A “Becoming” excerpt in sequence: “Reactions”

July 5, 1955, to August 29, 1955

Chicago, Illinois/Staten Island, New York

Tuesday being the Fourth of July there was no mail.

On Wednesday Marsha Goldman came home from work, as usual, at 5:45. Her father as usual was still at work. And Rhea Goldman was…?

It had been a long, hot day and she missed Mitchell terribly. Highly depressed since he’d left three days ago, Marsha had no idea how she was going to exist until she saw him again.

On her way to the kitchen, passing the dining room table she stopped, turned around and, barely able to contain herself, ripped the roughly wrapped brown-bag paper and opened the cardboard box.

Her first reaction was to laugh. Then realizing what it really meant...

Holding Mitchell’s note in one hand and the garish, novelty store diamond ring in the other, she began to cry.

****

7/2/55

Dear Marsha,

When we said goodbye and I got on the plane and left you today, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life.

I cannot imagine life without you in the future. God knows I’ve been lonely before, but never like this. I know this ring isn’t much, but I’ve spent my entire life’s savings buying it. So until I can afford another one, maybe even a real one, please consider it as an engagement ring (but you don’t really have to wear it). And please, please say that you will marry me.

I love you more than life itself.

**** 

Reading the note again. “Oh, my God!” she said to empty apartment. “Yes! Yes, Mitchell! Thank you, God! Thank you! Elated. Confused. Marsha did not know what to do or who to call first.

****

“Rosalie!” she shouted into the phone as soon as it was picked up.

“Marsha?” She never called her ‘Rosalie’ unless there was something wrong. “What’s wrong, Marsha?”

“Rose! Mitchie… He sent me a ring and a letter and asked if I’d marry him!”

“Really, Marsha? ‘Really’!?”

“Yes, ‘really’!”

“And he sent you a diamond ring?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “From the ten-cent store. But it’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe it!”

“So, what are you going to tell him?”

Knowing she knew that Rosalie ‘knew’ she was going to accept,.

“Are you ‘nuts’? I’d walk to New York and marry him right now if I could!”

“Your folks know yet?”

“No! You know no one’s home. I called you first.”

“Think your mother’ll have any objections?”

“She never wanted me in the first place and now’s her chance to get rid of me altogether. And, to be honest, I don’t give a damn what she thinks.”

Reflecting a moment. “You’re the first of us to go,” Rosalie said. “Good luck, Marcie. I hope you have lots’a kids.”

“Yeah, thanks, Rose. Me, too! Look, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

****

Six o’clock here, she thought. New York’s an hour later. Wonder if he’s on the ship.

She’d put the scrap of paper in her wallet when he gave it to her…

****

“ ‘C. G,C, Halfmoon’!”

‘Electricians Mate Second Class Raymond Carson’ — the Officer of the Deck— answered the telephone in the watch shack alongside the aft gangway.

“This is the Chicago operator. I have a person-to-person call to Seaman First Class Mitchell Lipensky.”

“Hold on a minute, operator, let’s see if he’s aboard tonight.” Checking the duty roster, Mitchell’s section did have liberty, but he hadn’t gone ashore. “He’s here, operator. Hang on, will you?”

“Lipensky, lay to the quarterdeck!” The call coming through the loudspeakers reverberating throughout the ship. “Lipensky! To the quarterdeck. On the double!”

“Christ!” Writing a letter to Marsha, he was lying on his bunk in his underwear with a note pad propped on his knees. Thinking, What the hell do they want now? Swinging off the bunk, he shoved his cap on his head and his legs back into the denims he’d taken off no more than ten minutes earlier….

“Carson, I’m on liberty! Why the hell you callin’ me?”

“Keep your shirt on, Lippy, you got a call.”

Unless an emergency, local calls were not accepted. Long distance calls were accepted only for the time needed to ascertain who was calling so the information could be passed onto the man called. However Carson had taken his share of Mitchell’s pennies and nickels at their penny-ante poker games.

“Oh,” sheepishly, “sorry, Ray.” His first thought was that something was wrong at home. Picking the phone up with apprehension. “Hello.”

