THE BREAKUP

                            Omen #3   THE BREAKUP

   And then there was the saga of The Lamps, ah yes, I remember it well; it was the pair of milk glass lamps that pushed us to the breaking point, no pun intended.    One night when Guy rang the bell Mother jumped up like a Jack in the box.  She ran to me, handed me a pair of milk glass lamps (glass that looks like milk) and backed out of sight.   That dark cloud over my head began to rumble, rain was in the forecast.   A fresh wave of anxiety hit me as I put on my happy face, a lamp under each arm and greeted Guy at the door.      Pretending life was normal I quickly cut between him and the door made my way to Thurman waiting in the drive with the top down.  I jumped in, stood the lamps on my lap, hide my face between the shades and sat  there as still as a mouse.  Maybe Guy wouldn't notice the lamps.  There’s always hope.  Guy walked to the car in slow-mo, he slid into the driver’s seat, backed out of the driveway and turned down the street.  Just as I started to relax he had a sudden urge to break the sound barrier before the end of my block.  The lamp shades starting spinning like  wind mills, slapping me in the face.  I screamed for mercy, “Stop, stop” and all hell broke loose.  

     That did it! This was the breaking point for both of us.  The lamp shades were an omen.  Our wedding plans were spinning out of control. The growing pile of rejects was scaring Guy spit-less.  And I was stressed to the max trying to please everybody.  Mother kept asking me if the toilet seat cover was too purple for Guy's taste and Daddy kept asking me what happened to the ring and Guy kept asking me why we didn't elope as planned.  
    I couldn't take it anymore.  I threw the two lamps up and back over my head only to hear them collide in midair, leaving a trail of splattered milk glass in the street and the lamp shades rolling over lawns like tumbleweeds.  I dissolved into a down pour of tears.  The rain quickly turned into an ice storm when Guy hooked a U  in the middle of the street and deposited me back at the house. 
   We both needed time out, to back up and get a fresh start.  For us to resume dating I had to persuade mother to hold off on her contributions to Sonny's bachelor dump, assure daddy he would see the ring again and I agreed any wedding talk was off limits, at least for now.     God forbid Mother should ask Guy how the milk glass lamps looked in the "honeymoon apartment".

    Stay Tuned for Omen #4                                

THE HONEYMOON APARTMENT?

                       Omen #2       THE HONEYMOON APARTMENT ?

        Mother had prematurely announced to the Ladies Golf Association that Guy and I were getting married.  So now she was getting nervous waiting for our engagement to be confirmed. she worked off her anxiety cleaning out the garage and closets. Daily she would come forward with some treasure that would “look so cute” in our “honeymoon apartment”.  From then on each time Guy rang the doorbell for our date Mother would jump up like Povlo's dog to hand me some family discard for Guy to take to his “honeymoon apartment”.

   To get the full picture here you need to know Mother was always afraid I would go into Guy’s “bachelor pad”, and now she is calling it our “honeymoon apartment”.  My point here is this, I had no intention of living in that gosh awful place and now she is furnishing it.    Guy’s bachelor pad was unkempt at best.  I just happened to peek inside the door one hot summer day to find a Christmas tree skeleton decorated with cigarette butts and flip tabs leaning against the wall in a heap of dry pine needles, there was no furniture in the room and the floor was carpeted with plastic wrap and coat hangers from the cleaners plus dirty socks, etc.  Guy had no need for a burglar alarm because there was nothing to take and an intruder would surly trip in the tangled coat hangers, fall to the floor and suffocate in the plastic wrap before making it past the Christmas tree.  I’m not even going to mention the blue mold in the kitchen sink and the Kentucky Fried Chicken box of peturifed bufflo wings.

   And now Mother was adding to the mix with in-law-hand-me-downs such as a frayed bath mat with matching toilet seat cover, a stack on faded towels that didn’t match, a Fondue dish complete with “”cute little forks”, two well-worn bean bag chairs, souvenir coffee mugs from Mother’s golf tournaments and an old GE toaster that was a wedding gift for Mother and Daddy in 1937.  Our engagement went downhill from there.  All of this was freaking Guy out big time.  I could see the reality of married live coat him with a white paste.

         Stay tuned for Omen #3

THE RING

                                                     WHEN GUY AND I MARRIED
                                                                    THE OMENS

            Sometimes Guy would pick me up after school and to go for a walk in the park.  One day  I took my sketch book so I could sketch this profile of him.   The little log bridge in the City Gardens where we were sitting  is still there.  I did this sketch of him in March of 1957

                                        Omen  #1 The Ring

   Guy and I dated for seven years back in the 1950’s.  I was 14 and he was 16. I was allowed to go out with him Wednesday night and Saturday night.  Sometimes he would pick me up after school in Thurman, his MG, with the top down.   We would go to the local drive-in for a burger and walk in the park. 
             But when Guy picked me up at the house for a date he would plead for me to be ready so he wouldn't have to sit in the living room with my Dad.   Guy was uncomfortable around Daddy because he never spoke to him, all those seven years.  Daddy would be in his vinyl recliner wearing his  red silk pajamas, watching TV with his bare feet propped up wiggling his toes.  They would both just sit there without a word.  

     Note…Daddy must of had a lest 5 pair of red silk PJs. Guy never saw Daddy in street clothes until we all met at the church the day of the wedding in 1961.
            Once we announced we wanted to marry everything changed, mother and dad took over.  Mother made it clear that anything short of a large church wedding would disgrace the family.  She walked out of the room saying she would call the pastor of the First Church first thing in the morning and started a to-do list.  
              Daddy pulled Guy aside for a man to man talk, "I'll help you get a ring for Cynthia."  I guess Guy hadn’t thought about a ring.  You have to realize, we didn’t have a clue how the world works. We were as green as they come. In those days green meant naive, not environmentally conscious.

