in 1962. I had found two wedding photos and sought the story of that moment in their lives. Though they could not have seen it clearly at the time, the aftermath of their marriage was already present.


(Interview with my father.)


I want to interview you about your wedding.

You want to do that?

Yes.

Okay, go.

I didn’t make any formal questions, but –

Oh, by the way, what does a lesbian bring to the second date?

I don’t know – what?

Her suitcase.

I don’t get it.

Lesbians are supposed to have much more lasting relationships.

Is that a therapist in-joke?

It’s a gay in-joke. What does a gay male bring to a second date?

What?

What date? Anybody who’s gay – tell them that.

My father says you’ll like this joke. . . .Did a client tell you that joke?

Yeah. The first one, I heard from a gay professor teaching us about diversity.

At Temple?

Yeah – not synagogue.

I told Chico this evening that he’s dirty like ham, dirty like milk and meat.

Really. How come?

Because he’s a dirty little dog, he pees on his own feet.

Oh, my goodness.

But he doesn’t have any Jewish in him – he didn’t understand the reference.

I do, I got it.

I know you do, that’s why I told you.

Anyhow, what questions are you going to ask me?

Well, do you remember your wedding day?

Sure.

Do you remember getting up that day? Just describe the day. Where did you spend the night, where did you wake up that day, do you remember?

I woke up at the apartment. I think your mom – I think your mom was some place else. We were living together.

Oh, you were. You did have an apartment? You were living in sin.

Actually, we got the apartment about a month or two ahead of time, and so we were
living together. I’d moved out of my, uh, uh, roommate’s apartment and your mother and I lived together, just because we had the apartment.

Yes. Down in the Village?

Yeah, Washington Place.

I guess I got dressed the next morning. And, and we all went down to the court house. We were married by a criminal courts judge. The building that you see when you look at, um, “Night Court”, on, on –

Right, on television.

Hunh?

On TV, “Night Court”, the TV show.

Yep. Lower Manhattan. And my best man, Ray Hirsch, who I don’t speak to anymore, uh. . .

Until I found the wedding pictures, I’d never heard his name.

No, no, we never mentioned it again. He really became – both mom and I got really tired of him.

How so?

Well, he was really a nudge. He was always a nudge. He sort of set himself upon me in college and I don’t know why I really had him as best man. I guess I didn’t really have any close friends like I do now or a little later.

He was probably appropriate, right?

What do you mean?

Well-presented. He fit the role of best man.

The people I really liked weren’t around at the time. Howie and Marshall, twin brothers, your mother and I loved them a lot. Marshall died when I was about 40.

Oh, really?

And my roommate wasn’t around, either, Jim Duffy. He died when I was 28.

How did he die?

He died of cancer. Both died of cancer.

But she didn’t spend the night before her wedding there?

Not before her wedding night, but we were together our wedding night, of course.

Yes.

[Eating] And, uh –

How’s that corn?

The night before, I think she was with her mom. I don’t know where the hell she was the night before. We had spent a number of nights there. Because we were born – when were we born? We probably took possession on July 30th.

You were saying when were you married – you said “born” instead of “married”?

Right.

Excellent. We could spend months on that.

Okay, mom – whoever you are. So, anyhow. How’s these eggs doing? Okay, so, the night before there was a bachelor party. Well, there was a party. And it was your great uncle Howard, he and Vince. Was Vince around? No, Vince wasn’t around at that point. But Didi came from Philadelphia and I guess your great aunt and uncle, Howard and Lillian, the two grandmothers. . . .

Howard Heath?

Howard Heath, that’s right, that’s right. And, over at – Didi didn’t know, Didi didn’t know Vince yet.

Right, okay.

So there was, like, over there was a hotel at 42nd and the river, where everybody was staying. Which I don’t really think’s a hotel anymore. It might be – I don’t know. But, anyhow, we all got together there. And had our drinks before that night. The whole thing. I think your mother may have stayed at the hotel that night, or something, I’m not really sure.