“Mitchell Lipensky?”

“Yes, operator, I’m Mitchell Lipensky.”

“One moment, please.”

Still excited, “ ‘Mitchie’!” her voice boomed over the phone.

“Marcie!” Overjoyed at hearing her voice again. “Hi, baby!”

“Mitchie, I got it! ‘Yes’! ‘Yes’! I will!”

“My God,” he said softly. “Thank you, baby. Thank you!”

“I miss you! I love you!”

Looking at Carson. “Me, too, Marcie!”

“You know,” Carson whispered, “you ain’t supposed to get calls here. Okay, just for a couple minutes.”

Giving Mitchell some privacy, Carson walked to the fantail.

“I can’t wait to do it! When do you want to?”

“The sooner the better,” she answered. “I can’t wait either.”

“Your folks know yet?”

“No, I haven’t even seen them yet. Do yours?”

“How could they?” Laughing, “You just told me ‘you would’.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m so nervous… Mitchie, how’ll we be able to afford it? I mean, my living away from home and us having to pay rent and our own bills and things.”

“You’re working now, aren’t you? And when you get to New York you’ll be able to say you have experience as a… uh?”

“ ‘Corsetier’.”

“Yeah. And as a, uh, ‘corsetier’ you’ve got to make pretty good money, right? And I checked with my pal Don—he’s the yeoman aboard— and he told me you’ll get an allotment check of $91.30 a month and I get paid too, don’t forget, with a wife about twenty-two bucks a month. I know it’s not much but it’s enough to buy groceries with. Which, by the way, we can buy at a ‘PX’ and with that and what you’ll be making we should be able to get by ok...

I don’t know if I told you, but I’ve been taking a yeoman’s correspondence course that…” he admitted, “I’ve been ‘schluffing off’ on. But now that I’ve got a reason I’ll get back to it. And if I make a higher grade, we’ll get more money.”

“I know you can do it, Mitchie. And now that you’ve told me, I’m ‘sure’...”—she hoped—“...that we’ll manage just fine…

When do you think you can take leave again so you can come home and we can, uh…” still unbelievable, finding it hard to say “...get married?”

“I checked on that, too. Right now I still have a week coming, but I’ve just had leave and there’s other guys here that want it before our next patrol. Probably when we get back, in October.”

“October! My birthday’s in October. That’s just fine, sweetheart.”

‘Sweetheart’! No one had ever called him sweetheart before. The familiar lump coming to his throat, “Marcie, honey, I love you!”

“Please, Mitchie, don’t ever stop saying that.” Laughing, “I must really love you. You realize that I’ll be giving up a beautiful name like ‘Goldman’ for ‘Lipensky’.” Immediately realizing that what she’d said might have hurt his feelings; quickly making amends: “ ‘Mrs. Mitchell Lipensky’. God, that sounds great!”

He’d never thought of his name as being particularly ugly, and did feel a slight flush of… but, instantly placated by ‘Mrs. Mitchell Lipensky’. “Yeah,” he said, “the things we do for love.”

Surprised at them coming home together..“Hi!…

“Mitchie, mother and daddy just came in and I want to tell them.”

“Tell them ‘what’?” Rhea asked from the living room.

“I’ll tell you in a minute, mother…”

Turning her back, speaking softly. “Mitchie, why don’t you call your folks and let them know. Then reverse the charges and call me back, and let me know what they said.”

“Sure, honey. I’ll call back in a little while. Bye-bye.”

“Bye, Mitchie.”

“Hey, Ray,” he called. “Thanks! I’m getting married!”

“No shit?” Flipping his cigarette over the side. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Going below. Opening the door to his locker he took a some change from his wallet and put his cap onto his head

Back topside. Saluting the flag as he starting down the gangway. “Got a couple’a calls I gotta make, Ray.”

“Sure, Lippy, go ahead.”

Leaving the ship. Walking to the row of telephone booths by the facility’s entrance. Fishing a nickel from his pocket, Mitchell dialed “O.”

