Blind Passion: A True Story of Magnificent Love

Copyright © 2020 by Vincent I. Perry.

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Rev. date: 09/30/2020

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Contents

Introduction

1. The Disillusioned Mother and Wife

2. Dorothy’s Diary

3. Dorothy and her University Kids

4. Their Second Academic Year

5. The Magical Summer

6. The Tumultuous Autumn

7. The Erotic Winter

8. Their Springtime Weeks of Delirious Love

9. Amor Omnia Vincit

10. Forging the Beginning of their Love-Life

Epilogue: Love and Marriage

Semper Dulcis

Preface

The following narrative is a true story, an autobiographical love memoir. Vincent I. Perry is the pen name of one of the two lovers. The story is documented from Dorothy’s journal and as remembered in minute detail by Grant Duncan, supplemented by the memories of other persons who figure in this narrative. Virtually all calendrical dates are accurate. Only a small fraction of them are estimates. Almost all the personal names used throughout the narrative, including Grant Duncan, are pseudonyms, designed to protect the identities of the persons involved.

This wonderful love story is published to honor the sacred memory of Grant’s blessed and most beloved Dorothy, his one great love and the one true divine gift to his life in accordance with the meaning of her name. It pays tribute to Dorothy’s extraordinary character as a human being, her nearly saintly goodness, and her incomparable loving nature. The story constitutes a most beautiful testimony to the power and majesty of true love between a man and a woman.

VIP

Thank you, my dearest Dorothy Alice, for blessing my life with thirty years of loving perfection! You were my first and only girlfriend and my one and only lover! This book declares our magnificent true love to the entire world!

Grant Duncan

Introduction

The following narrative is not a romance novel of fiction, but a personal love history, a love memoir. It is therefore a work of nonfiction. The distinction is crucial in understanding the nature of the book’s content. A work of nonfiction is firmly grounded in facts and events that actually took place. Accordingly, a work of nonfiction does not lend itself to having the facts and actual events being distorted, falsified, or ignored in order to conform to the conventions of a fictional literary genre.

The following narrative is a true story that traces the origin and development of a love affair between a young blind college student and a much older married woman and mother of three children, and how their love for each other became complete and total, thereby transforming their lives and eventually culminating in their lovely marriage. The events described occurred between 1965 and 1976 in a college community in the state of Illinois, a place termed University City for the purposes of this narrative.

As with all historical accounts, this story is based upon factual sources of information; and in this case there are two sources: Dorothy’s journal entries and Grant’s phenomenal memory to recall personal experiences. One major advantage that fiction has over nonfiction is that the author of fiction can compose a full narration of events by inventing them, whereas the author of nonfiction must be bound by the facts; and if his sources of information are not complete, the author is not allowed to fill the gaps with his own fabrications. Consequently, the following narrative does contain gaps, and these gaps result from the basic nature of human memory. With very few exceptions, all of us cannot remember large amounts of routine activities in our lives: such as what we ate for breakfast one week ago. Rather, our memories tend to recall events that are of an unusual or extraordinary nature, such as a car accident, the breaking of a leg, the birth of a child, a particularly memorable party, etc. Therefore, since much of the following narrative is based upon Grant’s memory, the events described tend to be rather extraordinary ones that made a very deep impression upon Grant, so much so that he had no difficulty many years later, following the death of his darling Dorothy, in recalling the actual dates on which these events occurred; and although his memory could not recall numerous routine happenings, his recollection of extraordinary events is so abundant that the mere narration of them in sequence constitutes a reasonably full account of the history of Grant’s and Dorothy’s love-life. Moreover, as the result of the thirty years of their love-life and marriage, Grant could also easily recall and reproduce here the exact speech patterns and idioms commonly used by his beloved, as well as portions of their more memorable conversations and Dorothy’s own recalled memories of past events.

To those readers who might object that the narrative contains too many detailed descriptions of sexual activity, Grant replies that to him, none of them is the least bit pornographic, because these incidents were the natural physical manifestations of the complete and total love that Grant had for his darling Dorothy, and that Dorothy had for her beloved Grant. Thus, in Grant’s opinion, these explicit descriptions of sexual activity are neither gratuitous nor pornographic. They are certainly erotic, but they are also necessary in offering powerful testimonies to the complete and total love between these two people.

The principal theme of the narrative is charting the course of Dorothy’s life from a middle-aged unhappily married woman to one who discovered true love with a much younger man, and how the life of these two lovers was totally transformed and perfected by their love.

In many ways Dorothy’s personal odyssey from unhappy wife to a very happy remarried woman was typical of those times. Before 1970 or so divorce in our society was not very socially acceptable. Consequently, many young women who, like Dorothy, graduated from high school shortly after World War II quickly married and began having children, as the conventions of the day largely dictated. But after ten years or so many of these women found themselves to be unhappy in their marriages, but social conventions required them to endure their unhappiness until finally divorce began to be socially acceptable. The consequence was that many longstanding marriages began to break up, and many divorcees rediscovered happiness in newly formed marriages.

The events of Dorothy’s life as described in this narrative conform to this general pattern. But this story is quite unusual in that Dorothy’s new husband was half her age and was also blind. Both these circumstances prompted some of Dorothy’s immediate family members to be strongly opposed to the love affair and marriage, whereas their loving union was admired and fully embraced by the couple’s university friends.

