|By: Paul S. Cilwa||Viewed: 12/11/2018
|Topics/Keywords: #Autobiography #Titusville #Florida #AdamParkerPye||Page Views: 1605|
|All I know about my high school girlfriend's baby.|
When I was a sophomore in high school, my school, St. Joseph Academy, had both "day" students and "boarding" students. I dated one of the boarders, Marrianne Pye, that year, which was the last St. Joe had boarders. So, after that, I could no longer date her, since she lived in Titusville, Florida, about a 2 hours' drive south of me. But we remained friends, exchanging letters on a monthly basis.
After graduation, I occasionally visited her; we even talked to each other on long-distance once in awhile. And that's how I learned she'd gotten a new boyfriend, and pregnant, and was going to move away with him to some remote (Missouri?) location.
A few months later, she was back at home with her mother and stepfather. The boyfriend had turned out to be abusive; Marianne had to knock him out with an iron skillet in self-defense. When he came to, Marianne had already left.
This is, of course, completely contrary to Catholic doctrine; and Marianne knew this full well. Still…it was a priest who said it, and thus it carried a lot of weight. This became one of the reasons I left the Church: too many ignorant and bigoted people end up in positions of authority and from there gleefully ruin people's lives. While I'm sure these people are in the minority, nevertheless the very structure of organized religion supports this kind of abuse.
She called me very upset one day. It seems she had gone to confession, like a good Catholic; and the priest had told her that her unwed pregnancy was the "one sin God would never forgive" and that she was going to hell and nothing she did or said could change that.
And so…there she was. In Titusville, two hours south of me, pregnant, and broken.
How could I resist?
And so I wrote her a proposal letter.
It was beautiful. It was eight pages long, carefully written in perfect penmanship. Every other page contained a poem of love; in between were all the reasons she should marry me: Support, another parent, someone who would never, ever strike her or give her cause to be defensive.
Nowhere in this proposal did I actually say I was in love. Because I wasn't. I just wanted to rescue her.
It was probably the gayest marriage proposal ever.
A few days after sending it, I called to see if it had arrived. It had.
So…what did she think upon reading it?
"I laughed," she said. Apparently, somehow, she'd thought I wasn't serious. She never actually turned me down, and I never actually rescinded. But, obviously, we weren't going to marry.
Anyway, she gave birth to Adam Parker Pye, and I drove down to see the baby. That's when these photos were taken.
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By 1973, Marianne had gotten married to one John Scoville and had another baby, Jason; and, since she wasn't able to get along with either her parents or John, I invited her, with my then-wife Mary Ann's permission, to stay in our spare bedroom in Fort Lauderdale. She did, in fact, spend a couple of weeks with us, during which I fell all the more in love with her toddler, Adam.
But she moved out suddenly; and a couple years later she wrote and explained that she "couldn't stay—not after what Mary had said" about her. When I called and asked what in the world Mary had said (because neither Mary nor I could think of a thing), she wouldn't tell us, saying only that we "must know".
The next time I heard anything about her was when I received a letter from her mother, containing a newspaper clipping of Marianne's obituary. She had died of lupus, the disease in which the body eats away at itself.
Lupus is a disease in which the immune system attacks healthy tissues; and, according to metaphysician Louise Hay, occurs when a person's self-loathing is out of countrol. Could that priest's cruel statement have exacerbated this?
And, in looking up details for this post, I discovered that John Scoville passed away just last year (February, 2015), never having remarried, and with Jason as his only survivor.