Memoir

/ˈmemˌwär/ noun. a record of events written by a person having intimate knowledge of them and based on personal observation. Usually memoirs. an account of one's personal life and experiences; autobiography. the published record of the proceedings of a group or organization, as of a learned society.

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It's nearly week 29. Our parents, without them we literally would not even exist. Sometimes our parents give us valuable advantages in life through their lessons and sometimes we inherit from them a kind of psychological maze in which it's our job as adults to learn how to escape from. Each of these things are a lesson but some take more time than others to decipher. This prompt was particularly tough for me because it stirred up so many memories and a few words left unsaid but it's an important part of my story so I feel it's important to tell.

Memoir Monday has grown so much that I won’t be able to comment on everyone’s posts anymore (and get my own work done) but I’ll still be supporting your posts with reblogs, votes, and shares on my other social media accounts (X, Facebook, etc.).

For all of those who’ve regularly participated in Memoir Monday - keep going, you’re making great progress in chronicling your very own life story for future generations to enjoy.

For those who missed the inaugural post explaining what the Memoir Monday initiative is all about you can find it here.

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Now for next week’s Memoir Monday prompt:

How would you describe your parents' relationship?

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My answer:

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My parents’ relationship, like all relationships, was a mixture of good and bad. When they were younger, my dad was the somewhat stereotypical, “bad boy” and my mom was the reserved and well-behaved, “good Catholic girl”. Honestly, they couldn’t have come from worlds that were more different.

My dad could be outgoing, moody, and gregarious. My mom was quiet, steady, patient, and reserved. While it’s often true that opposites attract I think this can present its fair share of challenges as time goes on.

This picture was taken in a drug store photo booth on High St. in Columbus, Ohio while my parents were on a date in the mid-1960s.

My parents were married a full seven years before they had their first son (me) in 1971. My dad was five years older than my mom but had done a whole lot of living by the time they met. From the mid 1950’s through the early 1960’s he was in both the US Army and Air Force. After this he got married and settled down for a few years working as a firefighter and lumberjack in the Pacific Northwest. By that time dad had done a lot of traveling: criss-crossing America, hitchhiking, and occasionally even hopping freight trains.

My mom never lived on her own as an adult. She went straight from her parents’ house to living with my dad. I think by the time my dad met my mom he felt he was ready to settle down into a quiet life of stability and raise a few children. My mom brought that safety and stability to the relationship and I think my father brought strength, spontaneity, and excitement.

My dad had a very challenging childhood and because of this he had a lot of demons. This trauma was never addressed so it would manifest itself as depression and anger. My dad would go for weeks of being loving and fun but then suddenly his mood would turn dark and he would become somber, angry, and withdrawn. We were always left to figure out what caused this drastic change. It usually happened on the weekends after particularly stressful work weeks.

I grew up watching the quality of our family life and his marriage with my mom dependent upon what kind of mood my dad was in. My brother and I witnessed my mom keeping the family together when my father withdrew from us. Dad was the best person with a heart of gold, he never physically abused any of us but he would have outbursts where he slammed doors, threw things, and sometimes he would just get quiet and ignore us for days. Sometimes he would take off walking on foot and be gone for most of the day.

As tough of a situation as this was for us growing up, I don’t blame him for it and I know my mom doesn’t either. We all were familiar with my father's backstory. He lost his father when he was three years old and he and his older sister grew up in a series of foster homes where abuse and neglect was common.

My dad was just never taught to process any of those feelings. To be honest, it took a huge toll on us all as a family. I just wish therapy would have been more accepted in the lower middle-class during the 1970s. I often think about the hours, days, and years of good times we missed out on as a family because my dad was depressed and sleeping the day away or had left the house in a fit of rage. My mom was always left to stay home and take care of my brother and I.

My dad was a wonderful father in all other aspects, he was a good provider, he was present (when he wasn’t in a bad mood), and we did a lot together, and had great fun. But witnessing the dysfunction of my parents’ marriage affected both my brother and I deeply. As adults, I think it took us the first decade of our adult lives to overcome the trauma of it all. Both of us ended up getting in dysfunctional relationships ourselves, unconsciously repeating the cycle.

As my dad approached his mid-fifties he began taking antidepressants and his anger started to mellow. His outbursts became less frequent. My parents moved to Florida in 2003 and I think the abundance of sunshine there really helped to improve my dad’s mood but it never fully left him.

Photo from my brother Curt’s wedding in 2011.

As their lives progressed I think my mom became better at standing up for herself and both of them learned to communicate their feelings to each other. I think this helped their marriage tremendously. There’s zero doubt they loved and cared for each other through it all and they were both phenomenal parents in almost all aspects.

My parents in 2017 with our beagle, Amstel.

My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimers in 2017 and my mom cared for him until he passed away from Covid in 2020. His dementia was getting very advanced at the end. He would have good days and bad. Although he did a decent job of hiding it, during the bad days he was having hallucinations, seeing children who weren't there and long lost relatives. He didn't even know who my mom was some days but he got to spend his last years in his own home and my mom took amazing care of him through all of those ups and downs. They were together for over a half a century. The love they shared was deeper and even more apparent in those later years than it ever was before. Their relationship served as a good, and sometimes in the early years, a bad example to my brother and I about what a healthy marriage should look like.

I believe most of us humans do the best we can in the moment with the tools at our disposal and this is how I think of my parents' relationship. If we're lucky, I think all of us spend the first part of adulthood discovering our blind spots and healing from certain aspects of our childhood. Sometimes our parents provide us examples of what we should be and sometimes they provide us examples of behaviors that we shouldn't repeat and each of these are lessons. This is just a fact of life. My parents' story spanned over a half-century and, thankfully, consisted of many more good chapters than bad. We could all hope to be that lucky.

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Rules of Engagement

1. Please reblog this first post and share on other social platforms so we cast the widest net possible for this initiative;
2. Pictures paint a thousand words. Include pictures in your posts if you have them;
3. Answer each Memoir Monday prompt question in your own post. If possible, the prompt question will be published in the week prior so you'll have the entire week to answer and publish your own post;
4. Have fun with it, don't worry about getting behind, or jumping into the project at any point after we've begun; and
5. Lastly, be sure to include the tag #memoirmonday.

It's that simple.

At the end of the next twelve months we'll have created something immensely valuable together. It's so important to know our "whys" in life and there's no better way to do that than this.

Someday all that will be left of our existence are memories of us, our deeds, and words. It's up to you to leave as rich of a heritage as possible for future generations to learn from. So, go ahead, tell your stories. I can't wait to read them.

Be well and make the most of this day. I want to sincerely thank all of the participants thus far. I've really enjoyed reading your posts!

~Eric Vance Walton~

(All photos are original.)

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