Her journal entries vividly reveal the picture of a woman, trapped in an unhappy marriage, who was often confused about her own feelings because her own living reality was at variance to social conventions and expectations, who was belittled and criticized by her mother and sisters, frequently worn down and overwhelmed by her domestic duties (which were compounded by a chronically absent husband), and, despite all her best efforts as a devoted, thoroughly capable, and loving mother, was often thwarted by the uncooperative human failings of her children. The narrative documents how this talented and intelligent woman, possessing a remarkable personality and extraordinary goodness, slowly found a path out of her perplexing wilderness of unhappiness, first by achieving success in the singing organization, the Sweet Adelines, then by becoming an accomplished swimmer, and next by finding an important escape out of her unhappy home life by involving herself in volunteer work for blind students at the university, and finally realizing full redemption and total transformation as the result of one of her blind students falling totally in love with her, and she with him.

Chapter 1

The Disillusioned Mother and Wife

University City, Illinois: October 27, 1965, Wednesday

Dorothy stepped out of the front door and walked down to the edge of the yard to collect the mail from the mailbox. The catch for the day consisted of a few bills and a single personal letter from Lester Klingner, her father’s oldest brother. When she returned to the house, she laid the bills aside to be taken care of at another time. But she immediately opened the letter from her Uncle Les to find out what news he had to report. It brought her up to date as to his precarious health. His only real problem seemed to be high blood pressure and a somewhat rapid heart rate, not too bad for someone nearly seventy years old. Besides Uncle Les’ usual humorous remarks on his current situation in life, including his acquisition of a German Shepherd puppy, the letter contained a very important item of news. Uncle Les, whose wife Diana had died fourteen years ago without them having any children, was now designating his niece Dorothy as his sole heir and executor of his will. He therefore asked that she henceforth keep him informed of her telephone number and mailing address; and although he did not have very much in the way of valuable possessions or savings, he nevertheless insisted that Dorothy not tell anyone at all of his decision, because it could generate minor resentments among other family members. This would therefore be their own little secret.

Dorothy’s father, born in 1905, had died of cancer almost two years ago. During the funeral proceedings in Homewood, Illinois, a southern suburb of Chicago, where Dorothy and her siblings had grown up together, Uncle Les had cried and grieved so profoundly for his brother, who, unlike himself, had a sizable family of children and grandchildren. Uncle Les was heard to lament amid his weeping, Why wasn’t it me who became sick and died? Oh Babe, you had so much to live for! Why wasn’t it me!

For the past few decades Uncle Les had lived in Chicago itself. Consequently, when Dorothy and her family came to visit her parents in Homewood, they had never seen very much of her Uncle Les. But Babe’s death had brought Dorothy and Uncle Les together through their common grief to form a very close relationship that they had continued to foster by exchanging letters since the time of the funeral.

Dorothy’s father, who always went by the name Babe during his adulthood because of his fondness for Babe Ruth, had been such a kind and loving man. Unlike most marriages in which the husband-father assumes the role of the disciplinarian while the wife-mother is the dispenser of tender loving care, Dorothy’s parents had played somewhat opposite roles. Her mother Gloria had a somewhat stern demeanor, was rather sharp-tongued, and sometimes exhibited an explosive temper. Babe, on the other hand, possessed such sweetness and goodness of character that it endeared him to virtually everyone. While Dorothy and her sisters were growing up, children in the neighborhood often came to their door to ask if Mr. Klingner could come out to play with them. He always went the extra mile to please people; and if he was at all able to render a kindness to someone, he invariably did. For example, when his only son Timothy (born many years after his sisters) was playing football in high school, he showed up for every game with a video camera to tape it for everyone; and this was in the day when video cameras were a rarity. No wonder then that Babe was much loved, and his death was greatly mourned by many. He had died not long before the assassination of President Kennedy. While the nation was plunged into a collective grief, Dorothy’s family was struggling with their own terrible tragedy. Indeed, their loss had rendered them all so emotionally vulnerable that the president’s death seemed to affect them more grievously than it otherwise would have. Dorothy had loved her father so dearly, and she still missed him so very much and thought of his loving nature constantly.

Babe and Gloria were married in 1924; and their daughters were born in 1925 (Ginger), 1928 (Dorothy), and 1930 (Bethany). Their third daughter had arrived not long after the stock market crash that ushered in The Great Depression. Since Babe and Gloria were ordinary people of very slim means with three little girls to care for, they had come close to giving Dorothy to Gloria’s brother and sister-in-law to raise, but in the end they decided to keep all three children together and to do their best in providing for them.

Since the two younger sisters were only a year and a half apart in age, Dorothy and Bethany were inseparable during their youth, but they were about as different as they could be. Bethany was a real tomboy and ready to do or try anything. Dorothy, on the other hand, was much more the proper little lady whom Bethany was always dragging into her latest cooked-up mischief. Dorothy inherited from her father his characteristic qualities of goodness and sweetness, the likes of which were so rare and fine. As Dorothy grew up, these traits became increasingly evident and were combined with intelligence and strength of character to make her a truly extraordinary young woman. Because of the similarities in their overall personality Dorothy had always been her father’s favorite daughter, so much so that he was unable to conceal his favoritism. Uncle Les shared much of Babe’s youthful and playful spirit, and he recognized the same in his niece Dorothy. Consequently, his decision to designate her as his sole heir and executor of his will was a resounding testimony to how very special and truly magnificent she was.

Perhaps the greatest joy of Dorothy’s youth had been music. Her family was too poor to afford musical instruments or music lessons of any sort, but they did have a radio that served as Dorothy’s teacher of the popular music of the day. She possessed a real knack for learning melodies and the words of songs and was constantly singing songs that she learned from the radio. As she grew up, she acquired a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of contemporary music. Singing seemed to be not only a natural gift, but also an expression of her innate inner joy and beautiful personality. As she began to physically mature during her teen years, her singing ability became quite considerable, and her voice was feminine, rich, and so perfectly expressive of her charm and grace.