You stayed in the apartment.

I stayed in the apartment.

Ah. . . .So, you remember getting up, you remember getting dressed. Do you remember what you wore?

Yeah, I wore a blue suit. And we all went down to the criminal courts building, there were like 13 in the party.

When did your mom come in?

My mom was in the night before. They were all staying at that hotel. And we went there, I guess we were married about one o’clock in the afternoon. Something like that. And, of course, we had opted, instead of having a big wedding, to go to Europe.

Right.

The highlight for both of us – the wedding was great and it was nice to get married – but the big thing would be traveling in Europe.

That’s what you really enjoyed?

Yeah. Yeah. So we went down to the criminal courts building, Didi, your mother and I, my mother and Maggie, my mom’s maid. A wonderful woman.

She’s the only black woman in the photos.

That’s right. And there was Irv Mennen. He might even still be alive. I saw him a couple of years ago. That’s that man. He was an old friend of my dad’s. My dad and my mother. There’s Jo and Fred Stahl. My mother’s first cousin, Jo was, by marriage, and Fred was President of Standard and Poor’s, Head of Standard and Poor’s. I worked there.

Okay.

Ray and Lillian – who the hell was there? Lillian and, uh, Howard. Does that come to 13? Oh, and my grandmother.

Oh, Jean. Jean, lurking in the background.

Oh, I remember. We went down there and the judge – he was a middle-aged Jewish guy, probably younger than me now, but he looked like an old man. He really had a thing for Didi. Couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of my aunt? Oh, I forgot, he wasn’t a priest.

No, no.

Well, it’s funny, because in one of the photographs where you were – I want to say being sworn in – but, exchanging vows, mom looks like she’s been caught in the headlights, you look like your suit’s a little tight, Ray Hirsch looks like he always smiles, all the time, but Didi is beaming at the judge. Just beaming. You can’t tell why she’s enjoying herself so much.

But, I don’t think she was interested in him –

Oh, no. The whole thing looks like she’s getting a kick out of it.

One thing I remember, my mother said – I think I had a pimple – she said that my complexion would get better now.

Meaning?

Meaning that sex takes care of the complexion.

Now that you were married, you could start having sex and that would clear up your complexion?

Right.

Excellent.

Excellent. So, anyhow, after that’s all over – it’s a short ceremony – we all go off to the Yale Club.

Okay.

I was a member and Fred Stahl takes us there for the reception – that’s what we did.

Got it.

And that’s what we did. Then, your mom and I left them and came back to the apartment. And then the next morning we went off to Europe.

Excellent.

And your mom was not happy with me because, on the wedding night, I was too busy getting everything arranged to go on the trip the night before.

So, you weren’t really –

I was at my desk working.

You were not! Your wedding night, you’re at the desk, working?

I had to get our passports ready and all that.

And that upset her?

Yeah, yeah, and I didn’t, I didn’t – I feel badly now when I look back on it. I didn’t realize – I mean we were sleeping together. To me, it was just another night, sort of. I think she was very sensitive about that. I understand that now.

You understand that you were a schmuck?

[Laughing] I do, I do.

So then the next day you went to Europe?

Yeah. The next morning there was a cab waiting, and we were whisked off to Europe. A TWA plane to Paris. . .what more do you need to know?

About your wedding day?

Yeah.

Well, anything about your marriage?

Anything about what?

Do you see your wedding day as part of your marriage. Or is it set in a different place? Do you see it as the day you got married – and then your honeymoon – as a progression into your marriage. . . .

We were already very much together; it was almost like sealing it.

When you got married?

Yeah. We were so modern – we’d been living together already.

It’s so funny, because mom is really actually so old-fashioned – to think that she was “hip” then, you know. . . .

Those girls, they were pretty hip. Bobbi Queen –

Bobbi!

I mean your mother was much more conventional than Bobbi, but they were pretty with it girls.

