Part 2....Continuation........And Where Do We Go From Here ..... From ....Two Souls on Their Journey

Before I continue I'd like to point out the difference in sexual standards between 1960 and today. Although feminists were beginning to burn their bras, sex was cloistered in the confines of marriage and the subject was never a public issue. If a young girl became pregnant, she was immediately married or went on a few months vacation and came home a little slimmer. That was "it." Period. Since I was a product of the times, I naturally assumed Marilyn was married when I saw she was pregnant.

We were sitting in our little artists group at the Nic, shrouded in a haze of cigarette smoke, drinking Mexican beer and discussing the evening's drawing class. Someone put a nickle in the jukebox and Dean Martin was crooning "Volare" as a soft background to the animated discussions.

I happened to be sitting next to Marilyn and noticed she was very quiet and withdrawn from all conversation. It appeared she and I were about the only two in the whole cafe who weren't smoking.

She turned to me and said, "Smoky, isn't it?"

That opened up a conversation with both of us declaring we weren't smokers. We thought that was odd since it was a time when everyone smoked. Marilyn added that she stayed away from the Nic since she became pregnant because the cigarette smoke made her ill. When I asked her when she was due, she laughed nervously and said, Any minute." As Marilyn was studying my face, it must have betrayed some question about the father.

"I'm not married." she said, again studying my reaction.

I didn't have time to answer when she pointed to three guys sitting in a corner and said, "Harvey, the one taking his guitar from the case, is the father."

I did manage to ask if they were together and she blinked away tears as she told me he didn't want to get married or have anything to do with the baby. I knew Harvey slightly from class as he was one of the helpful students giving me drawing tips. He with his guitar and singing buddies were always the center of attention. Harvey was a charming bon vivant and I understood how he could literally charm the pants off a girl.

I reached over and touched her small, helpless hand. She turned toward me with tears streaking black mascara down her cheeks. This fragile girl began pouring out her circumstances as fast as the tears kept rolling down her face.

"I was so stupid, she said. I thought he loved me but I got pregnant and my Mother wouldn't let me me come back to Duluth because she didn't want my Father to know. She put me in this horrible home for unwed mothers and now the nuns want me to give up the baby. They're cruel and keep telling me what a sinner I am when they stick the papers in my face to sign. I haven't signed because I want my baby. What'll I do? I'm so miserable."

Marilyn suddenly stopped crying and apologized for burdening me with all this information. I assured her it was OK and I would stop by the home in a few days and we could talk some more. She said she'd like that .

Driving home, I kept thinking about the plight of this girl. I couldn't begin to imagine the anguish of having my babies taken from me. I'd stop to see her after my next class at the U.

The next day, Judy called and excitedly said Marilyn had a baby girl. After my class on Wednesday, I rushed to the hospital and literally ran through the hall to the maternity ward. I didn't understand my urgency as I flew into Marilyn's room. Marilyn was again in tears, just as she was the last time I saw her, but this time there was a nun standing over her with a pen and paper. Immediately I got the picture. She still hadn't signed the baby away. I stood by the end of her bed and didn't budge. The nun gave me a grim look as she told Marilyn she'd be back.

As soon as the nun left the room, the bag of emotions burst. We hugged each other as she told me the details of the birth and how much she loved her baby and didn't want to give it away and how badly the nuns were tormenting her . When I asked what she was going to do, she just shook her head.

In that moment, I swear I don't know what came over me. I said, "Get the baby. You're coming home with me." I couldn't believe those words were coming from my mouth. I didn't know this person. We lived in a tiny house, already over-crowded with four kids. Where would everyone sleep?

We took the baby, signed her out of the hospital and drove to the home to get Marilyn's belongings. How was I going to explain to Daryl that I'd brought home a person I didn't know AND HER BABY, to live with us?????

To be continued.

Two Souls on Their Journey

I've previously written a few posts about Marilyn, my friend of 50 years. We try to communicate with each other nearly every day. Neither of us has ever felt a moment's displeasure with the other. This post is how we met.

The year was 1960. Besides trying to finish Michner's new book Hawaii, I was Mother to four kids, taking classes at the U of MN and the Art School, dancing, and serving on the PTA. How I kept my fingers in all those pies, I'll never know but I was young, healthy and determined.

After three years in Morocco during the Korean War, my husband and I had returned to the States and fell into suburban life with the ever growing economy. Daryl proved to be a brilliant business man, affording me the luxury of getting the education I missed out on by getting married so young.

Daryl and I were growing with the times but in separate directions. The kids and I rarely saw him. Devoted to work, he left the house before anyone was up and got home after the kids were in bed. Family values during that time were totally opposite of today's. Wives usually didn't work. Since I had been a child of the great depression, I was thankful for a husband who provided for us, even though he was usually absent. This meant I also had time to pursue some passions of my own.

Have you ever noticed how we often involve ourselves in things that are merely the vehicle for meeting people we are meant to find in this life. My weekly drawing class at the Art Institute was that vehicle for meeting Marilyn. I had no talent in art, whatsoever. That time would have been better spent dancing or singing but every Wednesday night found me in frustration with my bad drawings of the human anatomy. I can't for the life of me remember why I chose this class and was even thinking of dropping out when I suddenly became friends with some of the talented people who gave me drawing tips while encouraging me to stay.

After class, we all met at "The Nicollet Cafe," (shortened The Nic) to socialize and discuss art. I was the odd duck on the outer edge because many of these poor struggling art students went on to achieve greatness in the art world. Recently I had the surprise to run into two of them who definitely were living in great comfort because of their talent but at that time, everyone lived in uncertain aspiration, trying to become a name in the art world.

It was Marilyn's sister Judy, who I met first. We had a double connection through art school and dancing. We exchanged tid-bits of information about our lives and I was aware that Judy and her sister had recently migrated to the "big city of Minneapolis" from a small town of Duluth. Judy worked in a dance studio to pay for her art classes and although she mentioned her sister, Marilyn, her remarks became rather evasive when she referred to her.

The following week when the group gathered at The Nic, there was a pretty, petite dark haired girl I had never seen before. She closely resembled the then-young, Liz Taylor. Judy introduced the girl as her sister, Marilyn. We became engaged in a conversation, during which I found out that Marilyn didn't go to the art school, nor was she an aspiring artist. A little later, Marilyn stood up and I was somewhat surprised to notice she was obviously pregnant, because I wasn't aware she was married.

To Be Continued.

In 1960, Chubby Checkers had taken the US by storm with his Twist record. Below is a clip of various dancers doing the Twist.