Throughout her years in elementary, junior high, and high school Dorothy exhibited a keen intellect and an eagerness to learn and excel, especially in literature and history. But when she approached her parents with the idea of her going to college, for about the first time in her life she found herself disappointed with her loving and beloved mother and father. Despite her obvious academic proclivities, they countered her desire to attend college on three grounds: first of all, it would be rather expensive; secondly, since neither Ginger nor Bethany were the least bit interested in going to college, funding Dorothy alone for higher education would be seen by her sisters as gross favoritism; and thirdly, even if she were to attend college, chances were that she would soon meet some nice young man and would wind up marrying him before ever earning a degree. So, like most other young females of her day, Dorothy found her future prospects to consist of working small jobs, such as an usherette in a theater and a bookkeeper at a small business, as well as dating, so as to find the right guy to marry.

By the time that Dorothy graduated from high school in 1946, she had already had her share of eager suitors. Not only did she possess such a charming and gracious personality and disposition, but she was also quite a beautiful young woman: five feet three and a half inches tall, weighing just under one hundred pounds, slim and curvaceous, long lovely brown hair, beautiful green eyes, and a flawless complexion so fair that she sunburned easily. She eventually met George Patterson, who was four years older, had served in the US military during World War II, and had grown up in nearby Deerfield. After a courtship of several months, they were married in the spring of 1947, on the silver anniversary of George’s parents. Dorothy’s younger sister Bethany married Richard Decker six months later. Their oldest sister Ginger had married Jim Lawson two years earlier. Their first child, James Junior, became the first of Babe and Gloria’s several grandchildren.

All three of these young couples, the Pattersons, Deckers, and Lawsons, continued to live in and around Homewood and formed a slowly growing circle of the Klingners, brothers-in-law, and grandchildren. In his usual open-hearted manner, Babe insisted that all three of his married daughters and their husbands spend every Sunday afternoon at their house. The event began with Gloria, assisted by her daughters, setting out a magnificent Sunday dinner around noon, followed by relaxation, much talking, and various forms of amusement, such as playing pinochle. These Sunday afternoon get-togethers pleased Babe to no end and forged strong and loving bonds among them all.

Dorothy kept her job as a bookkeeper for a small manufacturer of auto parts until she gave birth to her first child Sally in 1951. Wesley was born two years later in 1953. After earning his architecture degree, George was hired by Glenn L. Martin Aircraft in Baltimore, Maryland, which obliged them to move away from their families. This was the first of what turned out to be many moves throughout Dorothy’s life.

While in Baltimore, Dorothy’s family lived in a brand-new residential area full of young families like themselves with many small children, an ideal environment for Sally and Wesley. As happened throughout her entire life, no matter where she lived, Dorothy’s personality succeeded in attracting lasting friends to herself like a magnet attracts iron filings. Her disposition was so vibrant, charming, and gracious. In whatever situation she found herself, her natural inclination was always to go above and beyond the normal call of duty to put people at ease and to do them a kindness. She was rarely heard to complain, but always stressed and sought out the positive, and never gossiped. Added to her sunny disposition was an endearingly whimsical and humorous nature that usually succeeded in turning every ordinary daily activity or situation into a joyous and enjoyable occasion. In short, one would have been hard-pressed to discover a person more selfless, loving, and lovable than Dorothy. Like her father, she opened her home and heart to any and all; and the neighborhood children became so accustomed to her kindness and generosity that they would come into the Pattersons’ yard and ask, Miss Dorothy, have you made any cookies for us today? She often had, and the children were always welcome to them.

Since the Pattersons had now left the loving circle of relatives and in-laws that they had formed in Homewood, Dorothy began a practice that continued throughout the rest of her life: writing long informative letters to her parents and other close friends. Dorothy now set aside a portion of every Sunday afternoon to write her letters, at least one a week to her parents to keep them abreast of how and what they were all doing. Dorothy found letter writing to be not the least bit difficult or irksome. Rather, it was a real joy and served as an important means of self-expression, allowing her to utilize her knack for language and permitting her with a cathartic medium for venting her thoughts and feelings. Babe and Gloria came to look forward to the arrival of Dorothy’s long weekly letter; and oftentimes Babe came into the house from the mailbox announcing, We have another book from Dorothy!

Dorothy developed another Sunday tradition during these Baltimore years that she also continued for the rest of her life. After coming home from services at their church, Dorothy prepared a very nice noontime dinner at which both the parents and children ate properly with good manners and behaved themselves. The tone and mood of this occasion were what George introduced from his own family tradition, whereas the splendid meal always represented to Dorothy those early years of her marriage when she and George enjoyed the hospitality of her parents. Dorothy balanced the formality of the noontime dinner with the other half of the family’s weekly Sunday tradition. Sunday supper henceforth became a time of special treats that the children enjoyed so much. Dorothy popped corn for everyone and often made a batch of fudge to go along with the popcorn, and everyone had soda as their beverage.

Dorothy’s third and last child, Carol, was born in 1957. Her birth came ten years after her parents’ marriage, and it was at this time that Dorothy began to realize that she no longer loved George, but like so many other women of the day, who were living at a time when divorce was largely socially unacceptable, her only really viable option was to remained married and to lavish her affection and attention upon her three children to ensure that they would have a stable and loving home environment in which to develop.

George remained with Glenn L. Martin for just four years before making the first of his many changes in employment. While he proceeded to Seattle, Washington, to receive clearance and training for government work through Boeing, Dorothy and the three children returned to Homewood. This period of separation from George confirmed Dorothy’s realization that she was no longer attracted at all to George and did not miss him in the least. She further came to understand that the children also seemed to be happier in his absence.

