We just got back from the Thanksgiving dinner with Martha’s folks. And what an event it was this year. Her parents, I should mention, live in North Shore, one of the most affluent suburbs of Chicago. Martin (Martha’s father) is a stockbroker and her mother, Linda, defines her occupation as a stay-at-home mother and wife, though in reality she spends most of her time out-of-the-home; at the gym, shopping, developing her “cottage industry” (which is more like an empire) of aromatherapy products, planning the most lavish and talked about social gatherings in town, and now most recently she has decided to start taking French lessons.
Since 2008 fall, when the stock market began showing early signs of cracks right down the middle, the mood of the house, which could have once been described as energetic and quite saturated with witty banter between Martin and Linda has gradually turned quite sour. Apparently, last year, Martin and Linda began quipping at each other so frequently and often with such acerbity, that Martha insisted they both join “PiYo” classes, and when Martha sets her mind on a project there is no refusing her. PiYo is short for Pilates and Yoga, and while Martha sincere in her good intentions, I cannot but laugh when I imagine Martin in leotards, with a matt and ball under his armpit, quietly queuing up for their evening class. They tell Martha that they are both going to the classes regularly but I find it hard to believe to be true. Martin is terribly impatient; he is happiest when he is engaged with two tasks at once, and he is efficient but I do not see any meditative possibilities in him or in Linda as Martha does.
Martin from an early age learnt to play golf and squash, which are common games for those in his line of work, for instance he’d often say that while he was talking to X at the club, they decided to go ahead with such and such venture, or how he and Y after a squash game decided to double their investments in some stock. The interesting thing is that while most of his business decisions, deals and opportunities are made, brokered and offered within the exclusive confines of specific urban sites, such as "the club" (which hosts a heady mixture of high society sports, charity performances and parties), he remains one of the most vocal supporters of the idea of individual Americans bearing the power to determine their wealth and losses by pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. He often cites his own humble origins by way of evidence, which confused me the first time because his father was the president of a very successful bank in the city, however his great-grandfather had emigrated from Ireland, at the age of fourteen, with nothing to his own name. He joined a theatre company which he eventually took over.
Martha is Martin’s and Linda’s only child and they dote on her endlessly. After all, she always did everything they had asked her to; she studied for 3 hours every day between the hours of 4.00 pm and 7.00 pm, played the violin, learnt ballet, performed in the school plays, went to an Ivy League College and graduated at the top of her class in criminal law. I have reason to believe that the first time she openly defied her parents was when it came to marrying me. Though she has never confirmed my suspicions, every time I meet her parents I become even more convinced that they believe she ought to have married someone in the corporate sector, more financially successful and with influential social connections. They are often shocked that that I feel neither guilt nor shame being married to a woman who earns more and who is far more socially recognized than I am. Martin, I think, has always imagined himself as the just inheritor of a long legacy of traditional gender roles. He often begins his sentences with “Well, you know, we men can never do without..." or "we men are just wired to act in such and such manner...”. Though, the first time we met, every time he said “men like us” or “we men” he’d slyly glance at me sideways and then correct himself slowly, with as much deliberative intonation that he could muster, “well, perhaps not all men, but most men at any rate..." or "I'm sure a real man would....”. I knew these barbs were aimed at me but those days I walked around on a cloud, so intoxicated with the thought marrying Martha that Martin’s words simply rolled off my back. I think he would be horrified if he ever learnt that it was Martha who eventually asked me to marry her. I always wanted to ask her for months, but I never dared.
Anyhow, this year’s dinner was quite a tense affair. Thomas decided to share with his grandfather something that he overhead me tell Martha about a news story which published the approximate number of people living without health insurance in the city of Minneapolis – which is a lot higher than I would have guessed. Much of dinner time was spent trying to distract Martin from his tirade against the government interference in private business contracts - in connection with the recent passage of the healthcare bill. Jared meanwhile insisted on eating by himself. He spilt cranberry sauce all over the damask tablecloth.
It was all quite eventful. Well we left soon after. We did promise to visit during Easter – which thankfully is another six months away.
Tim