Yeah. . . .Why’d you like mom? Do you remember? Do you remember why you liked mom?

Yeah. She was a regular guy.

Yeah?

She had a great personality, sense of humor. And we liked each other a lot.

Yeah.

You know?

Yeah.

That’s what’s most important.



(Interview with my mother.)


Do you remember your wedding day?

Yes.

Do you remember getting up?

On my wedding day?

Un-huh.

I do.

And how did you feel?

I felt disappointed.

Really? Do you remember your morning at all?

No, I can’t remember the morning.

Did you feel disappointed before your wedding morning? Had you been feeling disappointed?

No, I had been. . .

Because Bobbi talks about you sitting on the steps of the Met –

Right. A friend, I think it was Karen Gross, had asked me how I knew I was doing the
right thing.

Getting married?

Getting married to the person I was getting married to. Bernie. I said I had no idea. And I was very upset. That should have been a clue to me, but I didn’t take it as such.

How old were you?

Twenty-one.

How long before your wedding was that question asked of you?

Maybe two or three months. I got married in August.

August what?

Tenth.

Were you working? Were you still in school?

I had just finished school and I hadn’t started working yet. Your dad and I went to Europe for a month and after that, I started working.

How long before you were married did Dad ask you to marry him?

He asked me in November and we were married in August.

Did you say yes right away?

Uh-huh.

You did? Where were you?

We were walking on Park Avenue, towards downtown. Maybe in the thirties.

What time of day was it?

It wasn’t the early part of the day. It was either late afternoon or early evening.

Were you headed somewhere?

Must have been, but I can’t remember where.

Did you tell your mom right away?

I don’t think so.

No? Did it just sort of evaporate, November to August?

Did what evaporate, the time?

Yeah.

I’ll tell you the truth. I was sort of off balance then. The first year in New York I was very together, very balanced, well. And then I met your father and I never, for years, connected the two, but I think they were very connected. I was already in the wrong place. I shouldn’t have married Dad.

When I met him and started to date him and to see him, it knocked me off balance. But I didn’t make that connection then. But in retrospect, I think it was very connected.

I wonder why it’s so hard just to acknowledge when you’re so unhappy. And to stop. And to try to figure out what’s making you unhappy and to do something about it instead of just pushing through it.

It is hard, isn’t it?

Well, it shouldn’t be hard.

No. To ask, what’s the problem here?

Or even to realize that you’re unhappy.

I think I thought that he was very handsome and that he was a good catch, so to speak, and that was a time when it was very important to marry, not just fall in love or spend time with someone, but to marry. It had all sorts of attachments.

What were those attachments?

I think they had to do with my self-affirmation, my security as a woman. And the other thing is that your father was rather prominent, if I could put it that way. He came from a prominent family in Philadelphia, he was well placed professionally. And none of those are good reasons.

We didn’t have the same – when things got hard, we didn’t fall back on the same references.

Where did you fall, and where did he fall?

You know, I’ve asked myself that question, actually and, uh. . . .

Well, where did you at that time fall, when you were up against hard times?

Well, two things. One, we didn’t fall back on the same things, meaning that we didn’t share either religion or a philosophical view of the world. And absent that, if would have been ideal if, as part of falling back, I could have fallen back on him.

Uh-huh.

But that wasn’t possible. So it took me away from him and away from the marriage and into a different –

Why wasn’t it possible to fall back on Dad?

He wasn’t there to fall on.

What was he doing? What was he falling back on?

I think he was afraid.

How did that manifest?

Anxiety, self-absorption. A lot of self-centered concerns. Looking for assurances.

Had you had a bad time before you got married?

No, but there were all sorts of warnings that, were I wiser and abler and less frightened myself, I would have seen.

Can you remember any of them?

Uh-huh. One of them was that he didn’t have enough money to buy a wedding suit. And he was working.

Why couldn’t he come up with the money for his suit? You mean, he had the money and just couldn’t come up with it?