George’s and Dorothy’s parents had raised them very differently. George’s folks had been very authoritarian, expecting their children to obey their parents unquestioningly. It was not that Dorothy’s parents had reared her and her siblings without discipline, but Babe and Gloria had tempered it with love and kindness and had always given their children considerable leeway; and of course, Babe had actually been rather indulgent, especially when the children were quite young. These two differing parenting styles were clearly reflected in Dorothy’s and George’s personalities and led to constant friction as the children grew up, and as their parents needed to makes all sorts of decisions about what they could and could not do, and how they should do it. Dorothy had very definite standards of behavior and responsibility that she expected of her children, but given her intelligence and unerring judgment in virtually everything involving human interaction, she was also very understanding, reasonable, and flexible. George, on the other hand, tended to view things in rather simple terms and expected his judgment and decisions to be accepted without question. As a result, rearing their three children had gradually developed into a contest of parental wills; and since George became very disagreeable toward everyone whenever he did not get his way, Dorothy had slowly learned that in order to keep peace in the family and to prevent George from taking his aggravation out on the children, she usually had to let him have his way, but because he was often not at home, Dorothy was largely able to handle things as she saw fit. Living back in Homewood, therefore, near her parents and two sisters and their families, while George was away in Seattle, proved to be a welcome extended vacation of sorts.

But in the spring of 1961 Dorothy and the children rejoined George for about four months in Seattle. In later years Dorothy’s most vivid memory of this segment of her life was the majestic beauty of Mount Rainier that she could see from her kitchen window, and upon whose majesty she gazed every day as she stood at the sink doing the dishes. But they were soon relocated to Great Falls, Montana, from which George went out as a field engineer for the building of Minuteman Missile silos. There they lived in a trailer court provided by Boeing, and Dorothy and the other wives became fond friends, helped one another with their children, and did some of their daily chores together, such as washing and drying their family’s clothes in a trailer set up to serve as their laundromat. While living here, Dorothy and George became good friends with their church minister and wife, Roger and Olive Robinson, who were so kind and open-hearted. The wife was the daughter of the prominent Church historian, Roland Bainton. The friendship between the two couples was responsible for both George and Dorothy becoming very active participants in church affairs. Dorothy now began to teach Sunday school for the younger children, for which her grace and charm, intelligence, and beautiful appearance and smile were so well suited. Then in late 1962 Boeing relocated the Patterson family to Kimball, Nebraska, where George continued his work as a field engineer for the Minuteman Missile silos. During these years in Montana and Nebraska George and Dorothy took the kids on various outings to explore the wonders of this region of the country. They visited Yellowstone Park, Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and other places. But Dorothy daily found beauty in her surroundings, especially while living in Montana, as she carried out her routine chores of ironing clothes, preparing meals, and looking after the children: for so many of her days began and ended with the dazzling beauty of a Big Sky Country sunrise and sunset.

While living in another Boeing trailer court, George and Dorothy became fond friends of John and Doris Thompson. The two men took the first step toward forming a business partnership by building and selling a house while they were still employed by Boeing. They both, however, eventually quit their jobs with Boeing and went into fulltime business for themselves by forming a construction company in Kimball. TP Construction, taking its name from Thompson and Patterson, soon failed and went bankrupt, leaving both families financially high and dry. In the aftermath of this disaster Dorothy’s parents regularly sent them money as they could afford, but the Pattersons’ situation remained precarious and very stressful for all until George was able to find a new job. This one brought them back to Illinois and not too far south from Dorothy’s relatives and friends in Homewood, as well as not too far away from Newton, where George’s parents were now living. Consequently, in the spring of 1965 the Patterson family left Kimball and arrived in University City, Illinois, where they hoped to do well in making a fresh start with George being employed by the Curtis Construction Corporation (CCC).

University City is located in central Illinois, south of Chicago, surrounded by the flat prairie whose rich black soil produced corn and soy beans in great abundance. At this time University City boasted a population of several tens of thousands. As indicated by its name, the city was the home of one of the state’s major universities. The whole community therefore had the character of a college town; and when classes were in session during the fall and spring semesters, the community received a sizable infusion of students.

For the next two and a half years, until they succeeded in having their own new home built, the Pattersons lived at 1712 Yale Drive in southwest University City. Although living in Baltimore and the western states had been quite an adventure, Dorothy was so glad to be once again within relatively easy driving distance of Homewood, so that she could visit relatives and old friends frequently, and they could visit her. But she also often thought of the many good friends whom she had made in different places over the past ten years. Not being able to see them again saddened her, and she vowed to stay in touch with them by exchanging letters. George was employed by CCC to build and sell churches; and his work regularly took him out onto the road for the entire week, traveling throughout his designated region of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, but occasionally he had to travel as far east as West Virginia and western Pennsylvania. As a result, Dorothy was often the only parent at home to watch over and care for the three children, whose different ages, interests, and needs kept her fully occupied.

Although Sally, Wesley, and Carol had the same parents, they had very different personalities and inclinations, and rearing all three under the same roof was both daunting and educational. Why wasn’t part of the pregnancy deal to have the parents-to-be to come before an all-knowing panel of experts whose duty was to inform them of what was going to be in store for them, not only for the next eighteen years, but probably for the rest of their lives? The child would be amenable to their guidance and upbringing in some things, but in other things the parents would be fighting an on-going and, likely to be, largely futile battle to reshape certain unpleasant innate traits into something that they were not. Instead, having and raising children basically involved on-the-job training for the parents. As Dorothy’s three children matured and began to exhibit fundamental personality traits that were either positive and thus perfectly acceptable or somehow negative and requiring varying degrees of parental strategizing and accommodation, Dorothy gradually learned the true wisdom encapsulated in the serenity prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference between the two. Dorothy wrote these words in one of her favorite books of sayings, so that it could remind her periodically of its sound advice. Unfortunately, the prayer was also all too apt for her unhappy marriage, but by now Dorothy’s own innate traits of goodness, sweetness, intelligence, and consummate grace and charm had produced in her an incomparable diplomatic talent to bring serenity and calm out of chaos and turbulence and to top it off with the most beautiful and engaging smile, even when she was often hurting or seething inside.

