Coming to Colorado: A Young Immigrantâ??s Journey to Become an American Flyer

CHAPTER 24. Differences and Choices

Differences and Choices CHAPTER 24 { 277 } DIFFERENCES AND CHOICES Winter in Norfolk County was cold, wet, and miserable. Although there wasn’t much snow, the high humidity made the place seem colder than it really was. Icy roads and frequent early morning fogs made driving in our little sports car a challenge. Harriet and I never really felt warm and comfortable that winter until we were in bed. Cold or not, I recall those winter months of 1955 to 1956 as the happiest days of our unlikely marriage, marred only by the bizarre New Year’s Eve incident, which I rationalized away. The American couple who rented Sir Francis Bacon’s castle occasionally invited us over for tea. We continued to be part of the Baileys’ social life and continued to share outings and evenings with Bob and Celia. Our social life, including frequent visits to London, was more than a young couple at age twenty, living in a foreign country, had a right to expect. Harriet did not complain, and I had hopes that she was actually accommodating to the realities of our world. She apparently managed to stay in touch with her parents and friends in Texas, although Mrs. Bailey, who handled the financial affairs in her household, never mentioned a telephone bill when I paid her our monthly rent in crisp five-pound notes. In late March 1956 Harriet informed me that her parents would arrive in London in April on an extended visit. “You remember me telling you about being presented to the Queen? Well, it seems it’s going to happen. Dad has it arranged. Texas politics. You know what I mean.” She smiled. I didn’t know what she meant. I had no insight into Texas politics. Then, as if in passing, or as an afterthought, she casually said, “I’ve missed my period, darling. I think I am pregnant.” “What? We were so careful.” “Well, it happened. And if I am going to be presented to the Queen, I can’t go there with a big belly, can I? So you understand my presentation will have to happen sooner rather than later.” I was totally unprepared for the news. Personally I didn’t mind us having a baby. But I didn’t think Harriet wanted children so soon. I had trouble imagining her as a mother, with her near total focus on herself. I wasn’t sure about my role as a father either. It was all kind of scary. The subject of children had never come up between us. It was something remote, for older people, not kids like { 278 } DIFFERENCES AND CHOICES us barely out of our teens. So her casual acceptance of her pregnancy surprised me, as much as her continuing focus on being presented to a queen who meant nothing to us as Americans. “Whydoyou,asanAmerican,careaboutbeingpresentedtotheQueen of England?” I asked her, unable to keep a little annoyance out of my voice. After all, she hadn’t shared things with me until the last moment—her parents unexpected visit, her pregnancy, and what I thought to be a stupid presentation to a monarch of a foreign land. “It’s not an American thing. Forget about it, and try to enjoy our stay here while it lasts. Why can’t you do that? The Queen has no relevance in our world. Who the heck cares if you are presented to her or not? The Queen is an English thing, an anachronism left over from another time, good for the British tourist industry. Can’t you see that? You’ve already met the Queen Mother, shook her hand, conversed with her one on one. That should be enough even for you.” Harriet gave me a cold stare. “It may not be important to you,” she replied icily, “but it is to me.” That was that. Queen, parents, and baby were things she meant to deal with in her own fashion. We drove to London the last Thursday in April, took a room in the Strand Palace, ate an early dinner, and attended a play. The next morning we took a cab to Heathrow Airport to meet her parents. Their plane was three hours late, but eventually we saw it coming in for a landing, slow and low, a Pan American World Airways DC-6. A half-hour later, after having passed through British customs, Harriet’s mink-stole-wrapped...