I don’t know, but when I look at it now, it is a perplexing thing to be working and have money and yet never to have any money. I’ve seen that in myself.

Where do you think his money was going?

It was mismanagement. Too many dinners out, too many expenditures that always kept him on the short side.

So, to not have enough money for your wedding suit means what?

Well, either you’re not a good planner or you’re potentially not a good provider.

You didn’t take it as a sign that the wedding wasn’t that important?

No, I didn’t take it that way. I think he definitely wanted to get married.

How old was Dad when you got married?

I was 21 and he was 25.

Had you met his mom?

Yes.

Before he had asked you to marry him?

Uh-huh.

And did she say anything to you once you were engaged? Did anybody say anything to you?

I think that she was very nice. I think she tried to do things more than my mother, in a very traditionally nice way. I don’t remember a wedding shower. But Bert was very nice. She made sure all of her friends sent us wedding presents.

Right.

She was nice to me, very nice.

Did you have a relationship with each other?

I liked Bert, Sometime she was very irritating and hard to get along with, sometimes she drank too much, or didn’t think very thoroughly about things, so conversation wasn’t always so easy with her, but the general ambiance of her was very, very nice.

And what about Nanny, what about your mom?

In relation to getting married?

Yes. And to you.

I think she was pleased. I don’t think she ever – I think she liked Bernie.

What did she think of him?

I remember her first impression was that he talked a lot. I don’t know why she told me that – you know what I mean?

Yeah. Bitchy.

Yeah, but I think she was in favor of the marriage. She certainly didn’t want me to get a divorce.

She was against your divorce?

Yes.

Did Mom-Mom ever say anything about your divorce?

No.

And did you ever talk t her after your divorce?

Not in any serious way.

Had you talked in any serious way before?

Not really.

Okay, so. . . .

Uh-huh. Everything with Mom-Mom eventually went to who do you know and how much do you have? So we never could really bridge to anything else.

How did you feel on your wedding day after you were disappointed? Where did you wake up?

In our apartment, on Washington Place.

You and dad were already living together?

No. No. We had taken this apartment. I cried my whole wedding night.

Really?

Yeah.

Did anybody know you were crying?

Your father knew.

You cried the whole night?

Just about the whole night. He couldn’t understand what the problem was, I certainly couldn’t explain what the problem was. I really didn’t know.

Do you know now?

I had simply made the biggest mistake of my life. But I didn’t know that at the time. I thought it was just the change. I felt very lonely. Which you shouldn’t feel on your wedding night.

No, you shouldn’t.

And the next morning we went to Europe. Which was fun. I must say, that was fun.

That month was fun?

Yes, it was fun to travel. And Dad’s fun to travel with because he always meets people, finds out where the best food is, the best shopping. You know. He bought me the right things in the right places - fragrance in Paris, something very Italian in Italy, can’t remember now what it was, not pasta – I can’t remember.

But it was all very proper.

It was all very nice. He had a good travel agent who planned a great trip, just the kind of trip we wanted. We stayed in modest places that had character. A lot of driving, which I enjoyed and he enjoyed and it was just very, very nice. We went to Switzerland, France, and Italy, which was just enough. We weren’t rushed.

Weren’t you in Ireland?

That was later.

And when you came back, how was your life different?

It was completely different. We lived in the Village and I went to work at Abraham & Straus, which was a very, very stressful job.

So you left school when you got married?

Uh-huh.

Three years later you went back to school?

Yes. But those three years were very hellish –

The ones at Abraham & Straus?

Yes, it was a stressful job, very stressful, very long hours, and a lot of pressure to perform and I was used to that, so I just took it all on.

What do you mean, you were used to that?

I mean that I was used to being under the rock, I guess.

Where had you been under the rock?

Well, I could never measure up for my father, my mother was always drunk. You know
what I’m saying?

Yes.