Since the family had moved from Kimball to University City during the course of the children’s school year, the kids had to be taken out of their familiar school environment and inserted into a new one. Sally and Wesley had succeeded in making the transition without too much trouble. They had finished out respectively their eighth and sixth grades after coming to University City, and they were now in their freshman and seventh-grade years. Sally was an average student and possessed personality traits quite the opposite of those of her mother. She was very self-centered and often fractious; and it was often difficult to get her to cooperate in doing things around the house. When confronted with things that she did not wish or had no interest in doing, her normal response was to do things half-heartedly (and usually slovenly), to sulk, and quite often to become argumentative and disagreeable.

Wesley seemed to be quite gifted intellectually, was not the least bit athletic, but rather adept at and interested in music. While they were living in Great Falls, they had purchased a piano; and Dorothy, Sally, and Wesley had begun to take lessons. Sally had also learned to play the violin for the school’s orchestra, but she was not all that enthusiastic about it. Wesley had taken up the saxophone for his school band, and he seemed to be genuinely interested in developing his musical talent. His actual performance in school, however, left much to be desired. Although he possessed his mother’s innate sweetness of character and had acquired from her very early a real love of reading, he hated homework, and Dorothy and George struggled mightily with him to try to have him develop the necessary self-discipline and motivation to do his work diligently, well, and in a timely fashion. Unfortunately for Wesley, he took after his father in chaffing at rules and authority, wanted to be his own boss, consistently procrastinated, and always seemed to leave everything in a disorderly mess. Trying to keep Sally and Wesley on the straight and narrow against their natural inclinations tested Dorothy’s maternal love and ingenuity on a daily basis.

Carol, her youngest, however, posed an entirely different kind of challenge. She possessed her mother’s natural goodness and sweetness and was so eager to please. She was never happier than when helping her mother around the house, so much so that Dorothy had to place limits on what she should do, because otherwise, Carol would want to do all the work. It was just the opposite with Sally. Carol was perfectly content to be a homebody, to have her mother teach her how to do various domestic things (such as sewing and ironing), and to be under Dorothy’s loving, patient, and instructive guidance, but per progress through the early grades of her formal education became problematic and was never fully resolved; and this on-going problem was the source of tremendous heartache for Dorothy and frustration for Carol. During their last autumn in Kimball Carol had entered the second grade, but she had to have her tonsils removed; and as the result of a precarious convalescence, she had missed quite a bit of school and failed to develop her ability to read as well as she needed to. The situation became much worse when she tried to finish out second grade in University City. The school system in Kimball taught children to read by the whole-word method, whereas grade schools in University City taught reading by phonics. Carol had not sufficiently caught on to the former before being subjected to the latter. The result was a very confused child, who, the school experts insisted, must repeat second grade.

Years earlier, Dorothy’s parents had faced a similar situation with their youngest child Timothy; and the clash then between parents and school personnel now prompted Gloria to advise Dorothy and George not to accept the school’s diagnosis, but to urge that Carol be allowed to enter the third grade with her classmates. In the end, however, the school experts insisted that they knew what was best, and Carol was now repeating second grade and receiving special instruction outside her regular classroom.

All this occurred in the days before much was done to diagnose learning difficulties and to integrate solutions into the normal school environment. By now, because of the conspicuousness of her special treatment, Carol’s classmates were beginning to call her unkind names, and she was becoming increasingly discouraged and traumatized by school, so much so that this sweet little girl often woke up in the morning with a stomachache from the stress of having to face another unhappy and frustrating day at school. Dorothy spent considerable time with Carol in trying to help her learn how to read by the phonics method, but her effort and patience largely went for naught. Consequently, Carol was always lagging behind in her formal education, and this produced so much anguish for both Carol and her loving mother, who cherished the child’s genuine good-heartedness and quickness in learning domestic things.

February 14, 1966, Monday

Dorothy sat alone at the kitchen table, clad in her pajamas and robe and slowly working her way through a second cup of coffee. It was 10:00 A.M. The kids were all in school, and George had also left early this morning and would be gone all week traveling about to various work sites in Indiana. True to her most loving nature and constant concern for her children, Dorothy needed to get herself going, to get out of the house to buy some nice little Valentine’s Day gifts for Sally, Wesley, and Carol to surprise them when they arrived home later in the afternoon.

Dorothy had arrived home last evening, after spending the weekend at Mercy Hospital. She had admitted herself Friday late afternoon into the mental ward for consultation and observation, but by late Sunday afternoon she had become so uneasy about her surroundings that she had discharged herself and driven back to the house. Given the popular stigma attached to mental illness, no one except George knew of Dorothy’s admittance into the mental ward. They had decided to tell the children that their mother had gone to Homewood for a while to help her mother.