Chicago/Skokie, Illinois/Staten Island, New York

Reactions

Chicago, Illinois

“Mother, daddy,” Thinking the best way to say it was just to say it. “Mitchell asked me to marry him…” Putting the phone on the cradle, walking past them into the living room. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, fully expecting her father to be happy for her and her mother to be negative. “and I told him I would.”

Eli’s mouth dropped open. Swallowing, blinking his eyes a number of times a look of sadness coming to his face. “Baby, you mean ‘now’, while he’s in the service? And you’ll leave here...” encompassing the room with a sweep of his arm, “...and go to New York?” Following Marsha. Sitting heavily onto one of the easy chairs. “He expects you to leave your family...” Eli said unbelievably, “...and move all the way to New York City!”

Surprised at his attitude. “Daddy, yes. We love each other!”

Simply put, Eli could ‘not’ imagine life without his daughter. Simply put, Marsha was often the one person in the world that could make Eli smile.

Married! Eli thought, My baby married and away. Far away! He’d never thought of Marsha getting married. And this young? Why, she’s not even nineteen yet…

Yet Rhea was only sixteen when she and Eli had married. “How will you live?” he asked desperately. “Mitchell can’t make enough money to support the two of you in the, uh…?”

“Coast Guard, Daddy. We’ve talked about that. Mitchell said that I’ll get an, uh... allotment check from the government each month. And he gets paid for being in the service. I’ll have to work, of course, but I’m working now anyway. And with my ‘Lanathins’ training and a recommendation I shouldn’t have a problem finding another job. I know you’re worried, Daddy, but we’ll get by okay.”

“Well, baby, Mitchell seems like a real nice boy…” Attempting to smile, Eli’s smile was but a thin veneer and— his sadness at losing his daughter showing through— “...if that’s what you want, then I’m happy for you.” But at that moment, Eli Goldman ‘hated’ Mitchell Lipensky.

Coming to the sofa, sitting next to her daughter. “I’m so happy for you!” Sincerely said and, ‘oddly’ meaning it…

Not as her daughter imagined—because her mother was going to be rid of her—but with Roger married and he, his wife and infant daughter strangely distant. And her daughter soon to be married— with or without her blessing— A shock to her conscience, Rhea felt as though a part of her life was about to end and for the first time since the birth of her daughter Rhea felt maternal and a ‘need’ to make amends.

Further surprising Marsha, and herself. “Would you like a wedding, Marsha?” Rhea asked. “A ‘real’ wedding?”

Stunned! Marsha realized that her mother was sincerely happy for her.

Also, she saw something she had never seen her mother do—at least as far as she could remember—she was crying and Marsha felt something from her mother that she had ‘never’ felt: maternal love.

“Mother,” fighting back tears, “do you want to make me a wedding?”

“Baby...”

‘Baby’?

...squeezing her daughter’s hand for emphasis, “...we’d love…” glancing at Eli, then back to her daughter, “...to make you a wedding.”

Spoken emphati as though by doing this she were able to wipe away near-nineteen years of neglect and indifference.

Knowing his wife. Having some idea of what she meant by ‘a wedding’. “But, Re, the money?”

Looking at Eli. “Don’t worry about the money!”

“Yes, sure,” Eli said sincerely. “Nothing’s too good for my baby.”

Standing, Eli went into the bathroom, closed the door, sat on the edge of the bathtub… and silently cried.

Skikie, Illinois

Walter and Myra looked at each other, each waiting for the other to get off the sofa and answer the telephone.

With a sigh. Putting his cup onto the coffee table. Pulling himself onto his feet, Walter crossed the den and, lifting the receiver, “Yes, operator,” looking at his wife, “we’ll accept the charges…”

“Mitchell, what’s wrong?”

Turning her attention from television, Myra looked at her husband.

“Nothing’s wrong, dad! I’ve got good news— ‘great’ news!”

Walter thought, and rightfully so, that Mitchell was wasting his time in the Coast Guard education-wise, just as he’d done in high school.

“Yeah, and what’s that?” he asked facetiously. “You get a promotion?”

“No, Dad…” Knowing his father was crazy about Marsha and ‘fully’ expecting him to be happy about this. “I’ve asked Marsha to marry me,” he said, “and she said yes.”

