I got married in September, 1967 in Waveland, Mississippi at St. Clare's Catholic Church (now leveled by Katrina). My Daddy promised my husband Terry O'Brien and me $10K and an impala convertible if I didn't get married at the Country Club (which cost a lot more). My sister had had a wedding for 1,000 people at the Country Club the year before. For years my mother had kept a file of wedding invitations--so she could send all the people she had sent gifts--invitations to my sister's wedding and get gifts.
I married because that's what you did after college and i wanted to Hollywood and be a movie star and the $10K plus a new impala would get me and my husband there. It was pouring down rain my wedding day and the nurse who had raised me wrapped me and my bridesmaids (Kathie Pearse, Mary Brent, Dale Nix, and Ann Preaus) in sheets to get us from the big house to the limousines out front without being soaked. We had to drive from my parents' house on the Gulf to the Church. Mama had called all over Mississippi to find limousines and finally got ones mostly used for funerals to take us to the Church.
The rain had made me want to cancel the wedding. It was an omen but I married Terry anyway. Should I cancel the wedding I worried and run off to Europe? Yes, my heart told me. But Terry would go with me to Los Angeles and I was afraid to go alone and he was so good-looking people already thought he was a star and that made me feel important and we had had everything but penetration for sex.
The doctors and lawyers that I dated all wanted me to be a Housewife--the word itself made me feel trapped. So Terry who was a dreamer would give me two gorgeous children and go with me anywhere because he really didn't plan to work. In California, friends said they saw him on the beach surfing.
I stayed with Terry seven years for better or worse, always embarrassed when people asked me what my husband did. He was "finding himself" that was the term he used. I came from a family of doctors and lawyers had never known a man who wasn't ambitious and direct so I believed Terry for seven years was looking for work, through a life in Hollywood to a PhD at UCLA. That was easier to nail than a lead role in a Hollywood film.
Then a daughter arrived, Rachelle. I was thrilled as my biggest fear as a southern woman was that I couldn't get pregnant. After we moved to Princeton, NJ and s after my son was born, I evicted Terry when Barret was 3 months old, got a Catholic annulment and started dating my neighbor across the street, another handsome charming Irishman Dick O'Neill.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
October 11, 2008
Been missing New Orleans In October. Guess it's like spring there. Here in NYC the tops of trees are dying turning red, yellow, white. And some small bushes are all red. In New Orleans we never had fall. Always oak trees full of greens and lush grey moss. I understand you lost quite a few oak trees during hurricane Katrina. All of the oaks that stood before my parents mansion on the Gulf Coast survived. After Katrina I'm told they looked burnt red and yellow but they made it. i wonder how the trees felt when they saw those 40 foot waves come rolling in. I still 3 years later haven't had the courage to go look at my parent's land now void of all buildings and the strip of destroyed land along the water. In my memory the vision of that beautiful Gulf Coast with its 500 palatial mansions still lives. I'm told now only 5 of the houses in truth remain.
October 9, 2008
Came back from NYC to Rhinecliff tonight on business class on Ambrack such a fast train that took me in less than 2 hours to this darling town. Reminds me of how in New orleans we used to communte weekends to the Mississippi Gulf Coast to my parents brick villa there-6 bedrooms 2 kitchens, 4 baths. I lived in a little cottage on the grounds that my parents built for my family a stucco red brick cottage which I called the rose cottage. Both the mansion (my parents referred to the big house as such) and the cottage were flattened by Katrina.
Anyway my friend Deborah's husband met me at the train and took me to my big house here. Bob wasn't back yet from Canada and in the old New Orleans tradition I was afraid to enter the big old house alone. My Grandma used to have her chauffeur enter her house also a mansion first and check under the beds and inside the closets before he left to be sure no burglar was hiding in the house. Am I reliving grandma or just a girl lady who lilkes to feel safe. I LOVE YOU.
Anyway my friend Deborah's husband met me at the train and took me to my big house here. Bob wasn't back yet from Canada and in the old New Orleans tradition I was afraid to enter the big old house alone. My Grandma used to have her chauffeur enter her house also a mansion first and check under the beds and inside the closets before he left to be sure no burglar was hiding in the house. Am I reliving grandma or just a girl lady who lilkes to feel safe. I LOVE YOU.
September 22, 2008
It's gotten cold here like 60 degrees, but I went out unprepared--sleeveless top and scarf and light jacket. I remember in New Orleans I didn't own a coat. Got rid of all my heavy wool skirts when I moved home from Princeton in 84.