It was a state of existence that was customary. So when I look at it, it’s not surprising to me that I put myself in a very – or that I allowed myself to be, or that I took in such a way that I was – I don’t think everyone in my job at A&S was as stressed as I was, but not everyone had my particular boss. Someone else could have completely different in that job. But it was a lot of stress and a lot of work. So the decision to go to Pratt was a major thing. But it was like I just got my head above the water line for a minute, because then we moved to Rochester.

You left Pratt, you left art school. And went to Rochester. Because Dad – tell me why again?

Dad didn’t want to go to Vietnam. Which was fine. But he should have encouraged me to go to a new school.

You mean he should have helped you to be happy since you were moving for him?

Well, even if I wasn’t, he should have given me a helping hand, I think. I gave him many helping hands.

How? What were the helping hands?

Oh my gosh, I practically wrote his whole Master’s thesis.

Really?

Yes. He couldn’t. He was just paralyzed. I don’t know what the problem was. I remember sitting in that – we had a library, a study in the apartment in Rochester, and I remember day after day, night after night, weekend after weekend, making him write. I couldn’t stand to hear anymore how he couldn’t write it. It was always his job, what he was doing, which way did his desk face – as a matter of his prestige – people at certain levels had desks in this or that position.

It wasn’t sort of procrastinatory?

No, no, it wasn’t that. It was all, where am I? I have to say, truly, that his preoccupation with position and placement I shared or I would never have married him. That was largely the attraction – position and placement.

Right.

Plus, I didn’t have to face my fears. Like my fears about my womanhood. In the marriage, I could just move along without any threat.

What do you mean, any threat?

He didn’t ask more of me than I was willing to give. He didn’t ask to see more than I was willing to show.

Of who you are?

Uh-huh. So there was a great deal of comfort. But, given my inability to ever please my father, it’s very understandable that I would have great insecurities in this area.

Uh-huh.

You know what I’m saying?

Uh-huh.

Then there’s the flip side to not being sought.

Uh-huh.

Or, not having to show up, in a marriage.

The flip side being you don’t have a relationship? You don’t have a marriage?

Right. Are you still there?

I am.

You know, seeing your father this summer made me ask very serious questions about myself. Because what I noticed about him is that he’s still - and I’m not saying this critically because it made me realize that I do exactly the same thing – that he still has very pivotal questions around which he is still dancing forty years later.

By dancing, do you mean avoiding?

No. He’s paying homage to the same questions, the same issues, the same concerns, same fears, same worries, same investment in himself. Even though he’s changed.

Yeah.

So, I really looked at myself. What are the thoughts you’re still asking, dances you’re still doing, the homage you’re still paying to shadows in the closet – they keep you locked in the same place. You have a circle drawn around your world, too.

This is what you were saying to yourself?

Uh-huh. Look at them. Don’t just let them be unconsciously unfolding and all of a sudden you’re gone and what happened? So it was very helpful to see that. The observation of him wasn’t a critical one, it was a very illuminating moment to realize that, I think, the limits are imagined, they’re accepted, they’re not real.

What kind of limits do you mean?

Limits in terms of what we can do, in terms of our vision, limits in terms of our thinking, I can or I can’t or I would never –

But what? I would never what? Don’t you think there are some limits that are legitimate?

Oh, yeah.

So, how do you differentiate between the limits that are and are not? The ones you impose on yourself and the ones that are there and you need to confront?

Uh, my point reference in my head, 9 times out of 10 when I see what I’m thinking, is how am I doing? That’s my point of reference, 9 times out of 10. How am I doing, how do I look, how am I walking, how am I speaking, how am I doing? That keeps me assessing, always self-assessing. That keeps me away from any kind of relationship, whether it’s Micky, whether it’s with you, whether it’s with the person behind me in the metro station, people in my office.

What do you think it is for dad?

Oh, I think it’s very similar. I think it’s been wisely said somewhere that our weaknesses, our correspondence to weaknesses – even though it’s a neurotic relationship, it often makes for one.

Wait, say that again.

That mutual weaknesses, even though they make for a neurotic relationship, often make for a relationship.