Disappointing Disappointment

It is early 1920s, and because of the absence of TV, the evening news, talk shows, and Facebook, the delayed after-effects of 1914-1918's World War I are slowly beginning to be felt. The war plus the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic took many soldiers' lives. September 28, 1918, Philadelphia held a grand parade, to sell war bonds. With people packed tightly on the streets. That parade helped the flu to spread in Philly, like wildfire. Hospital beds were overflowing, and people were dying in the streets. 

Widow Cora heard what the pandemic could do, and acted accordingly. Husband Elias died in 1905, when Daughter Iva was just 8 years old. Now-20-Something Iva was asked to stay safe at home, away from germs, during her prime marrying years. The war's after-effects with the flu's scare lasted for what seemed like an eternity. 

Bachelors in small towns were scarce. Red-head, 23-year-old, tall and somewhat scrawny yet agreeably charming George is one of the younger bachelors who either survived the war or did not serve at all. With dirt-poor upbringings, he faced few other choices but to remain in small-town Iowa.

Early 1922, it is speculated that brick-layer George and 2-years-his-senior 25-year-old Iva re-kindled their years-earlier acquaintance. French Iva is solidly-built, with a severe nose, untuned vocal chords, and unruly jet-black hair. She is the second youngest child of eight, raised in a sheltered home. Isolated, she is gullible and lacks street smarts. Overall, she's not the most colorful crayon in the box. Iva is, however, ardently determined. Determined to the point of using rash or wild measures to catch a husband. Rash for a reason; her youthful time clock is ticking, and everybody knows it. The harmless question, "So, what are you up to these days?" only re-surfaces the spinster elephant in the room, as well as stinging reality.

Remember that bachelors near to Spinster Iva's age or older either died fighting for their country, died because of the pandemic, or they returned to live anywhere but Podunk. Over the years, her 7 siblings all left home, to marry, or for other reasons. Maybe her isolated mother possessed a less strategic jump than connected-others in their small-town community. She finally awakens to a perplexing phenomenon: Young, eligible prospects near to Iva's age have been scarce for years, and that particular age group will always be scarce, even though soldiers have returned from war. (In other words, the chances for decades-later yours-truly to ever be born are looking slim.)

1930 "Nevada Abbey" & 1922 love-child
Dirt poor, all live on strict Grandpa L's farm, under one roof
For perspective, Downton Abbey Seasons 1-6 were set 1912-1925
Remember Edith's love-child shame? Pretty much the same

Financially strapped Cora wants her daughter married and reminds Iva of it most days. Each and every day, Iva's attentions and hormones increasingly focus on finding Mr. Right. She wants children. She was born to be a mother. Her expectations must re-adjust. George was raised STRICT 7th Day Adventist, and he rebels from his childhood beliefs. He is more daring than Iva, but they have a common bond. He has experienced disappointment, and fatherless Iva is experiencing hers. This 20-something couple (and their living parents) will see their wildest nightmare play out, and Iva will feel shame. A nightmare because events occur out of order. The cart comes before the horse. Creating a glaring problem and varied disappointments, mishandled afterward. In other words, intimate relations occur before marriage, with an unwed pregnancy. What-not-to-do to their religious parents, especially in small-town 1922.

It is the steamy and complicated material upon which 21st-century classy soap operas thrive. Yet, the events play out in homespun Nevada, Iowa, to two religious families. It is one of the cover-ups that we kids were never told. Dad's father and mother (my dirt-poor paternal grandparents) entered into a marriage-of-necessity on June 19, 1922. And too soon thereafter for the 1922 couple to ever cover-up, just 6 months later, their first child (Dad's older sister) was born, on December 31, 1922. In those days, premature 6-month-olds did not survive birth. That is why I surmise she was a Love Child. 

At some point meager finances gave the young couple little other choice but to live with Bricklayer George's parents, rather than with Iva's widowed 61-year-old Mom (IF she was still living). Maybe it was after "the fire" that Mom once mentioned. Recalling Dad's brief stories, about quiet Sabbath afternoons and his strict, Bible-reading Paternal Grandfather, I surmise there was a living-under-one-roof, tight situation. 