   Daddy said he knew a man who owed him a favor and would give Guy a good deal on an engagement ring.  Daddy quizzed  Guy further,  “How much money do you have to spend on a ring, etc?”    I’m sure all Guy could think of was compare the cost of a ring with the cost of filling up “Thurman’s” gas tank or maybe a weeks pay?  He probably answered something like, “Three and a half fill ups?”  Anyway, I was not in on the details at the time.

    A week later Guy arrived for our date and rang the door bell.  Little did I know all hell was about to break loose. When I answer the door I noticed mother crying in the kitchen,  her face buried in a white lace handkerchief.  Daddy’s voice summoned us to the living room, “Ya’ll come in here and sit down,”  drowning out Mother’s travail.

    I was surprised to see Daddy sitting on the sofa rather than his recliner.  He was dressed in his usual shiny red silk PJs, patting the cushions he motioned for us to sit one on each side of him.   I saw each others face go pale as we sat down.  Daddy turned his back to Guy, faced me and demanded, “Cynthia, hold out your left hand.”  A  sob from the kitchen punctuating the moment.

    Now I knew why Mother was crying., I paused until the burn of my first official panic attack passed then dutifully followed Daddy’s instructions.  He pulled a small velvet box out of his red silk pajama pocket, flipped opened the lid with his thumb nail, pulled out a tiny diamond ring and pushed it over my knuckle.  This was an,"OHhhh NOooo!" moment.

   Daddy was beaming with pride.  Mother was wailing from the kitchen.  Guy’s ears where smoking and I was reeling with another  panic attack.

    Guy  looked at me with a, "lets get the   H-----  out of hear" look.  We ran for the nearest exit, thanked Daddy, and waved goodbye to Mother pretending not to hear her travail.  I jumped in Thurman and slammed my door preparing for a quick take-off. But Guy just sat there, eyes glazed starring through the wind shield.  Looking strait ahead he stretched his arm towards me palm up  carefully measuring his words so as not to explode, “give….me…. the…. ring”.   Believe me when I say a dark cloud entered the car, settled over head  to stay a while.  I knew this was not going to be pretty and the battle lines had been drawn.  It would be long and painful before I saw that ring again, if ever.   
    Every time I returned home from a date Daddy would call me to stand before his recliner so he couldcheck me out. With a scowl and a growl he would say, “Where is the ring?”  I tried to explain to him Guy must be keeping the ring so he could propose to me his way.  Daddy would crumble under his breathe, “Well, that’s a fine How-do-ya-do.” Needless to say, our engagement would be delayed until further notice.
            Stay tuned for Omen #2.

                          

                             

OUR FIRST DATE somewhere in the mid 1950's

                                                            OUR FIRST DATE 
   I did this drawing on my algebra book cover in the 9th grade.  Guy was standing next to Ruskey, his car, and my first car date.   Ruskey was a cool two toned stick shift Chevy with a police radio.  My  best friend Lu Lu and Guy's best friend Buddy also grace my algebra book cover.  When they introduced Guy and I when I was 14 and Guy was 16.
               
                                                                       CAR DATE
                           It's almost eight,  I can't be late.
                           Guy's picking me up for our first car date.

                           Guy was 16___duck tails, red wind breaker and shark skin shoes.
                           I was 14___pony tail, bobby socks and cheeks of pink hues.
                         
                           We are on our own, he, James Dean and I, Natalie Wood
                           If there is something we could then is it something we should?
     
                           Guy drove a two toned stick shift Chevy, Ruskey was his name.
                           We were eager to play the grown up game.

                           His left hand on the necking knob, cigarette between his fingers,
                           Right hand on the gear shift__I felt a since of danger.       

                           My poodle skirt and petticoats filled the front seat.
                           "Oh, Guy can you see the pedals to know where to put your feet?"

                           His sent of Dentyne & Old Spice mixed in the air with
                           my Colgate & perfumed spray for my hair.

                           Our first night on the town, crank the windows down.
                           Tune in the Rock & Roll and turn up the sound.

                           Green lights, red lights twinkle in the night.
                           The city was in full swing much to our delight.

                           A quick stop at Carlson's to take a little break.
                           Two Dr. Peppers, one bacon burger and one chicken fried steak.

                          We didn't have a plan and we had no place to go,
                          So we followed the voice on Guy's police radio.

                          There was a car wreck on Seventh St. and a break-in on East Lancaster.
                          Which way should we go?  Which call should we answer?

                          We had already watched the planes land at Carlswell from the top of the hill.
                          And walked through the Zoo in the dark for a thrill.

                          Of course we didn't have a watch and there were no cell phones.
                          But the clock on the dash warned Guy, "It's time you get Cynthia home!"

                                       What were my parents thinking?
                                                                                 Cynthia Powers  2008

Introduction to My Site

    My name is Cynthia Powers.  Fifty years ago I married my high school sweetheart, Guy.  This site is about our true life experiences together.  Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.
   We live in Metro City and Guy was always my superhero.  Everybody loved Guy.
I describe Guy as a mix of Steve Maqueen, James Dean and Pee Wee Herman.  He looked great in his red wind breaker, was always on the move &  plotting our next adventure.
   I describe myself a want-a be Natalie Wood but somewhere between Sandra Dee and Maw Kettle.  I was extremely gullible, madly in love and domestic to the core.  All I ever wanted was to make a home for Guy, Bucky and Missy, fed the dog, water the garden and milk goats.  However I believed whatever Guy said and followed his lead where ever it took us.
                        Thus, "The Extraordinary Adventures of an Ordinary Housewife."
    
   
                                                                                        Cynthia Powers