The Ramblings of an Aging Baby Boomer

The Farmer’s Wife

Twenty-one Days in May

The Power

He placed his cowboy hat on his head and walked out the door. I knew he would be back because he couldn’t live without me. Those were his exact words, “I can’t live without you.” This man, the love of my life at this moment in time, gave me the power to decide his destiny: life or death.

It was Thursday, May 1, 1980. At thirty-four, I was single and living with my twenty-year old sister in a rustic knotty pine cottage on Trails’ End overlooking White River on the far north side of Indianapolis.

My younger sister was dependent upon me, too, but with her I had no power. When she was seventeen, our parents agreed that she could live with me if I agreed to be a strict Christian disciplinarian, wise mentor, after-school tutor, financial adviser, and show her by example how a well-adjusted, intelligent, competent adult woman lives in the world.

Trusting that he couldn’t see me—that would be awkward--I stood back from the window and watched as the love-of-my-life-at-this-moment-in-time backed his orange GMC diesel truck out of my driveway. The only thing visible in the driver’s window was his brown suede cowboy hat.

He didn’t come back.

Powerless

The window through which I watched him leave that morning was where I stood waiting for him to return that night. He was late. He was never late. I stood at the window for over an hour before it occurred to me he wasn’t coming.

I felt powerless to switch my attention from him standing me up to move on to something, anything else. I was stuck in the many scenarios of betrayal that kept playing over and over in my mind.

After calling his phone and leaving several messages, he finally answered at 11:30. The apology was sincere and the reason—a mishap at the farm—took whatever angst and chaos that had been playing havoc with my mind for hours away immediately.

Promises

The window through which she watched him leave the night before, was where she stood waiting for him Friday morning. He was on time. He was always on time. He promised his young daughters he would take them to breakfast at Bob Evans, and then later that night, all four of them would go to the movies.

He was her first love. Football star falls for cheerleader from a neighboring town. He leaves for Vietnam and she waits. He comes home a different man than she remembers. She waits, and waits, and waits. Then one day her dreams are answered when he promises her, in front of family and friends, to love and honor until death. Next comes two baby girls, and the farmer is content with his life, until he isn’t.

The window that showed him leaving that morning, was where she stood waiting for him to return that Friday night. He was late. He was never late. She stood at the window for over an hour before it occurred to her he wasn’t coming.

The life I wanted

The divorced farmer promised to give me the life I wanted. A century-old farmhouse down a twisting dirt road surrounded by 160 acres, with a large barn and fields of corn and soybeans separating us from the big city and suburbs just over the next hill. Goats and chickens were free to range wherever they choose, but the hogs were kept in their cage. The horses had twenty acres all to themselves. And then there was Laddie, the Austrian Shepherd. This was my future.

At six feet tall, with a muscular, athletic body, blonde hair and mysterious blue eyes, he stood apart from other men I had dated. I found him to be handsome in a rugged cowboy way and silently seductive. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, everyone listened, including me. He had that power.

Doubts

I had been standing at the window waiting for him, but when his truck pulled into my driveway, I backed away, hoping he hadn’t seen me. It was dinner out and the movies this Friday night, a rarity for us, since he preferred to stay in to watch television.

At dinner I mentioned the mishap at the farm the night before, looking for something, anything to tap down my doubts about his story, and his response killed the doubts instantly. Afterall, if this man cannot live without me, why would he betray me and risk dying without me there to keep him alive.

Joe Knocked

Just shy of thirty, she was beautiful. What stood out the most about her was not her beauty, but how gentle, soft spoken, and kind she was to everyone. She was the wife of the only man she had ever loved and the mother of his two daughters—daughters whom he loved dearly. What could go so wrong in their marriage that he would leave the children he cherished?

Her beauty and now availability did not go unnoticed with the men in her circle of acquaintances. She had lost weight, became a blonde, started wearing makeup, and then she considered opening her door to suitors.

Joe, a basketball star, knocked. She let him in.

Discombobulation

The window through which I watched him leave that Tuesday morning was where I stood waiting for him to return that night. He was late. I stood at the window for over a half an hour before it occurred to me he wasn’t coming.

I felt powerless to switch my attention from him standing me up twice now to move on to something, anything else. I was stuck in the many scenarios of betrayal that kept playing over and over in my mind.

After calling his phone and leaving several messages, he finally answered at 1:00a.m. The apology seemed to be somewhat sincere and the explanation—one of his daughters was sick—took some time before reducing the angst and chaos that had been playing havoc with my mind.

At 2:00 a.m. my sister, the young sibling I was supposed to be mentoring and showing how to live by my example of good judgment came home from a night out drinking, dancing, and driving with her friends. She was witness to the ugly side of my discombobulation. “He’s lying,” she said. “Dump him.”

Undying Love

The window through which she watched him leave the night before had its shades drawn Wednesday morning. She was still in bed. He had kept her up until midnight the night before making promises. He wanted to come back to her and their daughters. He couldn’t live without her, he said.

She said yes. He was, after all, her one and only love.

But by that night, Wednesday, the sixth of May, 1980, he was in a cottage on Trail’s End professing his undying love to another woman.

Twenty-one days in May

On the last Friday in May, I was in the upstairs bedroom at the farm, the home where I imagined my future, when the phone rang. It was her. I was with him today, she said, but did I know she was with him yesterday, and two days before that, and the Sunday before that. Twenty-one days in May according to her calendar.

Farmer’s Wife

She was the one to stop it. She finally said no to his promises, and I, well, I still believed them. Within weeks I discovered I was pregnant. So, those dreams I had about becoming a farmer’s wife and living in an old farmhouse in the middle of 160 acres, surrounded by chickens, goats, hogs, horses, and a dog named Laddie? Well, sometimes dreams do come true.