Dorothy’s inner crisis had been brought on by a combination of things. The first severe hammer blow had been her father’s death, and a second one soon followed with the ignominious collapse of TP Construction in Kimball. Though severe and traumatic, Dorothy had weathered the chaos and upheaval caused by these disasters quite well until they had arrived in University City. The third gigantic hammer blow to her psyche was Carol’s difficulty in school that had gradually worsened during the past few months. But even that too Dorothy had been able to endure, although it rent her maternal heart so much. The final hammer blow that had finally done her in had been a steady barrage of telephone calls from creditors in Kimball. Since George was usually gone during the work week, Dorothy was the one who was left at home to receive these calls. TP Construction’s bankruptcy had left many people holding the bag; and when creditors called the Patterson residence in University City, they were invariably rude, crude, nasty, threatening, and insulting. Even before their hounding had begun, Dorothy had long felt tremendous guilt and shame over the financial collapse of George’s and John Thompson’s partnership. In her worldview in which decency reigned supreme, people did not back out of their obligations. Gloria had tried to assuage her daughter’s guilt and shame by pointing out that the bankers had no one but themselves to blame. They were in the business of estimating and taking calculated risks. They had decided to loan George and John Thompson the necessary seed money to get them started in their small construction business, while knowing full well that the two men did not have any sizable savings upon which they could rely if things began to get tough.

This argument had been some solace to Dorothy until recent months when the nasty and threatening telephone calls had begun. It became so bad that she had begun to cringe every time the phone rang, and she had to answer it alone there in the house. Usually, by the time the creditor had finished with her, she was in tears and felt so miserable. This relentless campaign of telephone calls had been the last hard hammer blow responsible for her seeking refuge this past weekend in the mental ward. There were, of course, other smaller hammer blows that had made their own contributions as well. Rather than providing her with a source of emotional and mental comfort, her marriage to George added to her unhappiness and frustration. They disagreed on so many things, especially concerning the kids; and although she was relieved to have him out of the house and on the road, where he could not pester her (sex had long been nothing more than another one of her necessary and most disagreeable chores), his chronic absence foisted upon her virtually all responsibilities for maintaining a nice house, watching after three very active kids, and constantly being on the run to get them to and from their various activities. It was really quite a bit for one person to handle under normal circumstances.

Dorothy had felt badly about abandoning her children while seeking refuge in the hospital, but she had reached a point at which she had realized that if she wanted to continue caring for them, she needed to reach out for help before totally breaking down and then being of use to no one. She had explained her troubles to a psychiatrist, who had prescribed tranquilizers to help her relax; and the medication had made her feel better there in the hospital, but as she moved about the floor on Saturday and Sunday, she had encountered patients who were truly mentally disturbed, and this had really frightened her. She worried that if she hung around here very long, she might begin to be like them. Accordingly, by Sunday afternoon she had resolved to herself that no matter how bad things became in her domestic situation, she would never allow herself to sink so low that she would need to return to a place like this again. Her children needed their mother, and henceforth she would persevere to be there, no matter what!

Chapter 2

Dorothy’s Diary

August 9, 1966, Tuesday

Dorothy stood at the kitchen sink washing the supper dishes and placing them in the dish drainer. She was also singing along with one of her numerous albums that was playing on the phonograph. Right now it happened to be Sons of the Pioneers, one of her father’s favorite groups; and they were singing Ghost Riders in the Sky. As usual, singing lifted her spirits; and for the past several weeks she had been playing her records a few hours almost every day, even some of her Christmas music. In her view it was never too early or too late to play those cheerful uplifting songs. Although the kids teased her about her choice of music (which included the Andrews Sisters, the Mills Brothers, Mitch Miller, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Burl Ives, and the sound tracks of various musicals, such as Oklahoma, Music Man, Flower Drum Song, The Sound of Music, etc.), they enjoyed it too, and Dorothy often heard them singing and moving in time to the music. It made the whole house somewhat brighter.

They had now been living in University City for about a year and a half, and everyone in the family was fairly well adjusted into their new situation. George’s job was going along well. The worst days of the recent past appeared to be behind them, and a new brighter future seemed to be on their horizon.

George and Dorothy were once again fully involved in the affairs of their new church. George was always serving on some committee or board, whereas Dorothy was teaching second grade Sunday school, was a member of the Women’s Social Concerns Society (including its executive committee), participated in a Wednesday reading and discussion group, and was always willing to pitch in to organize different social activities. The children too were active in their own church functions and groups that were appropriate for their ages.

Both George and Dorothy had been raised in a church environment, but as with so many other things, their experiences and views with respect to Christianity were quite different. George and his parents had a rather fundamentalist view of everything biblical. whereas Dorothy and her family had always taken a non-literal view of such things. In fact, Dorothy could never become interested in the whole concept of a Last Judgment and a heaven and hell. She could not even bring herself to embrace the idea of Jesus as the Son of God. The notion really took a leap of faith, one that she simply could not bring herself to perform. Thus, Jesus’ divinity was something about which she did not trouble herself. She did, however, greatly respect Jesus as a teacher of ethics, morality, and especially love and common decency in dealing with one’s fellow human beings. To her, those things formed the real value and meaning of Christianity; and she attempted to conduct her life in accordance with what Jesus had called the greatest commandment, to love God with all one’s heart and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. Indeed, one would have been hard-pressed to find anyone who better embodied and lived according to this principle, but telling Dorothy this to her face would have surprised and embarrassed her greatly.

During the previous spring, as Wesley was finishing the eighth grade, he had run afoul of his father’s fundamentalist beliefs when he let it be known that he was being taught biological evolution in his science class. George had hit the roof, and he and his son had engaged in some very heated arguments. Dorothy had simply stood aside from the confrontation, figuratively shaking her head in disgust at her husband’s blockheadedness. To his credit, Wesley had stood his ground and had not allowed his father to browbeat him into accepting his fundamentalist views. Dorothy inwardly beamed with pride to see her son hold his own in the verbal combat.