Their wedding date reverberated loudly while searching on Ancestry.com. First, because 10 days short of 85 years later, our daughter, their great-Granddaughter's wedding date was so close to theirs, June 9, 2007. The date would never have stood out if Iva's wedding month/day wasn't deja-vu to my daughter's. And secondly, Love Child was also born in the year 1922. I scratched my head, "What?" If their baby had been born even one day later, into the New Year (January 1, 1923), I never would have noticed. It was like our heritage was screaming that this secret is important and needed to be uncovered.

Unless heritage pain is dealt with, it passes on to the next generation(s). I always believed my Grandmother was strict and perfectly religious, but she was mega-human and more than covered it up, and Dad believed he successfully covered it up, too. I admire their devotion to each other as a family, but grieve Iva's judgmental attitude toward Mom (I saw one of Iva's firm letters written to Dad). Dad must have erroneously thought he would be a “Judas” for sharing his Mother’s secret with us; I now look like “Judas.” I pray that instead God sees a sincere “Peter,” the active Disciple; God knew Peter's heart, and He knows mine.

These events occurred on (what Dad referred to as) "the wrong-side-of-the-tracks." In other words, it was Dad's family shame. In his childhood home, a young boy was forced to observe and hone the skillful art of hiding and denial, to help protect his family and the sister who adored her little brother so much. And as an adult, he was compelled to protect in the next generation a close relative's double-life. It was a requirement, and it helps me understand him better, and admire their ardent loyalty to each other and to family. 

Sadly, that honed skill of hiding and denial, and covering up, helped Dad to successfully live two adult lives... as a functioning and charming, busy lawyer as well as a sporadic, angry alcoholic. He projected his mother's indiscretion (and our maternal grandfather's infidelity) onto his shy, stay-at-home, work-widow wife, as paranoid fears. Dad's 90-minute roundtrip-work-drive with 10- to 14- hour workdays most likely helped foster deep insecurities about whether his beautiful young wife was faithful to him and their marriage. Ignore and hide a problem and it goes away? That's not what we learned. The problem grows.

And now for some vital words from our... Almighty Sponsor.

The deep issue in my grandmother's story is... famine. The feelings are... disappointment and fear. During times of disappointment, Vader's greatest allies are wavering impatience and screaming insecurities. What protective posture shouldn't win out? inVader? (rash decisions based on inner fears) and/or eVader? (deny or evade the true issue, in any way possible). Pick your poison and try to manage the consequences. My grandmother chose both of those protective measures; she made a rash decision for marriage, and then everything (except, of course, her love child) was covered up afterward. Sadly, we know little about Dad's father George Henry (our paternal grandfather) except that he was a brick-layer who died of skin cancer when Dad was just 20. And, we have no record of the names of George Henry's parents (our paternal great grandparents) except for their very common last name.

When life feels like one perpetual Groundhog Day. The Worst.Day.Ever repeats itself. Day, after day, after day. The on-&-on-a-thons of life. Seeing others of similar ages getting married. Or receiving promotions. Or having children. Or health challenges that won't heal. Disappointment, with pain so deep a heart hurts, can also impact one's felt-value. The big "L" is seemingly branded on the forehead for all to see. Life feels unfair. Each and every day begins with the same alarm clock, making the same beep or ring, hearing the same morning radio announcer, sharing the same identical zingers. Zingers that no longer amuse, because they sting.

A third alternative promotes vulnerability. This posture might have made it possible for my parents to pass down balanced ancestry stories to us, as well as names and heritage backgrounds. Seek... the road less traveled: Transparency with God... He is El Roi, the God who sees me. Rather than that idea being fearful (because we all sin) it can be comforting, like it was for Servant Hagar in the desert... and her dire, impoverished need for Son Ishmael. The same God sees me and my children. Include a safe measure of transparency with at least one person. Use discretion, and don't deny.

What not to fear? Disappointment and dismay. Pray "show me the way." Search for insight and awareness. Don't stuff your feelings, and earnestly hold to hope; because emotional strength depends on it. Explore options and face the truth (Know Thyself University). And, 24/7, practice God's presence and embrace the promises below, sent from the Almighty. If not for ourselves, for the sake of future generations!

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10).

I found my life when I laid it down. Let it go, lay it down.