We so rarely wore anything heavy. I didn't have any pull over sweaters because a day might start cool but usually ended hot. Yuck. Then cardigans weren't worn too much either. Mostly I took a light jacket and wore light cotton shirts. But here in NYC when it gets cold, it dives down and stays. Course that burst of cold does give you energy and makes you discover the seasons. Today was the first day of fall in New Orleans we pretty much had spring summer weather all year. I remember even using the air conditioning on Christmas,
We so rarely wore anything heavy. I didn't have any pull over sweaters because a day might start cool but usually ended hot. Yuck. Then cardigans weren't worn too much either. Mostly I took a light jacket and wore light cotton shirts. But here in NYC when it gets cold, it dives down and stays. Course that burst of cold does give you energy and makes you discover the seasons. Today was the first day of fall in New Orleans we pretty much had spring summer weather all year. I remember even using the air conditioning on Christmas,
September 17, 2008
The morming of Barret's birth. April 9m1974, I was alone in my apartment, the first floor of a double (really 2 parlors and a back hall) in Princeton, New Jersey. I thought I had gone into labor a few days before. And a friend of Dick's who was visiting came to my house and he was named Joey Butera. And he brought me to my doctor's office in downtown Princeton. Joey Butera had been Dick's best friend in college. He inherited his father's commercial art business in Boston and for some reason was visiting Dick. Dick lived across the street from Terry and me and was our friend.
Anyway I had gained almost 10 lbs with Barret and I had pains in my thighs. These fierce pains so I could hardly walk. I don't know where Terry was or where our car was. So I got Joey Butera to drive me to the doctor's. I don't know whether I went into labor that night but I believe the next morning they had me go the hospital to induce labor.
Jerry O'Brien Terry's mother was coming in from Indianapolis, Indiana. So the morning of April 9th it was a pretty day and I was driven to Princeton Hospital (by Terry I believe) and labor was induced. To do this they shoot some medicine in your veins to bring on labor. They did this but Barret was so big, he wouldn't come out, so they put a mask over my face and put me to sleep and cut me ope wider and took Barret out with a forceps.
i remember wakig up and hearing some nurse at the foot of the hospital bed say, "You have a son." i was so thrilled. I was teaching at that time at Rider College in Lawrenceville, New Jersey. Terry was going to school there nights to get his teaching certificate. (He could go free as my spouse). He wasn't working. That had me worried. But Rachelle was about 3 or 4 and I believe stayed with Terry and Jerry Obrien at the house. We lived at 43 Park Place one street off Nassau Street in the heart of Princeton. One ov my students at Rider came from a family that ran a floral shop and I remember being so happy because he and my students made sure that all my window ledge was full of flowers and then they had to bring in extra tables so I could have more.
I remember Barret had such a big head and pale hair and was such a beautiful big baby and how happy I was to have a son. Dick and his fiance Georgie sent me a beautiful spray of orchids and Mama sent me a huge basket of pink roses. And I got flowers from David Greenan and my agent Don Krintzman and all in all it was one of the happiest days of my life. I wore my hair in 2 high pony tails and had a blue nightgown my mother had bought me and I remember feeling sad that Barret would be my last child because Terry and I had thought 2 children was enough. And jerry O'brien was so pleased and said, "Well you have your family now." And Barret was already wearing sixe 3-6mos old yellow pajamas as a newborn at the hospirtal. I put a blue ribbon round his head for the pictures taken in te hospital.
At that time reltives and husbands weren't allowed in the operating room so I was wheeled in there alone.
Anyway I had gained almost 10 lbs with Barret and I had pains in my thighs. These fierce pains so I could hardly walk. I don't know where Terry was or where our car was. So I got Joey Butera to drive me to the doctor's. I don't know whether I went into labor that night but I believe the next morning they had me go the hospital to induce labor.
Jerry O'Brien Terry's mother was coming in from Indianapolis, Indiana. So the morning of April 9th it was a pretty day and I was driven to Princeton Hospital (by Terry I believe) and labor was induced. To do this they shoot some medicine in your veins to bring on labor. They did this but Barret was so big, he wouldn't come out, so they put a mask over my face and put me to sleep and cut me ope wider and took Barret out with a forceps.
i remember wakig up and hearing some nurse at the foot of the hospital bed say, "You have a son." i was so thrilled. I was teaching at that time at Rider College in Lawrenceville, New Jersey. Terry was going to school there nights to get his teaching certificate. (He could go free as my spouse). He wasn't working. That had me worried. But Rachelle was about 3 or 4 and I believe stayed with Terry and Jerry Obrien at the house. We lived at 43 Park Place one street off Nassau Street in the heart of Princeton. One ov my students at Rider came from a family that ran a floral shop and I remember being so happy because he and my students made sure that all my window ledge was full of flowers and then they had to bring in extra tables so I could have more.
I remember Barret had such a big head and pale hair and was such a beautiful big baby and how happy I was to have a son. Dick and his fiance Georgie sent me a beautiful spray of orchids and Mama sent me a huge basket of pink roses. And I got flowers from David Greenan and my agent Don Krintzman and all in all it was one of the happiest days of my life. I wore my hair in 2 high pony tails and had a blue nightgown my mother had bought me and I remember feeling sad that Barret would be my last child because Terry and I had thought 2 children was enough. And jerry O'brien was so pleased and said, "Well you have your family now." And Barret was already wearing sixe 3-6mos old yellow pajamas as a newborn at the hospirtal. I put a blue ribbon round his head for the pictures taken in te hospital.