The family’s involvement in their church had had other interesting ramifications. The Pattersons had agreed to serve regularly as a host family for a foreign student who was sponsored by their Church to study in the U.S., and who was enrolled in classes right there in University City at the university. The idea was to provide the person with various kinds of help in running errands and to give them a kind of home away from home by having them over to their house on a fairly regular basis to have a home-cooked meal, to chat about things, and simply to relax in a genuine family setting. The program was tailor-made for Dorothy’s open-hearted nature and willingness to assist anyone in need.

As if all her church related activities were not enough, Dorothy had also been doing some community-based volunteer work for senior citizens. When their church had been asked to call for helpers, Dorothy had stepped forward and had her name placed on the list of volunteers. The service involved placing telephone calls to senior citizens to remind them of appointments or to check on them to make sure that they were doing ok. Her name as a prospective volunteer had then found its way to the Rehabilitation Center at the university. Someone there had recently called to see if she would also be interested in becoming a volunteer reader for one of their many blind students. She readily agreed; and after answering questions as to what subjects she thought herself well suited to read, she was informed that when the fall semester began in about a month, she would be hearing from a student interested in having her as his or her reader, probably for one two-hour session every week.

When Dorothy placed the last clean dish in the drainer, she dried her hands and went into the master bedroom. All the kids had scattered in different directions after eating supper; and as usual, George was out of town in connection with his job. She was therefore all alone in the house except for the company of her beloved German Shepherd Fraulein that had been her constant companion since her puppyhood two years before in Kimball, Nebraska. Dorothy opened up her drawer of lingerie and pulled out from the very bottom a spiral notebook. She then propped herself up on the bed in a comfortable sitting position, opened the notebook to the page with the last bit of writing on it, paused to compose her thoughts, and then began to write. In the meantime Fraulein had settled herself down on the floor beside the bed.

About five years ago when they were living in Montana, Dorothy had begun to keep a journal in which she recorded her daily activities, those of other family members, and her own thoughts and feelings. The journal provided her with a valuable outlet for self-expression. As a wife and mother of three very active children, she was constantly giving and providing for others, even more so than the average housewife, in part because George was gone so much and was not available to share the domestic burdens, and in part because Dorothy’s basic nature impelled her to see to other people’s needs. But few people ever worried much about her needs.

She had already filled three good-size spiral notebooks with her writing and was now working on a fourth one. Since she had never had a place in which she could keep these writings locked securely away from other members of the family, especially George, she had always been rather circumspect about fully expressing her thoughts. Consequently, her innermost feelings concerning her marriage were always expressed in very cryptic and guarded language, a kind of personal code to herself; and there was much that she dared not even write down at all from fear of detection. Thus far, however, as best as she could tell, George still did not know that she had been writing in a journal, because she did so when she was all alone, and she kept the books hidden away in a place where George was unlikely to be looking around for something.

Although there had necessarily been occasional short gaps in her journal because of her very busy domestic life, her troubled state of mind during the previous winter had obliged her to leave off writing altogether for a period of about ten months. There had simply been too many other more pressing matters that had demanded all her energy and attention. But she had finally emerged from that awful time and was largely her old wonderful self again. Everything was now pretty much under control, and she was beginning to have odds and ends of free time for herself. It was only natural then that she now resume writing in her journal. As in the past, the effort would be both cathartic and would allow her to give some kind of meaning and purpose to her life, which so often to her seemed nothing more than a chaotic and endless succession of daily chores and duties in the service of others.

Her handwriting was clear with an obvious feminine grace, enhanced by the fact that she used pens of different colored ink as her mood and whimsy prompted her. Even though she wrote everything down spontaneously, the pages were free of cross-outs, false starts, marginal insertions, or attempted erasures. There was nothing there except her neat flowing script, word after word, composed in a simple and often telegraphic style, resulting from the fact that the entries were usually rapid jottings made during bits and pieces of her scarce free time. Even misspellings were non-existent. In short, the journal entries were manifestations of the intelligence and flare for language that she had exhibited since high school.

The overwhelming bulk of the journal was a record of daily routine events and activities that comprise the largest part of everyone’s life. But this somewhat monotonous record of routine things was a striking testimony to Dorothy’s exemplary parenting of her children. Her level of energy and caring was colossal and so rarely encountered; and what she did not expend on her children was lavished upon other relatives, friends, and acquaintances. The journal also charted the children’s slow progress toward adulthood (such as Sally obtaining her driver’s permit and Wesley attending his first party of both girls and boys), the family’s interaction with their Patterson and Klingner relatives, and so many other large and small happenings, such as the building of their new house at 1801 Rachel Drive, just a few blocks away from where they were currently living. It would take nearly a year for the house to be built, and then it would be more than another year before all the minor details were finally completed.

Perhaps most important of all, however, the journal was the regular venue for Dorothy to express her innermost feelings and frustrations. Despite her most valiant efforts to guide the kids in proper directions, things so often never worked out as she hoped. The kids were regularly bearing out the truth of that old adage about bringing a horse to water but not being able to make it drink. Consequently, Dorothy often felt defeated and succumbed to self-doubt in thinking that she must be a failure as a parent. But by all objective standards she was an ideal parent, as the record of the journal so fully documented. She had no definite goals or ambitions for any of her three children. She simply wanted them to become interested in worth-while pursuits, to reach their full potential, and to be happy, well-adjusted people. She exerted so much of her daily thoughts and energy in supporting them in whatever way they needed. Although they often fell short of her optimistic expectations, all three children were perfectly aware of their mother’s magnificent love for them, and they all usually reciprocated in kind.

