My Old Kentucky Home: Where Push Came to Shove

Cliff View Resort

(near Rogers, KY)

August 25, 2011

2:37 p.m.

My Old Kentucky Home:  Where Push Came to Shove 

(Revised Twice for condensation and greater accuracy 

at Viveka's request)

The young folks roll on the little cabin floor

All merry, and happy, and bright; . . .

Let us sing one song for my old Kentucky home

My old Kentucky home, good night.

                                                  --Stephen Foster lyrics

I was asked to officiate at my daughter’s wedding about seven years ago.  To me, all wedding ceremonies are memorable, but this one was especially unique on several counts.  

First of all, it was my first wedding after having been ordained, and it was in my own family -- my own dear daughter.   To have an in-law be the officiating minister meant that we were following in a family tradition, for I myself had been married by my venerable father-in-law, Rev. Haven N. Davis, some 43 years before at Fallen Leaf Lake near Lake Tahoe.  Rev. Davis was the founding minister of the Westwood California, Presbyterian church.  Viveka, who, incidentally has chosen to adopt “Haven” as her middle name, was marrying a man nearer to my age than her own.  For some time I had struggled to come to terms with this, her second marriage.  But it was clearly her choice to make, as an adult in her mid-thirties.

Secondly:  The wedding took place in Las Vegas in a sound stage, rather than a church or chapel.  The ceremony was part of a dual event -- both wedding a musical extravaganza replete with a host of professional musicians, singers and technicians.  And it was being filmed to showcase Viveka’s musical talents, as well as the talents of other performers.

Thirdly:  instead of a conventional center aisle and altar set-up, guests stood around a perimeter in front of a stage.  Entering the space, Viveka came dancing with her brother down a curved pathway to stand before me and the bridegroom in a small, roped-off “boxing ring” area.   Instead of the traditional “Wedding March” (“Here Comes the Bride), the music was a recording of  Viveka singing a song written by her years earlier, “When Push Comes to Shove.”  The song was  an aggressive but lighthearted warning that this marriage may be rocky (as in Rocky Balboa, my pun) but we are going to fight our way through it, and, as the refrain kept reminding us, “it’s gonna get ugly when push comes to shove.”  It looked to me that Viveka was putting her community of supportive wedding guests on notice that she had no illusions about the fact that marriage can be a battleground, but that she was willing to “duke it out” with her partner, if necessary -- in love.  Apparently this marriage would require a large dose of necessary toughness.

Viveka had seen in her parents’ marriage (mine) just how embattled marriage can be.  But I, in contrast with her, had not stood up to my partner.  I had received no training in this skill.  My mother and grandmother had had nervous breakdowns.  That was what their level of coping their skills and imaginations came up with.  It was effective, and in some ways even clever.  It removed them from the abuse, as they could literally seek asylum.  Other women in my family had simply quit their marriages, choosing to bear the awful stigma of divorce (in the first part of the 20th century) rather than the suffering of abuse.  I, like so many women of my W.A.S.P. culture and generation simply caved in to aggressive, hostile, hurtful and criminally unjust domestic partners in the interest of “keeping the peace,” and keeping the family together at all costs.  

I chose to tolerate the abuse, even though it was extreme, because it was “only” verbal, not physical or sexual, not fully realizing what a heavy burden I was forcing my children to bear.  After all, I had borne similar abuse as a child, and my mother before me much worse, because hers was physical.  I justified the abuse with this kind of reasoning:  “My children are really not suffering any more than I did, and much less than my mother did.  Isn’t that just the way it is in families?  Aren’t all families this way?”  

One of the main reasons for my purchase of the “Wilde Rose Guest House” cabin in Kentucky last year was to provide a sanctuary for individual and family healing and transformation -- especially for our own family, and possibly for others‘ in a beautiful retreat setting.  During his recent trip to Kentucky for Viveka’s birthday, my son and I had some long talks into the wee hours about our family dysfunctions, and especially the part I had played in that, through my inaction.  As a conscientious young father, struggling with his own childhood traumas, he pointed out to me in no uncertain terms how wrong this was.  But in all truth, I simply was ill-equipped to know what course to pursue other than divorce, which I had vowed not to do, because I had solemnly promised, before God and witnesses “to love, honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”  I remember, during my wedding ceremony, how one part of the vow stuck in my throat.  In trying to repeat “in sickness as in health,” I broke out in tears, as though I knew this would be the toughest part of the vow to honor.  Just so, it turned out to be prophetic.  

My tears and hesitation were delaying the ceremony, so Rev. Haven told me with compassion, “That’s O.K., you don’t have to say it.”  But I insisted on actually pronouncing the entire vow, choked by my sobs.  

