Product Review

Spring,1969.

We met on Lover's Lane in Southborough, Massachusetts. Since I was the only one who owned a car, I was relunctantly chauffeuring three singles to a party. When we arrived, he was leaning against the door, drink in hand, looking us over. After he took our wraps and brought them inside, he sought me out.

Ed was a widower looking to remarry. I had recently left the convent to teach the disadvantaged in the inner city of Boston and was recovering from abandoning one vocation and attempting to adjust to another. Studying for my Master's degree in counseling and racial relations completely engrossed me.

I had no wish to be distracted by a diversion.

Things happen. We began seeing each other. Six weeks later, when Ed proposed marriage, I threw my jacket at him.

"Are you out of your mind? We've known each other exactly six weeks. I haven't met your family and you haven't met mine. Just how do you think your five children are going to act when you bring a strange woman into your house?" He said he didn't think I was that strange even though I might have a few quirks being a Democrat and all.

I told him I didn't think that was cute, to stop being smart and that we should get to know each other better. We did, sort of. While friends and family rolled their eyes in disbelief, we married a few months later.

I had taught high school and elementary and had no qualms about taking on the responsibility of four teens and one eight year old. Granted, they were far from being sheep, but they were normal children, all in school, not jail. Why was everyone so nervous?

With good reason.

So began the great adventure. Somehow, we managed to survive the Seventies. I watched as the three older boys, disenchanted with high school academics, joined the service, later enrolled in college and excelled. Plenty of shenanigans from all five along the way.

Ed's Palce is a love story, a memoir of two radically different personalities and of the adventures of a large, active family. Find a quiet palce to read the book so people won't startle when you laugh out loud.

And don't forget the Kleenex.