A Bit About Stepdad (Joseph Edward Sullivan) …
Then, a bomb shell.
Mom decided to remarry about 4 years after dad’s passing. Joe Sullivan, a schoolmate from years past. She became reacquainted with Joe while he was a bachelor of 42 years, never before married! They hitched in 1979, an unexpected surprise.
When Joe was a young man, he came to know mom in her small hometown of Arnprior. Joe’s parents divorced when he was very young resulting in him splitting time in Chicago, Illinois living with his dad and summers in Arnprior with mom. He’d commute by train alone each summer, back and forth likely with Chicago Cubs stats filling his mind as baseball was his passion. I suppose it’s something he got used to riding the rails.
After high school Joe served in the U.S. Air Force, eventually making his roots in Fresno, California as a salesman where he purchased his deceased uncle’s home through probate at the Fresno courthouse. Occasionally, he’d visit Arnprior to rekindle memories of his childhood and bond with old friends, one being mom. I met him only once during these visits before learning of his plans for marriage. Plans to marry mom, the widowed wife of my father. That was hard to swallow. I’ll never forget when he came to visit us as a family for the first and only time in Ottawa.
He was likely incredibly nervous, becoming intoxicated, and barely able to stand up straight. This left me with a first impression, “This is going to be my new dad? Shit!” To be fair, who was I to talk? He must have been thinking, “What am I doing? A strong independent woman, two incorrigible boys, and an preadolescent young girl, am I cracked? Shit!”
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Affecting high costs and long lines at the gas pump was the Iranian Revolution of 1978-’79, decreasing worldwide oil production. This hit us with nearly an empty tank as we rolled into Fresno onto Blackstone Avenue, the main drag. With low riders, roadsters, and motorcycles cruising the strip, it was like a page out of the ‘73 American Graffiti movie.
I had poison oak all over my body during the trip due to some outdoor extracurricular activities back in Ottawa with my friends. Father Baxter, our local Catholic priest, my brother, his friend Tony Bennett (… no, not the singer), and I drove for five days over 3,000 miles from east coast to Joe’s home, west coast California. Cheryl, mom, and our dog, Nikela, wisely took an eight hour plane ride to San Francisco with Joe waiting to chauffeur them to Fresno.
After pulling into Joe’s laneway, mom spontaneously drew me an oatmeal bath. I slid into that creamy paradise easily. This house was unfamiliar, nothing like the comfort of our Canadian home but I had to admit it was pretty cool having a pool table in the middle of the living room. Joe was a legit bachelor with orange, lemon, and grapefruit trees lining the backyard fence. I wondered, “Uh, how long will that pool table stick around?”
Perspective: ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ was a 2002 independent romantic comedy sleeper hit, becoming the highest-grossing romantic comedy of all time. It grossed $241 million in North America. It was surpassed 14 years later by the animated film, ‘Sing’ in 2016.
It was written by Nia Vardalos. Nia also stars as Fotoula ‘Toula’ Portokalos, the main character. Frumpy, cynical, and insecure is Toula the black sheep of her family. She is 30 years old, not married, and living at home. She wants to become independent, breaking out of her proud traditional Greek roots.
Toula expresses her desire to break free with her mom, but says she will never be able to because dad is the head of the household. Toula’s mother with her heavy Greek accent reassures Toula saying, “Let me tell you something, Toula. The man is the head, but the wife is the neck. And she can turn the neck any way she wants.’
The woman doesn’t need to be the head to be in charge.
It was produced by Gary Goetzman, Tom Hanks, and Rita Wilson. Rita is married to Tom Hanks. Rita strongly related to the main character as she too is Greek.
Well, it was no more than a month until mom relegated the pool table to the garage. A couple more months passed, Joe went out of town and away it went to the local Boy’s Club. When Joe arrived back home, no pool table. This ‘out of town trickery’ became a pattern and continued until it could continue no more. Only dementia could stop mom’s trickery. In Joe’s absence either things disappeared from the home or renovations sprouted. Mom quickly established the fact that she is the neck. Joe is the head, and she can, at will, turn the head any direction she wishes.
Days after arriving in Fresno, mom kindly asked me to write out each wedding invitation, by hand. She buttered me up saying I had the best handwriting. Sneaky little devil! I believed her. The guests received the handwritten invitations within the week. Three weeks later they arrived at Saint Anthony’s of Padua church, catty-corner from Joe’s place, close enough for daily confession. Here they witnessed Father Baxter marry Joe Sullivan with my mother, becoming Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan.
Gwen Sullivan. Hearing her new last name made things real. No turning back. Life is now in Fresno in the heart of San Joaquin Valley, ‘the nation’s salad bowl’. Joe never directly criticized or disciplined us as he was proven to be passive, a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift compared to dad who wouldn’t hesitate to thwart us. A paradigm-shift causing us to have no fear, no respect, or obedience for the man.
Joe was never married, had no children, and no family experience. He was uncomfortable addressing us and clearly outnumbered. If my mom ever sided with us, he was sunk. She never did. We often stayed out late, breaking curfew. My poor mother in a pickle many, many times. She was trying to meet the standards Joe expected while also being mother to her pubescent children. It was a tightrope walk above a roaring adolescent river.
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Mom and Joe made their way. Together, they formed from scratch an Irish imported small business for over forty years which gave them a living and afforded them travel to Ireland many times to meet with manufacturers, diligently putting a little money away for a future without any accumulated debt. Joe often went on the road up and down the Pacific coast selling hats, shawls, jewelry, and other miscellaneous items. By this time Joe had stopped drinking and smoking. Mom thought it good that he quit other than Joe no longer was any fun.
Mom stayed home accounting for inventory, volunteering, and establishing some special friendships, none better than her dear friend and nun, kindred spirit Sister Margaret ‘Cellie’ Celestine. Mom also tended to her spacious yard, mowing the Bermuda grass, fixing home repairs, and updating a house that needed some tender loving care. The perfect caregiver with an artistic flare.
All the while mom weekly volunteered downtown at La Tienda Guild Thrift Shop in support of Valley Children’s Hospital then later added the Fresno Chaffee Zoo to her hours of service for over twenty fulfilling years. Travelling to foreign countries became an adventure of sorts going to such places as South America, Thailand, and Europe visiting zoos of the world along with fellow ladies and gentlemen sharing the same passions.
When not giving of herself to others and her yard, mom could be found for years waking early for water aerobics classes at a local gym only to come home for a single cup of coffee, a piece of toast (no butter) with marmalade, and a brief respite to read The Fresno Bee. Mornings were her time to settle, plan her day, and enjoy a little ‘me’ time.
Note: Next post will be ‘Center Stage, Act I: Dementia Unfolding in Mom, Part 1’. This is when life takes an unprovoked, unplanned, forever altering turn as mom is in hiding.
Take care, my friend 👍