Her biggest source of inner misery, of course, was her unhappy marriage with George. But she was really not sure what had caused their marriage to founder, and what, if anything, could be done to improve it. She often sought refuge and solace in prayer and religious meditation, but they never brought her genuine happiness. About all that they could do was to urge her to accept her unhappy lot and to hope that God might someday deign to bless her personal life unexpectedly. Eventually, however, her learning to swim and her singing in Sweet Adelines provided her with new valuable outlets for her talent and energy, and her own personal success in these pursuits began to form within her a totally new sense of self-worth that had nothing to do with her children and husband.

Author’s Note: Here follows a series of verbatim extracts from Dorothy’s hand-written journal in which she describes her life, thoughts, and feelings in her own words, covering the four-year period August of 1966 to August of 1970. Brackets are used to enclose explanatory phrases or comments inserted by the author.

Journal Entries

Aug. 9, 1966 (Tuesday): Have been feeling lately that I want to write things down in a book, like I used to. The last time that I wrote was on October 1, 1965, almost a year ago. It has been a terrible year, and I hope that things are on their way up. Many things have happened this past year. I will try to remember as much as I can to write it down, but the events will not be in order. My memory jumps around too much. We’re still in the house on Yale Drive. I hate this house, and I don’t really know why. I don’t even think that I like University City, which is silly, because it is a nice town. Mom, Ginger, and Bethany all feel that we should move back to where they live, but I am not sure that that would be the best thing either. Tim is in Pearl Harbor, has been since Jan. or February, I guess. On December 6 mom, Bethany, and I flew to Charleston, South Carolina for the commissioning of his ship, the USS Davidson. The ceremony was on December 7 and was very nice, also very cold, damp, and windy. Had cake and coffee and a tour of the ship. We flew back home about 7:00 A.M. on December 8. Ellen, Stanley, Lawrence, and David [George’s sister-in-law and her sons, fathered by George’s sole sibling Fred, who had died suddenly of a heart attack in 1962] came [from Sout Carolina] to University City for Christmas (should say, before Christmas), and we all drove down to Newton [Illinois, home of George’s parents] for a week. It was a wonderful week. We all enjoyed being together. George’s company closes during Christmas week. The boys [Ellen’s sons] were disappointed that we didn’t have any snow while they were here. New Year’s weekend we went to Homewood, because Tim was home on leave. In the spring I taught Georgia Samson how to drive. Should say that we taught her, because about twenty years ago she had a license. She got her license at the end of April. I didn’t do much with the piano, made a stab at it, playing and practicing it. Quit completely in March. Wesley joined the YMCA in October or November and started judo lessons. In January or February started Carol with a tutor, hoping that it would help her learn to read. She went three afternoons a week after school for 45 minutes. We stopped the lessons at the end of May, because the school psychologist said that she was under too much strain.

Aug. 10, 1966 (Wednesday): Rained most all day today. It was most welcome, because this has been a very dry summer. Most crops have not grown because of the dryness. Carol had to miss her swimming lesson today. She has two weeks of lessons at the high school Pool, 45 minutes lessons for $2.50. Took Carol to the orthodontist today. In May I took her to Dr. Lord, and he started treatment in on her. She has several things wrong with her mouth, mostly upper teeth. Today was Wesley’s last day at summer school: band. They had their concert at 6:00 P.M. at the junior high. It was very good. We were home by 8:00 P.M. George is out of town. He left Monday and will return Saturday. Wesley stayed up to watch The Late Show. I slept on the couch until he went to bed.

Aug. 11, 1966 (Thursday): George called at 7:15 A.M. He was supposed to call last night, but his meeting lasted too long. Wesley mowed the back yard, Sally vacuumed the rugs, Carol took swimming lessons. The expansion band on Carol’s appliance wouldn’t stay in, so I had to take Carol to Dr. Lord. Then took Sally to Dr. Hanson for her regular appointment. Stopped at Smith’s and picked up $8.75, which the WSCS [Women’s Social Concerns Society for the Church] contributed for each child going to camp. Had Wesley change clothes, and we all went to the shopping center. Wesley and Carol got new shoes. Sally got a new dress. We ate supper at the drug store. Wesley went to a Boy Scout meeting at our church. He thinks he will join the troop. To bed at 10:00 P.M.

Aug. 12, 1966 (Friday): Forgot to mention that yesterday about noon one of our mamma guppies had babies while we watched. She had about twenty. Once two came out and looked like they were Siamese twins. We watched them quite a while, and then they disappeared. Mamma must have eaten them as she did several others. They were in a guppy breeder, but the babies didn’t stay below as they are supposed to. This morning they were all dead except for one guppy baby. About ten babies were missing. So, the mother must have eaten them. Wesley went on a Boy Scout hike this morning, ate lunch at Steve Glaser’s house, played tennis at Herb McCoy’s, and came home about 5:00 P.M. Carol had last swimming lesson. Ricardo Flores, our Filipino student [foreign college student for whom Dorothy’s family was serving as a host through their church] came over about 4:00 P.M. with some place mats that his wife had sent us. He left when I took Sally to Mercy Hospital for Candy Striping. She goes at 5:00 P.M. and is through between 6:30 and 7:00 P.M. Watched TV and went to bed about 10:00 P.M.

Aug. 13, 1966 (Saturday): Gloomy and rain and cool all morning. Ironed. Carol and Sally ironed too. Carol would iron everything if I’d let her. George got home about 1:00 P.M. I Went to the grocery store. Kids watched TV all morning.

Aug. 14, 1966 (Sunday): Went to 9:00 A.M. church. There is no church school during August [Dorothy normally had a Sunday school class that she