October 12, 2022
What do we think about the
concept of fairness?
I can remember a time, oh, I
think it was not too long before David and I got married. I was pregnant; the
wedding was scheduled for July 14, which in 1972 was a Friday. We said our vows
at 7:15 pm in the evening.
Because I was pregnant, my
mother was quite firm on two factors: I would not wear a white wedding
dress; and the guest list would be very small.
The latter didn’t bother me so
much, really, but that not being able to wear a real wedding dress certainly
did. She understood that and told me that I could wear white if I chose, but
she would not attend.
My dress was mauve.
In the lead up to the big day,
I was the recipient of a bridal shower. I received 4 blankets for our
matrimonial bed, a box of spices from my mother and one or two other gifts.
Even at 17, I was grateful, did sort of wonder if the presence of so many blankets could
be the 1972 version of shutting the barn door after the horse had gotten out: “We’ll
make sure she’s warm enough she won’t need to snuggle close to the man.”
I had a strange sense of humor
even then.
I also recall that one of my
friends, about two months after David and I got married, was planning her
wedding and oh what a lavish affair it was going to be! She had three bridal
showers. Three! And the most beautiful white gown…. at one point, I recall
thinking that it just wasn’t fair—and even said so aloud to my mother. Everyone
knew that the couple had been having sex for a long time. She got to wear a
beautiful white wedding dress when I did not. Blame it on teenaged pregnant hormones
and the fact that, at this point in my life I can look back and see that I
really was still not much more than a baby myself on my wedding day. But what I
remember most about the incident was my mother’s reaction to my bemoaning of
unfairness.
She gave me a look of utter
shock. And then she said, “Who the hell ever told you that life was fair? If
life were fair, your father would still be alive!” Then she nodded, the look on
her face telling me more than words that the matter was closed.
Though I didn’t appreciate it then,
I think that her question to me about fairness was a good one. Being where I am
now in life I look back. I never answered that question but I could now. And
the answer is that no one ever told me that life would be fair; yet everything
within me, growing up, had always believed that life should be fair.
Now, of course, that question
and how they express it can define a person, but I’m not sure whether that definition
can be considered truth, or opinion. For example, there are a lot of people who
make a lot of noise, fueled by a general sense of grievance. Apparently, they
don’t think life is fair at all, and want something to be done about that—legally,
if not morally.
Counter to this group are
people who believe that all things are possible if one just works hard to
achieve whatever goal they set. Fairness doesn’t seem to be a part of that
equation for success, and yet those who adhere to their “pull yourself up by
your bootstraps” philosophy don’t necessarily decry fairness. They just believe
in making lemonade out of lemons, or, if you will, doing what they can to make
the question of fairness moot.
When I think back to my naivete
in my teen years at the ripe old age of sixty-eight, there’s a part of me that
marvels. I’d lost my daddy when I was 8, and a part of me from that moment on
dreaded losing my mother, too. In fact, she died just four years after my wedding.
And yet despite that early in life loss of a parent, I still clung to my hope
in fairness.
And I still do—even as I dig
down to do what I can to give that hope all the fuel my soul can conjure.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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