As a young girl I can remember always wanting to be one of the “big girls” hanging around the oak kitchen table at my Grandmother’s house at Six Nations in Hagersville, Ontario. This one summer afternoon I remember vividly the smell of cigarettes and coffee as I stood leaning against my mother’s arm as she sat around the table with her mother and sisters. This is the table where they held court and held forth on the important big girl issues at hand. My mother tried to shoo me away as she called me “Ella”, which was a shortened version of Cinderella and the nickname of a woman from our reservation who loved to listen in on all gossip sessions, invited or not.
The conversation I overheard that afternoon has stayed with me for over thirty years and it has continued to puzzle me for most of my adult life. The topic of this day seemed to be focused on my uncle who had “stepped out” on my aunt. There ensued a rather loud and animated discussion; it was very lengthy and escalated as time went on. All my aunts had something they really wanted my other aunts and my mother to hear, their opinions. The information flow went round and round the table as everyone wanted to have their voice heard that day. Then one statement made by my cuckolded aunt was voiced. This statement seemed to be imprinted on my brain all these years and would come back to me at various times and in different situations.
My aunt said, sounding rather resigned, “He is just a man; he puts his pants on one leg at a time” there was more to her statement but that is all I remember. At this the room fell silent, her declaration seemed to let the air out of all their sails. No more advice or additional observations was forthcoming from anyone at the table. Total silence, which was almost shocking after the melee that had preceded the calm. I couldn’t figure out what this declaration meant for the longest time. Did it mean that other people or men in particular, put their pants on in a different way? Did they put them on two legs at a time? Did they jump into them using a different protocol than woman do? Was he special, different, set aside from all other men in the way he got dressed every morning and undressed every night?
As a young girl I had no experiential knowledge to compare her pronouncement to. My life experiences were severely limited and there was nothing enlightening that I could relate this almost offhand comment to.
This morning as I was standing in the shower the events of this summer day came rushing back to me as clear almost as if I was leaning against my mother's arm again, which on some days I long for deeply. My uncle is now gone as is most of my aunties, mother, and gram who all sat around the kitchen table over thirty years ago. My aunt is still alive, a little softer in the jowls, a little longer in the tooth and definitely moving much slower than she did in the early 70’s.
As I got out of the shower and imparted this memory to my husband he repeated “he is just a man” and it was an immediate moment of clarity for me. Now as I near my fiftieth birthday with many years of my own life experiences I can now understand her declaration. It was her way of coming to grips with his infidelity and her own pain; it was also her way of giving him legroom to make a mistake without it ending their relationship or their marriage. All people make mistakes; he was no worse, and no better than anyone else—he too put his pants on one leg at a time—like everyone else.
Many people have asked themselves if they could forgive their partner if they were to find out that they cheated on them. They do survey’s for Cosmopolitan and Glamour and publish statistics of how many men and women are unfaithful in their relationships, how many divorce as a result of their disloyalty. In that moment my auntie had made up her mind, she either had to forgive him or forgo her marriage. My other aunties, my mom, and grandmother had all accepted her decision as evidenced by their tacit agreement. I saw it in their eyes and the miniscule almost invisible nodding of their heads in unison, not understanding then what I was seeing.
They stayed together, my Aunt Pen and Uncle Don and somehow worked through the pain and loss of a broken trust. My Uncle Don passed away over two years ago and Aunt Pen was at his side as he courageously struggled against a cancer that in the end he could not defeat. He was after all, just a man with all his foibles and failures; nevertheless, she loved him and stayed by his side until the end.
The conversation I overheard that afternoon has stayed with me for over thirty years and it has continued to puzzle me for most of my adult life. The topic of this day seemed to be focused on my uncle who had “stepped out” on my aunt. There ensued a rather loud and animated discussion; it was very lengthy and escalated as time went on. All my aunts had something they really wanted my other aunts and my mother to hear, their opinions. The information flow went round and round the table as everyone wanted to have their voice heard that day. Then one statement made by my cuckolded aunt was voiced. This statement seemed to be imprinted on my brain all these years and would come back to me at various times and in different situations.
My aunt said, sounding rather resigned, “He is just a man; he puts his pants on one leg at a time” there was more to her statement but that is all I remember. At this the room fell silent, her declaration seemed to let the air out of all their sails. No more advice or additional observations was forthcoming from anyone at the table. Total silence, which was almost shocking after the melee that had preceded the calm. I couldn’t figure out what this declaration meant for the longest time. Did it mean that other people or men in particular, put their pants on in a different way? Did they put them on two legs at a time? Did they jump into them using a different protocol than woman do? Was he special, different, set aside from all other men in the way he got dressed every morning and undressed every night?
As a young girl I had no experiential knowledge to compare her pronouncement to. My life experiences were severely limited and there was nothing enlightening that I could relate this almost offhand comment to.
This morning as I was standing in the shower the events of this summer day came rushing back to me as clear almost as if I was leaning against my mother's arm again, which on some days I long for deeply. My uncle is now gone as is most of my aunties, mother, and gram who all sat around the kitchen table over thirty years ago. My aunt is still alive, a little softer in the jowls, a little longer in the tooth and definitely moving much slower than she did in the early 70’s.
As I got out of the shower and imparted this memory to my husband he repeated “he is just a man” and it was an immediate moment of clarity for me. Now as I near my fiftieth birthday with many years of my own life experiences I can now understand her declaration. It was her way of coming to grips with his infidelity and her own pain; it was also her way of giving him legroom to make a mistake without it ending their relationship or their marriage. All people make mistakes; he was no worse, and no better than anyone else—he too put his pants on one leg at a time—like everyone else.
Many people have asked themselves if they could forgive their partner if they were to find out that they cheated on them. They do survey’s for Cosmopolitan and Glamour and publish statistics of how many men and women are unfaithful in their relationships, how many divorce as a result of their disloyalty. In that moment my auntie had made up her mind, she either had to forgive him or forgo her marriage. My other aunties, my mom, and grandmother had all accepted her decision as evidenced by their tacit agreement. I saw it in their eyes and the miniscule almost invisible nodding of their heads in unison, not understanding then what I was seeing.
They stayed together, my Aunt Pen and Uncle Don and somehow worked through the pain and loss of a broken trust. My Uncle Don passed away over two years ago and Aunt Pen was at his side as he courageously struggled against a cancer that in the end he could not defeat. He was after all, just a man with all his foibles and failures; nevertheless, she loved him and stayed by his side until the end.
This one really touched a chord.
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