nizcd that her life couldn't end
because he had been taken from
her. Their children were young;
they badly needed the stabilizing
influence of a man.
So Betty's period of mourning
was brief except within her own
heart and those of her children.
She began to attend social func
tions within a few months after
J oe's death. She met men, lots of
men, and they liked her. She was
that kind of a woman. There was
nothing wrong or furtive about
these associations. The men friends
knew about her children, and her
children knew about the men. .
Six months ago, Betty married
again. We spent an evening with
her and her new husband re
cently. She was radiant, and the
children were happy, well-adjusted,
and plainly proud of their
new "father."
The new husband was ill-at-ease
at first because he knew my
close relationship with Joe. But I
liked him instantly, and he knew
it and responded to it.
Betty has been criticized by
some of our friends for "throwing
herself at men" so soon after Joe's
death. This is an injustice to her.
She simply refused to shutter the
windows of her life because
of a tragic accident over which
she had no control. As a result,
she is brightening someone else's
life as well as her own; and Joe's
children are growing up with a
steady male hand to adjust the
throttle when it's necessary.
I probably knew Joe as well as
anyone in the world did. And of
this I'm sure: Joe would have
wanted it this way. If he could
have his say right now, it would
be to bless this marriage which,
in turn, is blessing all those who
were dearest to him.
I t's easy to contrast this story
' with that of another life
long friend named Alice,
who lost her husband during
World War II. She took his death
very hard. They had two chil
dren; one was an infant, the other
three years old when their father
was killed.
For years Alice kept her hus
band's belongings just as they had
been, but she was finally pre
vailed on to dispose of them re
cently.. There must be 15 or 20
pictures of him scattered through
out the house. The children have
a weird feeling almost fear
about him. Instead of a healthy
respect for a man they never
knew, they regard him as a ghost
peering over their shoulders.
Alice resists violently any sug
gestions that she go out with a
man; she regards this as an af
front to her husband. This is her
business, of course, but the chil
dren, raised in a purely female
home, are going to have some
problems adjusting to life. They '
have been coddled and spoiled,
and they need a restraining hand
badly. This has been suggested to
Alice obliquely, but it hasn't reg
istered yet. And it's probably too -late
now for her to change.
I know other young widows
and even some older ones who
have refused to marry again or
even to encourage any friendship
with men. They usually cite two
reasons for feeling this way:
1. By marrying again or being
companionable with" other men,
they are somehow being irrev
erent to the memory of their first
husband;
2. They want to make sure that
the tragedy of a husband's death
can never happen to them again.
The first argument is a lot of
hokum. And if the widow had
ever discussed this point with her
husband before his death, I think
he would probably have told her
so. I can't think of a single man
of my acquaintance who would be
repelled by the thought of his
widow marrying again. Mostly
this is a fairy story that the girls
tell themselves after their hus
bands are gone.,;
As for the second reason this
would be tantamount to refusing
ever to play golf again after see
ing a golfer struck by lightning.
To deprive yourself of this pleas
ure for a lifetime on the decidedly
remote possibility that lightning
might strike again would be both
. wasteful and foolish. Yet there
are women I know who have put
up with a lifetime of loneliness
for just that reason! ,
I'd never want this to happen to
" Jean. The years we've had to
gether are ours; nothing of them
can ever be taken away from us.
The same is true of our children.
Our time with them has been
fruitful and exciting and that's
the way our memories of these
days will always be. But there's
no reason to build a fence around
these joyous experiences and
write finis to them, no matter
what happens. Life goes on, and
so do joy and happiness; and they
must be shared with someone to
be really fulfilling.
. Shared how?
A wife's life is geared to a man
and all the things that go along
with him. Think for a minute
about what happens when you're
away from home for a few days
on a business trip.
Meals suddenly become sketch
ier. Without the man of the house
to cook for, the wife tends to feed
the kids the things they order
like hamburgers and hot dogs
and one little segment of her
personality and creativity goes by
the boards.
A good play or motion picture
comes to town, one that she wants
to see very badly, but she stays
home because she doesn't want to
go alone. And a chance for in
tellectual stimulation is missed,
perhaps forever.
A good friend from out-of-town
calls and wants to come out but
doesn't when he learns that you're
away.
Your wife comes home from a
civic meeting, bursting with zeal
and overflowing with ideas for
creating a better community. But
there's no one to sound them out
on or thresh them over with
and somehow the ideas don't seem
so important the next morning
when she phones her women
friends.
A group in the neighborhood
gets together for an impromptu
cook-out and bridge party. As a
temporary "widow," your wife
just doesn't fit into the picture.
They need couples not indi
viduals, no matter how well liked
for the party.
- Then there are those peaceful,
solemn hours in the evening when
the kids are in bed and the house
is quiet. When you're home,
perhaps you and your wife may
be reading or working or watch
ing television without saying a
word to each other. Yet, you are
sharing your presence a subtle
sort of satisfaction that is scarcely
recognizable until it is missed. In
its stead can come a loneliness
that erodes an individual who has
much to share and no one' with
whom to share it.
These things are true not so
much because of the in
dividual characteristics of a
husband, but simply because he
is a husband. The individual
characteristics are, of course, pe
culiarly his and can't be replaced.
But his function as a husband can
be and should be.
If I weren't around to take care
of it myself, I'd want a man to
have a hand in raising my chil
dren. A well-adjusted child draws
equally from his mother and
father in making his peace with
the world and finding his place
in it. Jean knows the importance
of this as well' as I do.
My son heeds someone to bet
on football games with, to hit him
fly balls, and to discuss God with
him so he knows that God belongs
in a man's world as well as a
woman's. And my daughters need
a bumbling, masculine hand to
button their dresses, and a fa
ther's spacious and protective lap
to crawl into when masculine
strength is needed.
I plan to be around to supply
these things. But if I weren't, I'd
trust Jean completely to supply
the right kind of father for our
children.
There's something else, too,
something tremendously impor
tant: my. wife has a great deal to
give. She's loaded with love and
humor, good companionship and
broad interests things that can
be expressed in many ways but
most often and most effectively
with a husband. What a pitiful
waste it would be if these talents,
so wonderiully developed and
matured, should have no outlet.
The loss wouldn't be just Jean's,
pifhpr Snmp man snmcwhprfi.
who needs what she has to give
would also lose. So would my
children. And so, too, would all
the people with whom Jean as
sociates and all the activities to
which she gives her energy and
talent. For that energy is at its
keenest edge and that talent at
its creative best when she is ful
filling her role as a woman
completely and rewardingly.
I have no fears about ever be
ing replaced in Jean's affections.
I feel my place is secure with her,
just as hers is with me. But I also
feel that Jean's capacity for loving
doesn't stop with me. That would
be a stultifying limitation to put
on her. No, there's plenty of room
in Jean's affections, plenty of love
for her to lavish without drawing
off any of the special affection
that has been mine during our
wonderful marriage.
I've never discussed this with
Jean, and chances are I never
will. But I think she knows how
I feel, and I think she feels the
same way.
I fully expect to continue to
grow with my wife and my family
grow in love and maturity and
wisdom. I'm not anticipating an
early demise. But if anything
ever should happen to me, I hope
Jean marries again!
Family Weekly, April 13, 195 17