For a long moment the line was silent... Then, “Mitchell…” The tone of his voice causing Myra to come to the desk. “...you’re too young...” looking at his wife, “...to get married now.”

Myra’s hand going to her throat. “He wants to get ‘married’?”

“Come on, Dad. I’ll be twenty-one next month. Lots’a guys on the ship are married and most of ‘em,” he lied, “are even younger than me.”

Aware that there was not enough time to tell. Still, “Is Marsha pregnant?”

Angered at this. “How can you even ‘ask’ something like that? ‘No’! Of course not!”

“What are you going to do for money? Where do you plan on living?”

“She’ll get an allotment check and I get paid and she’ll work, just like she’s doing now, only here.

Look, you and mom have been telling me that I ought to look up your aunt ‘Ida’. So I thought I’d call her and go see her on my next weekend liberty, and maybe look for an apartment near her so at least we’ll have some family near by.”

“Mitchell, I’m telling you...” looking at his wife again, “...that your mother and I are ‘completely’ against this!”

“Okay, Dad...” his stubborn tone taking over, “...so now you’ve told me!”

“Think about it! This is for a long time. ‘Forever’! Marsha’s a nice girl…” truly, Walter was crazy about her, “...but why the rush? Why can’t you wait till you’re discharged? Until you know what you’re going to do with your life, and that’ll give the two of you time to get to know each other better.”

“Dad, Marcie and I have known each other for years. We love each other and want to be married, ‘now’! And when I get discharged I’m going to work for you as a salesman, like we’ve talked about. You ‘still’ want me to, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Walter said begrudging, “of ‘course’ I want you to!” … Myra,” giving the phone to his wife. “You try to talk some sense into your son!”

Going back to the sofa, he lit a cigarette.

“Mitchell, why now?” She asked angrily.

Making a V of her index and forefinger, motioning for Walter to give her a cigarette. He handed her the one he’d lit and reached for another for himself.

“Why the hell can’t you wait?”

Surprised at his mother’s tone of voice. “Mom, we love each other! We can’t stand being away from each other like this!”

A jealous possessiveness gripped Myra’s heart. Feeling she’d lost her husband to a boat, she was now loosing her eldest son to some girl. “Just how well do you ‘think’ you know her?”

“Well enough, Mom. We’ve known each other for more than six years.

“ ‘Bullshit’! So you met her six years ago? That doesn’t mean you ‘know’ her! Know what I think, Mitchell? I think you just want to get ‘laid’!”

In the back of his mind he remembered his mother had said this very same thing about Susan.

“No, Mom!”—Even if, yes, he most certainly did want to get laid — “How can you talk this way?”

Stopping short of re-asking if Marsha was pregnant. “Okay, mister smart-guy…” She’d heard her husband ask these same questions, but had not heard the answer. “…what are you going to do for money? Where’ll the two of you live?”

“Mom,” he said tiredly. “She’ll get a job like she’s got now, and she’ll get an allotment check from the government. And I’m going to look up aunt Ida and see if there’s someplace near her to live.”

Not giving up. “Why didn’t you talk to me first, before you asked… ‘her’?”

‘Her’? What the hell’s going on? Last I saw, she was crazy about Marsha, too.

“Talk to ‘you’ first?” he questioned. “Why, Mom? You think dad asked grandma Lipensky’s permission to ask you to marry him?”

“Your father was old enough to make his own decisions!”

“And I’m ‘not’?” he asked angrily.

“No, Mitchell, I ‘don’t’ think you are!”

“Okay, Mom, that’s your opinion! But we are going to get married whether you like it or not. I’ don’t’ need your permission, you know!”

“And a ‘wedding’? I suppose she’s going to want a wedding!”

“Mom, I don’t…”

“We can’t afford to make a wedding!”

****

The novelty of three-dimensional photography having declined over the past few years, Mitchell was aware that cheaper competition had taken a large chunk out of the studio’s monthly billing.

