Like all good college graduates, I am a member of my college alumni association. Frankly, the only reason I joined the association was so that my family and I can swim in their huge-ass pool during the summer and use their work out equipment for basically free.

On a somewhat regular basis, I receive a copy of the school newspaper in the mail. I love reading through it – remembering how much fun it was to enjoy live music in the quad, or attend a rally about one thing or another. To have very few cares in the world comparitively speaking.

In each issue of this paper, there’s always a question of the week. They did this same thing back when I was in college – over 20 years ago – yikes! So the question in this particular issue was “What Was Your Worst Date?” Here was one of the answers from one of the people polled:

“Actually, I’m a Muslim. We don’t do dates. We don’t talk with the woman before marriage. I didn’t have any bad dates, or any good dates, or any dates at all.”

 

Wow.

 

Couldn’t even imagine.

 

My grandmother’s sister  – Aunt Mamie – was in an arranged marriage. Here in the states, some 75+ years ago. Her husband died before I was born, but I clearly remember Aunt Mamie telling us about how miserable she was. She had 8 children with this man whom she did not love. She did not even like him. It was her children that got her through. Because I’m now going through old family photos, I’ve found several of her with her husband. Always the smiling wife. Hiding the pain she felt inside. Aunt Mamie lived a very, very difficult life – but she was one of the most strongest, most admirable, loving women I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.

 

May she rest in peace.

 

 

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