The Trombone Player and the Groupie

Picture it .... 1938 the big band era ... warm summer night at the lake and a band is playing at the band shell.  The trombone player catches the eye of a pretty young brunette and it is happy ever after .... well almost.  Yes that is how my parents met, or at least that was the story I was told, but happy ever after was not quite the way I remember it. 

As the child of older parents, they were in their 40s when I was born (yes I was an accident), my view of my parents was different than my sister and brother.  My early years had a lot of fights and crying and drinking (not by me).  No yelling, never any yelling ... the neighbors might hear.  The joke at my house now is I refuse to eat or cook hamburger helper or anything with that stupid hand on it, because thats what mom cooked when she was mad at dad ... we ate it A LOT.  Poor Michael loves Tuna Helper, so when I am not home, thats what he makes for himself!

But the view I now see of my parents is the one of the last 10 years of moms life.  They both had a shock that I am not sure mom ever recovered from.  The death of my sister.  We knew it was coming, but couldn't stop it, or prepare for it. Plus mom was ill, she was never very strong ... but this was different.  Dad helped her, waited on her, took over house duties (I no longer lived at home).  I got to see them hold hands, and fall back in love with each other.  Once when I came by the house unannounced I heard the music and saw them dancing ... the only time I remember them doing that.  This is my replacement memory ... not the anger of my youth, but that they could still be the trombone player and the groupie after almost 50 years of marriage.