The Question Posed: Can you love someone who doesn’t exist?

I mean it. Can you?

I don’t mean a fictional person such as Tess, who emerged out of Thomas Hardy’s imagination. Yes, I love her, too, in a way.

But no. I’m talking about actual love. The way you love a real human being whom you know.

Let me explain. I’m an only child. Others I knew, kids in the neighborhood while growing up, all had brothers and/or sisters. But not me. It was a stigma – being called a “spoiled child” and such. I didn’t think I was spoiled; I didn’t feel that way – nor did I like it. But I had no choice. My parents had no more children after I was born.

Yet, I now know why I was slapped with this ignominy. Well, at least, I think I do.

It’s all because of the diary that my mother kept – a diary that’s been sitting on my shelf ever since she died thirteen years ago. Reading her story now has answered my question of why I am an only child, and furthermore has led me to the conviction that we can love someone who doesn’t exist.

To understand what I mean, we must begin with the diary and my reading of it. From this, everything follows, and leads me to my conviction that there exists this other way of loving; namely, loving someone who doesn’t exist.

The Diary

My mother kept a ten-year daily diary from Jan. 1,1934 to Dec. 31,1943. It is written in fountain-pen ink, in careful cursive penmanship, that’s generally easy to read. The latter entries are easier to read than the earlier ones although there are occasional words that I can’t decipher.

The format of the diary limits each entry to four lines per day. That’s about 100 letters and spaces. I will occasionally quote from those diary entries that are relevant to my story: usually selected passages within a given day.

I am starting with those entries concerning my mother’s relationship with my father and going to the end – which is the first year of my life. As I go through these entries, my comments on specific passages are in italics.

My parents’ dates: Alice Topper (1919-2011) & Roy Topper (1916-2002).

Mother’s Diary: Pittsburgh, Pa. in the fall of 1940. My mother is 21 years old, has graduated from High School and is working at a clerical job that she generally likes.

Mon., Sept. 9, 1940: My mother registers at Schenley High night school, for art classes.

Wed. Sept. 18: Her first art class. In subsequent entries, she says the classes are boring and occasionally she misses them.

Wed. Nov. 20: Complaining about her job and she adds: “I’m tired of night school.”

Wed. Dec. 11: Skipped school again.

Wed. Dec. 18: First mention of Roy. “Roy is drawing me at school & he really is flattering me – P.S. he can draw and how!!!!” This makes me think. If she had dropped out of that art class, I would not be writing this – or anything. Oh well, she didn’t; and here I am.

Fri, Dec. 20: “Roy finished my portrait and the fee is a date. He is now going to mount it for me!! Some swell boy!”

Mon. Dec. 23: “I’m disappointed – [my] mother doesn’t like my portrait.” She is, of course, referring to my grandmother, with whom she was living. This may be an omen, as will be seen.  

Wed. Dec. 25: “Out dancing with Roy – he gave me a bed jacket [i.e., a housecoat; a strange gift?]. Swell time & I know he really likes me & I like the way he dances.”  Note: she doesn’t say she likes him, just his dancing; but he likes her.

Thurs. Dec. 26: “I wonder if Roy thought of that song he wanted – something to remember from our first date!!”

Fri. Dec. 27: “Roy called for a date tomorrow. The song he wanted to request was ‘May I Never Love Again.’ Oh boy!!!”

Sat. Dec. 28: “Went to a dance hall with Roy. He sure treats me grand!! A date Monday & Tues. I very much like his dancing & the places he takes me!”

Tues. Dec. 31. “A nice time [with Roy] but he wants me to go steady & I won’t – ever!! My mother often told me that, starting in her late teen years, she was determined never to get married – ever.

In the end-of-year Diary Memorandum she writes: “One grand year of golf with fun – only I’m afraid Roy is too serious – I hope he isn’t too much because it will be just too bad, I’m afraid.” My mother loved golf, tennis and playing the violin and piano. She is obviously thinking of dumping Roy. Also note that she mentioned golf before Roy.

1941

Roy calls every day.

Sat. Jan. 5: “He really loves me, so he says & wants me to try to love him. ― I like him very much though!”

They are still meeting at art school.

Wed. Jan. 15: “Roy is so serious. Last night he said he was a complete failure because I don’t love him enough. I don’t know what to do!”

