Bridges Of Time (eBook)

Chapter 1:
Shadows of My Life

I want to start at the beginning and tell you a story of time.

Early morning slipped quietly into my bedroom. As I rose gently from sleep, I heard the soft humming of my ceiling fan and the occasional twitter of a bird. I smiled at the joy of waking up to a new day. God only knows it was not always this way. I’d learned to love sunrises with dewy mornings and breathed deeply with anticipation of another day. I’d finally learned how precious time is. Time is what gives us new chances, new ideas, new dreams, new adventures and best of all, time to make amends. Time to say, “I’m sorry,” time to say, “I’ll change,” time to heal old wounds or to make new friends, and sadly, time to make more mistakes, bad choices or to do hurtful things. Time is the only thing I took so long to understand, appreciate, and relish. How beautiful is time!

I want to start at the beginning and tell you a story of time. When I was young and came into adulthood, it was the early fifties, and things were very different for women. This was way before women rights and equal partners in the marriage and all the incredible perks open to women today. I lived my life and made my choices in the world I was in, as did all of us. I played the hand I was dealt, and it will be hard for people who didn’t live in that era to understand. It was very hard. What different roads our lives have taken if each had walked a different path, but it all seems destined as everything comes together.

I was a very attractive, popular, and outgoing teenager. I had lots of friends. My parents owned a business, and we had a wonderful life for the small town we lived in. We lived in a lovely, big white house with beautiful furniture. My bedroom and that of my sisters were visions of fluffy pink curtains and dressing tables. I am the oldest of three children, all girls. My parents were happy and fun loving, and our life was fun and exciting.

I met my future husband, Donald Smith, when our small school consolidated with other schools and new pupils arrived. His parents lived on a farm in a nearby community. We were excited and happy to meet new kids. It made school more fun.

Donald and his brother were born to older parents who, although they lived very humbly, threw money at their sons. They each drove a new car, which was unheard of in those days when families often all shared one car. Donald was very handsome and popular, so all the girls tried to date him, and he dated quite a lot.

My sisters were terrible brats who delighted in teasing him; he was an easy target because he had never had to deal with this kind of behavior. I’m sure my folks thought he would tire of this, but he bravely withstood every effort to break us up. I had never seen before or after anyone dating as consistently as my future husband dated me. He brought beautiful gifts on holidays and took me to all the school proms. We both attended the same church. He had joined my church when we had started going steady in my junior year of high school. I was elected president of my class and participated in band, cheerleading, and lots of sports.

My mother took me aside one day and said, “Shirley, do you realize that you have begun to give up a lot of your friends and school activities?”

Donald wanted all my time and attention, and I thought I was truly blessed. I could not see it then. I was angry and defensive, and my mother finally threw up her hands and left. In my senior year, he proposed at Christmas with a lovely ring. You see, back in the ’50s if you did not have someone in mind to marry when you graduated from high school, you were considered a loser. We all married young. It was the goal, the plan of that era. Few women worked outside the home; few girls went on to college.

If you saw the TV series Mad Men, you have a small picture of what life was like back then, but ours was even worse in the ’50s. You belonged to your father until you were married, and then you were owned by your husband. It sounded like a brutal joke even at that time, but it was true. We were expected to be loving, dutiful wives, prepare excellent meals, and keep the house clean and shiny. You also, of course, were supposed to keep his clothing clean and ironed. It was a very time-consuming job because there were no washers and dryers then.

Back then, we had to use a Maytag wringer washer. All the clothes had to be hung up on an outside clothesline to dry regardless of the weather. After they were taken down, they were sprinkled with water, rolled into tight rolls, put in a basket, and covered for a while to dampen them to be ironed. It all took hours. We always washed on Monday and ironed on Tuesday. The beds were all stripped before you started the laundry. All our meals were cooked from scratch. There were no fast foods and only a few restaurants. We were trained by our mothers all our lives for this role, and I was well prepared by my mother. I was good at it, and mother was proud of me.

Every girl had a hope chest in early high school days. We gathered beautiful things for our future homes. My mother, grandmother, and I constantly shopped for years for mine. I had dishes, glasses, stemware, cooking pans, quilts, sheets, beautiful towels, and every kind of doily and picture. Mother was so proud of that chest. We added to it every day until I was married, but first let me tell you about my love for this man.

I recall it so well. I was going to walk to school and explain to him that my parents had agreed to let us marry in September after I graduated in May. In a final bid to break us up, my parents took the family on an extended vacation to California in July. They thought he might date someone else or tire of me. They were wrong. When we finally got home, he was there, waiting as always. Nothing could deter him from marrying me.

On my way to meet him, I walked down the brick street lined with beautiful honeysuckle bushes that I love. It had antique streetlights with shimmering soft yellow rings around the lights. My sandals made a merry click when they touched the brick street…click, click, click…and a delightful little rhythm. We walked this street a lot, Donald and me, holding hands. I loved the way I felt beside him. He was tall with broad shoulders. I loved the smell of him when I learned in close to speak, the way he looked down through his thick lashes to smile at me, and his gaze, his clear blue eyes looking down at me lovingly. I loved his attentive, grabbing gaze for it felt like standing in the sun or a spotlight. It just felt so good. I could have stood there and soaked up his presence forever with his wide, perfect smile and the tiny dimple on the left corner of his mouth.

What made it so unique was he was so oblivious to the effect of his presence on others, so blind, like everyone shared this gift. Later, that was part of the problem; everyone wanted that feeling too of the sun on your face and the warmth of the heart. I just loved him so much. I might have known it couldn’t have lasted, but it was good for so long between us. I will always grieve losing that part of my life. I might have known it was too much like magic, but back then I just heard the click, click, click of my sandals hitting the street. I could see him coming toward me. Click, click, click. My sandals almost sang a song. So long ago, so happy…click, click, click. I can still hear my sandals on the brick street.

The wedding was the event of the season in our community. Mother loved making wedding plans. We pored over magazines for weeks and went to St. Louis to a large bridal store to select the dress. We choose a ball gown, ivory creation with a scooped neck and long tapered sleeves with lots of tiny, covered buttons down the back. The dress was heavily beaded with a lot of lace detail on the skirt. It had a huge, enchanting cathedral train. We choose a full length, full lacy veil with layers of net. It was breathtaking. Since the train was so long, we had to add a junior bridesmaid to help with it and arrange it at the altar.

My bridesmaids were all wearing dark emerald green dresses with tiny cap sleeves, full skirts, and matching long over the elbow gloves. We had them wear their hair up with a gorgeous band of fresh ivory roses on a satin band. The dark green was for the fall season. They carried small bouquets of ivory roses and dark green satin ribbons. My bouquet was a masterpiece in itself. Donald had said to choose anything I wanted, and I did. It was ivory roses, seed pearls, and stephanotis centered with an antique cameo pin of my grandmother and long flowing green trim. It was captivating!

We had sent the bridesmaids ahead in two cars, and my father drove me. When we got to the church, there were so many cars it looked like a rock concert. My knees were a little shaky. It took us ten minutes to get me out of the car and my huge dress arranged. I could hear the vocalist ending her solo of Oh, promise me. As I entered the flower-decked, candle-lit church, I should have turned around and run back, but then I couldn’t have been happier to get inside and meet my groom at the altar.

He had brought me a diamond necklace as a wedding gift. I had gotten him a gold watch that I had inscribed inside ‘Love is Eternal SP to DS 09-25-1954.’ It had always been special to him.

After...