At that time reltives and husbands weren't allowed in the operating room so I was wheeled in there alone.
September 16, 2008
Remembering breakfast on the first days of school in the fall in New Orleans. My famiy lived at 54 Fontainebleau Drive in New Orleans. •
• Breakfast in New Orleans:
The nurse/maid, Ella, made breakfast for four children. My mother slipped about drinking chicory black coffee from a demitasse cup, blue willowware. My sister and I in our upstairs-renovated attic room, raced downstairs, getting bacon sandwiches on toast, hurriedly pressed into aluminum foil. Often, Mary would say no. Aunt Roma (her three girls in the car) was out front tooting to pick us up to take us to Sacred Heart. Smells of bacon, butter, and toast. Mornings, I got up early, Ella would bring grits, bacon, eggs and toast upstairs.
Soon after, Mary and I raced out at 8:05 for 8:20 school. Ella went into the kitchen and set out Dad’s place for breakfast. He ate whenever he got up. Two pieces of fruit, a banana and an orange, dry toast, were carefully set out alongside the folded Times Picayune. The table was a mosaic of Don Quixote with a glass top and a floor to ceiling breakfast bureau on the wall of the dining room.
The kitchen had a swing door and Ella in maid’s uniform would swing in and out of the kitchen. Sometimes the door would hit you in the face if you didn’t hear help coming in from the other side.
On the stove was a cooked pound of bacon, a pot of grits, a tank of slow drip chicory coffee. The cook would make it the night before. You pour boiling water every few minutes into the top of the coffee pot and let is slowly drip. Coffee looked like black mud. It was kept in a jar in the refrigerator and watered down on the stove and heated up in a saucepan.
Sometimes, I would drink coffee with milk—milk mostly coffee in a water glass, room temperature.
• Breakfast in New Orleans:
The nurse/maid, Ella, made breakfast for four children. My mother slipped about drinking chicory black coffee from a demitasse cup, blue willowware. My sister and I in our upstairs-renovated attic room, raced downstairs, getting bacon sandwiches on toast, hurriedly pressed into aluminum foil. Often, Mary would say no. Aunt Roma (her three girls in the car) was out front tooting to pick us up to take us to Sacred Heart. Smells of bacon, butter, and toast. Mornings, I got up early, Ella would bring grits, bacon, eggs and toast upstairs.
Soon after, Mary and I raced out at 8:05 for 8:20 school. Ella went into the kitchen and set out Dad’s place for breakfast. He ate whenever he got up. Two pieces of fruit, a banana and an orange, dry toast, were carefully set out alongside the folded Times Picayune. The table was a mosaic of Don Quixote with a glass top and a floor to ceiling breakfast bureau on the wall of the dining room.
The kitchen had a swing door and Ella in maid’s uniform would swing in and out of the kitchen. Sometimes the door would hit you in the face if you didn’t hear help coming in from the other side.
On the stove was a cooked pound of bacon, a pot of grits, a tank of slow drip chicory coffee. The cook would make it the night before. You pour boiling water every few minutes into the top of the coffee pot and let is slowly drip. Coffee looked like black mud. It was kept in a jar in the refrigerator and watered down on the stove and heated up in a saucepan.
Sometimes, I would drink coffee with milk—milk mostly coffee in a water glass, room temperature.
September 15, 2008
•About my Aunt Mary. She wasn't an aunt at all. That's the south for you. It was a way to celebrate someone.
I've tried to turn my home on the Hudson River into a reflection of my past. White wicker chairs on my front porch in Rhinecliff mesh close together, paint crusted over. They have been in my family for so many years. And held the seats of the laughing and the sorrowful. Now they are transplanted to a porch not far from a busy street. Hilly land now. No Gulf in front of the house, no asazleas and oleandas growing but it safe to walk down the three faded steps to the car parked by my door. You can rest on the chairs faded orange cushions and feel the river on your face. It's just on the other side of the road and over a cliff.The town is called Rhinecliff. But the Hudson River never swells up and rolls over the cliff into the town.
I've tried to turn my home on the Hudson River into a reflection of my past. White wicker chairs on my front porch in Rhinecliff mesh close together, paint crusted over. They have been in my family for so many years. And held the seats of the laughing and the sorrowful. Now they are transplanted to a porch not far from a busy street. Hilly land now. No Gulf in front of the house, no asazleas and oleandas growing but it safe to walk down the three faded steps to the car parked by my door. You can rest on the chairs faded orange cushions and feel the river on your face. It's just on the other side of the road and over a cliff.The town is called Rhinecliff. But the Hudson River never swells up and rolls over the cliff into the town.
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