Alcoholism is a sickness, although at 23 I was scarcely aware of such things.  Without even suspecting that my wonderful, brilliant, handsome young husband could be sick, I failed to recognize that, in time, my husband would need mental and medical help on so many levels that I could not give him.  As he failed to support the family, despite his many talents and gifts, I eventually moved into the position of breadwinner.   I also needed more help and support than I was able to realize or ask for.  My failing was the arrogance of trying to bear this burden on my own, thinking that through the sheer depth and power of my love -- and with God’s help -- I could provide the help he needed.  Also, and perhaps more importantly, I was afraid to bear the feeling of shame around my failure.  Nowadays we call it denial.  In those days, people just said or thought things like, “Poor Doris, saddled with those four kids and that maniac,” or more kindly, “Love is blind.”  

*   *   *

Why am I telling all of this?  Unfortunately the impasse I have reached with Viveka’s husband is severe, and I see it as relevant.  After 10 years of knowing each other I regret to say that we have made very little progress in our relationship.  Mutual grievances pointed in opposite directions are piled on top of each other, like ammunition.  It pains me deeply, but I also know that it pains me for reasons that are very germane to this walk.  Richard represents to me that kind of “Alpha” male energy that I find ultra-offensive because it pushes all of my buttons, harking back to my own grandfathers and father and husband.  I also recognize that Richard is not the enemy.  He simply represents (in my mind) an archetype of the unjust (tyrannical) male authority figure.  Truth be told, I probably push all of his overbearing (wayward) feminine archetype buttons as well.  To him I probably appear like the mother-in-law from hell.

My time spent with him here, recently, has shown me that I need to make a distinction between what Richard represents to me (because of my past experiences) and who Richard IS.  I must learn to practice new patterns of behavior with respect to this archetype, separating Richard, the human brother walking down the path of life beside me, bearing his own burdens, soldiering on towards his own goals and objectives.  The role I have assigned to him may merely add to his burdens.  I want to do all in my power to release him of those extra burdens by assessing the situation with greater accuracy.  If I cannot do this, the Sole 2 Soul Walk and its purpose and mission are doomed to failure.  

It’s like this:  if I cannot, as a PeaceWalker succeed in bringing inner peace to myself no matter what the circumstances and no matter what the appearances, I will have failed a most important test.  But there is no doubt in my mind that I aim to pass it this time, with G-d’s help.

   

I would devoutly like to see divine healing accomplished in my family, but I must start with myself first.  I cannot take responsibility for another but I CAN take responsibility for how I see that other, and how I choose to speak with and relate to that other.  And, while not disrespecting another, I can remember to respect myself as well

I have known this all along, but have acted as though I didn't really believe it.  Self respect and self confidence are two large issues with me, and areas where I am learning to walk my talk.  I will not stop until inner peace is a complete and permanent reality in my experience.

In the past I have always opted for appeasement and compromise when faced with domineering and bullying tactics.  I don’t know how to establish boundaries.  So I see the same pattern bearing itself out in my relationship with Richard.  My response has been either roll over and play dead (escape emotionally) or “Throw the dog a bone” (appease).  At this point, however, I see that these are no longer a viable options for me.  In practical and personal terms, it comes down to this:  without feeling that I am an equally-valued decision maker, I cannot be in a partnership with anyone.  Our family partnership vis a vis the Kentucky property which we own (our lots are next door to each other) involves a family business, construction projects, family money, and real estate values.  Richard and I have not found ways (yet) to communicate due to long-standing issues from the past involving repeated breaches of trust and good faith -- perceived on both sides.  

So, in short, “push has come to shove” in my relationship with Viveka and Richard, and I am poised and prepared to leave here in a few days, without her, if necessary, to continue and to complete this pilgrimage.  God willing, I aim to arrive in less than a month in Washington, D.C. and sit in meditation in the capstone of the Washington Monument, and to ask the Divine One to allow me a vision of this nation and its destiny and my part in it as a woman, as a mother, as a grandmother, and as a minister and Sacred Activist.  That is the end that I have in mind.  That is the passion that I am walking for. 

Viveka need not be part of that unless she chooses to do so.  Richard and I could be at a standoff for a very long time, but I am clear that I will not make the mistake of having my boundaries violated without clear and effective signals of my protest, and appropriate action taken to ensure fairness to myself as well as those whom I love.

But I can say this without judgment or prejudice to anyone, or without making anyone wrong:  our stated mission on this walk, “To imagine a world where women are equally valued decision-makers in partnership with men worldwide” is at the very core of this radical departure of mine.  I am frightened to take this position, for there is a lot a stake for me, but I need to break old patterns that no longer serve me.

It remains to be seen how Viveka, who is caught between her husband and her mother, will respond to my very clear intention to continue this walk alone, if necessary.