He's For Me
Bertha and Emerson Downing
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I remember when I first met Emerson. I was at work, and my aunt called me and told me to come home early, because a Gringuito was coming in answer to the ad for the room, and I was the only one who could speak English.
My mother, sister and I were living with my Aunt in a brand new house she had bought with lottery winnings, on Mazatlan 161 (Colonia Condesa, right near the Angel). The house had two floors and three bathrooms, and she advertised one bedroom and bath for rent to supplement her income.
I came home early; it was raining. I peered out of the Venetian blinds waiting for him. He arrived in a little beat-up old Ford. The minute he stepped out of the car, I said “He’s for me!â€.
He came into the house; we showed him his room; he rented it on the spotÖand he never left. Poor Bolton Mallory — I dumped him right away.
This is the house we were married in. We did not get married in the church because Emerson was not a Catholic. His best man was Oliver Ormond, an FBI friend from Texas, who was later killed in a plane crash. Only my side of the family came to the wedding.
Mary and Bolton never had a chance. Look at these two beautiful people. It all sounds so romantic. Where did you grow up Dan?
Comment by chris — April 24, 2005 @ 4:44 pm
Chris, your comment caught me in a bout of tears, thinking about how much my mother and father loved each other.
I did my first growing up in Mexico City.
Comment by smiling — April 24, 2005 @ 4:49 pm
I donÃt know what iteration of growing up he is into now, Chris, but I can tell you he ainÃt done yet.
Beautiful photograph, Dan. Your parents look like the romantic leads clipped from a movie poster, and in that vein I better understand your motherÃs deep longing for your father. Maybe what i really mean is that there is the terrible hurt of losing someone after all those years, but in my imagination, after seeing that picture, there is also the fantastical timeless image of the perfectly matched couple.
Thanks for this peek back into their lives.
Comment by michael — April 24, 2005 @ 6:00 pm
Bertha sounds like a brave woman, marrying outside of her church (I’m assuming that was a big deal back then) and your father leaving Detroit and his extended family (Aunt Estelle’s “this woman” -ouch). It had to be a tad scandalous for both and certainly a more adventurous start then most. Where is the next growth phase for you…if outside of Mexico, was that hard for your mom? We all get choked up when we see young pictures of our before we were born very much in love parents. It’s fun to imagine their lives without us. My mother always said, not the least apologetically, that the happiest time of her life was as a newlywed before children!
Comment by chris — April 24, 2005 @ 7:26 pm
This is VERY sweet. But is it permitted to ask what became of Bolton and Mary?
Speaking of in love; my family has pretty much reconstructed that my aunt stopped drinking because my uncle decided he would divorce her if she didn’t, and that she really DIDN’T start again until he died. I.e., he left her, so she didn’t have a reason to keep her promise, or to stay alive. And she didn’t have many options with a severely compromised liver and an absolute terror of hospitals.
And speaking of the best part of one’s life, I’m still looking forward: my mother’s friend Lois said at 68 that the best years of her life were the immediately preceding 10 years. That probably was true for my aunt, too, come to think of it.
Comment by jennifer — April 24, 2005 @ 8:12 pm
Dan, your parents were SO beautiful, their story so sweet. I LOVE her viscero-spiritual response and wish I could have known the next 15 minutes after he stepped out of his car and changed both of their lives forever. Un Gringuito! Que broma tan chevere! I, too, remember when “Gringo” was a factual distinction, not a charged epithet.
Comment by encantado — April 25, 2005 @ 11:40 am