Fri. Jan. 17: “Down at night school. Met Roy’s brother & I do not like him. Roy is really serious – he proposed last night & is also getting a new car!” This is a strange juxtaposition of topics. I assume this was a proposal of marriage, one of the turning points in any life, and yet she links it with a new car, as if the final exclamation point refers to the car rather than the proposal. What were you thinking, Mother? My father’s brother was Ray (or Raymond), who had a very different personality. As a kid, I always liked Uncle Ray. He enjoyed telling funny stories and playing practical jokes on people. As an adult; however, I realized that some of this entailed an underlying hostility. I believe this was a result of his having been a POW in the War. 

Sat. Jan. 18: “First ride in Roy’s Dodge. He wanted me to promise I’ll wait for him if he must go – that is such a big promise!?” The background to this is World War II, with the possibility that the U.S. may enter the war. The Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor didn’t happen until Dec 7 of that year, and that’s when the U.S. entered the war. In fact, my father did get drafted much later: he served from Jan. 1944 to March 1946. Regarding the car: for almost all the years I lived at home, my father bought Dodge cars.

Sun. Jan. 19: “I guess I do love him, and don’t even know it! I wonder if that could be [?]”

Mon. Jan. 20: “I love the cute way he proposes and his wonderful poems.” I knew of these poems, even as a child, but I don’t know what happened to them.

Wed. Jan 22: Mentions another poem. “He has such sweet qualities & I love his company so very much.”

Fri. Jan. 24: And another poem. “He is the sweetest person to me I ever knew!”

Sat. Jan. 25: A date. “It was wonderful and he really is too good to me – I hope it will be always!”

Sun. Jan. 26: “We wrote a song together. Roy has a perfect ear for music – he is really wonderful – can do so many things well.” This brings up the topic of music, so important in her life. My mother played the violin, mainly in the High School orchestra. She played the piano at home. Having an ear for music, she could play songs without sheet music. My father, too, could play any song with one hand at the piano; but he seldom did, and never seriously. It wasn’t until he was in the early stages of dementia that I saw him sit at the piano and play one-finger tunes. Regarding singing: I vividly recall my mother washing dishes and my father drying them, while singing the old tunes, in harmony. They could do that.

Mon. Jan. 27: “Tonight I really discovered I loved him!! We could hardly say goodnight. He even shed a tear for me and I know he loves me!”

Wed. Jan. 29: “Tonight I gave in & said I would marry him. He is so glad and I’m sure I like him so very much (Engaged).”

End-of-month Memo: “One grand month just being with Roy and loving him more than ever. He is just tops with me!!!!”

Tues, Feb. 4: “We discussed Children & he doesn’t seem to want many.” This will be relevant later, needless to say, since I’m an only child.

Wed. Feb. 5: Roy here. … It was grand … – but our talk about children????” Again, a mention of children, as if she doesn’t agree with him. Unfortunately, this is all I could find on this topic. But there clearly is an issue here between them, with my father wanting a limit, it seems.

Fri. Feb. 9: “I love him more each day, and his wonderful poems!”

Mon. Feb. 17: “I can’t write what I want to say – but I only hope Roy understands why I do the things I do – because I do love him & that is why I do them.” There are other places in her diary where she says she can’t write what she feels or thinks. I believe this is common in many diaries of women, or anyone.

Sat. Mar. 8: “Our engagement. It was just perfect, picking it out myself – I think it’s the most beautiful ring & Roy the most wonderful boy.”

Wed. Mar. 12: “Poor Roy – everything went wrong. He broke his picture frame & my golf bag was ruined. I really saw him angry and I didn’t like it.” I don’t quite see the causality here – but that she saw Roy’s anger (presumably for the first time) is important.

They continue to either see each other or talk on the phone daily. Everything is perfect; she is so happy.And then there are these four entries.

Thur. Apr. 3: “Roy acted differently to-night. I hope nothing is wrong – if there would be he would tell me. I know he wouldn’t keep anything from me.”

Fri. Apr. 4: “Everything is just fine. I guess he was just tired last night. We get along just so perfectly wonderful.”

Mon. June 9: “We act like two married people – I only wish we wouldn’t hurt each other at times!”

Tues. June 10: “There are days like now that make me wonder if our married life is going to be perfect. After all we all have our own opinions?” Nonetheless, she doesn’t break up with him.

Indeed, the wedding was planned for July 4. 1941. Had a Shower on June 19.

 

*** Look for future segments of David’s story throughout the month. ***
11/12/24 – Part 2
11/19/24 – Part 3
11/26/24 – Part 4