****

“Mom, first off, you ‘know’ Marsha’s name! And we didn’t have time to talk about a wedding but we do want to do it as quickly and cheaply as possible...I can’t get another leave till almost the middle of October, so that’s when we’ll do it.”

“Mom,” softening his tone, “I know that you’ve ‘always’ wanted a daughter. I know that you like Marsha and that she likes you. And if you think about it, it’s like you’re finally going to have a daughter.”

The thought had entered Myra’s mind. But having this girl, that she’d been with a total of three times, for a ‘daughter’ was far outweighed by the thought of losing her son. “It’s not exactly the same thing, Mitchell.”

“Okay, Mom. I’m ‘really’ sorry that you and dad feel this way, but Marsha’s a real nice girl and it’s completely up to you whether or not you’ll have her for a friend, or maybe even like a daughter.”

Digesting this. Pondering the word ‘daughter’. Knowing, if indeed Mitchell and Marsha did marry, that it might very well be up to her to make or break whatever type of relationship she may have with her future daughter-in-law… My daughter-in-law!

He waited for his mother to respond, but when she didn’t.“Mom, I want to get Marsha an engagement ring. You’ve been holding my Bar Mitzvah gelt and all my war bonds. You told me I got about eight hundred for my Bar Mitzvah, and I know that I’ve got to have at least twenty bonds that have matured by this time, and if there’s any that haven’t…”

Putting her hand over the receiver, whispering to Walter, “He wants his Bar Mitzvah money, and to have the war bonds cashed to get a ring for her.”

“…I’ll cash in anyway. Do you think we can get a nice ring for…”

Walter shrugged his shoulders.

Interrupting him. “Mitchie, we don’t have your money.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t have my money’? It is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course the money was yours…”

“ ‘Wa’s?”

“…but we had to use it for…”

“But I was counting on it for a ring, Mom.”

Becoming defensive. “Mitchell, we needed the money for business! We always planned on putting it back but when money was slow coming in, when things got real bad, we had to use it to pay bills.”

Shit! “Okay, okay! I’m glad it was there when you needed it, but I need some now! Can you give me ‘anything/?”

“Hold on.” Covering the receiver with her hand, “He wants to know what we can give him.”

“Tell him, uh, seven, eight hundred.”

“You father says we can give you a thousand, maybe twelve hundred.”

Shit! “Okay, Mom. It’s less than I expected, but if that’s all there is, I guess that’s all there is.”

Wanting to change the subject. “Mitchell?”

Extremely upset because they’d taken his money—the money that he’d counted on—without asking him. “Yeah, Mom?”

“Children? You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“You don’t want to be a grandma?”

‘Grandma’! The idea of being a grandmother hadn’t occurred to her and, Myra’s heart jumping/ “Yes, of course I want to be a grandma, but not until you can afford it… You will use rubbers won’t you?”

Rubbers? It had never occurred to him that his mother and father had used contraceptives. But then again, even at this time—about a month and a half from his twenty-first birthday— Mitchell Lipensky still could not imagine his mother and father having intercourse. And then again having his mother tell him to use ‘rubbers’ was more than just a ‘little’ disconcerting. Feeling the heat of embarrassment. “Yes, Mom,” he said. “I’ll be sure to use rubbers.”

“You’d better! …Well, if you insist on doing this, you may as well give me Marsha’s number so we can call and congratulate her, and meet our machetunim.”

“ ‘Machetunim’?”

“Your future in-laws, Marsha’s parents, Mister and Mrs… uh?”

“Goldman.”

“Yes, ‘Goldman’. The Goldmans and Lipenskys are about to become machetunim, and I want to invite them to dinner on Sunday so we can meet each other.”

“Great! That’s ‘great’, Mom! Marcie’s number is… You have a pencil?”

“Yes.”

“ ‘Sheldrake 3-4709’… And, Mom,...” ‘very’ relieved at her acceptance “...thank you.”

“Thanks for what?”

For accepting this. And for having the Goldmans for dinner.”

“I was young once, too.”

Looking at Walter, fleetingly wondering where the years had gone.

“Bye, Mitchie.”

 Next “Becoming” Excerpt in sequence: “The Mothers”