A Love Story

Dignity, devotion, duty, honour, sacrifice, loyalty, commitment, steadfastness, responsibility.

A short lexicon of what might seem to us in the 2020’s to be set of old-fashioned, even quaint, words. Words that might indicate some degree of control or coercion, some socially constructed expectations that restrict us, or nudge us to behave in ways contrary to our wonderful inner vision of the special free and cosmic being we know ourselves to be.

There is no significant anniversary of theirs in October, but I find myself reflecting on the life of my mum and dad. It was a life lived not so much for themselves, but for each other. In world terms their story is not exceptional. Many thousands of couples have lived out a similar life. Theirs is a love story shared across the world.

It is a love story filled with words like dignity, devotion, duty, honour, sacrifice, loyalty, commitment, steadfastness, and responsibility. Some academic or activist, or both, might rail against the oppressive societal pressures that channelled my parents into what might be claimed to have been a life of servitude or drudgery, shackled by the constraints of a set of social values that are no longer appropriate, or relevant, today.

This set of quaint, perhaps old-fashioned, behaviours and attitudes were, of course, not the only words that characterized their 68-yearlong marriage. There was happiness and sadness, great joy and crushing grief. They had 4 children of their own, all of whom died before they reached the age of four. Some genetic defect, it was supposed.

Me and my brother were adopted from different families and we kind of look something like DeVito and Schwarzenegger from the movie Twins. Of course - wouldn’t you just know it - I’m the one who looks more like DeVito.

Like so many people in the world they had bad times and good times. But they faced them together. For them, it wasn’t a quaint lexicon, but a lived lexicon. A lexicon that arose naturally out of their love for one another.

Was it a perfect love? I suppose not, but the imperfections were largely kept hidden from me and my brother. Whether pursued consciously or sub-consciously, their lives represented to me a set of ideals that seem to be at increasing odds with the modern cultural rise of explicit self-gratification and instant gratification¹.

The question I suppose for us today is to figure out what are the ideals we should hold dear? What values do we cherish? I have not always lived up to the ideals set by mum and dad in their own behaviour. I see this not as a positive thing, but a negative one. Sometimes I have failed.

A few years ago, I asked my mum whether she felt she had been ‘oppressed’ as a woman. I genuinely wanted to know what she felt about her life as a woman. She looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. It was clear she had no idea what I was talking about. I tried to explain further. Lo and behold, from the look on mum’s face, I think a third head sprouted. Her answer was that she did what was needed to be done, and so did dad.

The modern lexicon of oppression, marginalization, emotional labour, and the like represented a framework, a way of viewing the world, that she simply could not connect with. I suppose it would be said today that she had some internalized something or other.

But what are the right frameworks? What are the right attitudes we strive to instil in our children? What values and ideals should we be aiming for, even if we fall short? Is there any place at all for the quaint lexicon, or do these words represent a conservative mindset that is of no relevance today?

I am profoundly grateful for, and often in awe of, the love mum and dad had for one another. I am grateful and blessed to have been a part of that life of love.

What kind of love stories are we writing today?

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1. One of the things attacked by The Smithsonian as being an aspect of “whiteness” and “white culture” was delayed gratification