At those parties, in which I was supposed to connect with marriageable men, other mothers constantly bothered me, when and to whom I would get married. I had the feeling the older they were, the more pressing the issue was for them. Mind you, it was my life after all. Somehow, my heart always felt heavy, when the talk came to my marriage. Something was not right with it. Then, on the other hand my heart felt light, when I thought about standing on my own two feet. It especially felt light, when I thought about starting my own business. Having my own business, being my own master felt really good.
At one of those parties, I met a handsome young man, whom I had a lively conversation with. Unfortunately, he belonged to the least ranking families who had gotten invited. They were --- farmers. However, he was the only one with whom I did not talk about kids, family, mansions, power, money, status, duty and so forth. We talked about farming and horses, things I liked, and we talked about flying and aircraft, things he liked. I should say though that he talked about that later topic, because I had no bloody clue at the time. After a few dates (always with chaperon of course) we both felt a strong attraction to each other. My heart felt light being with him. He became my Alejandro. We fell in love, he was my boyfriend, to say it in modern terms. No sex, not even kissing each other was allowed. Every meeting happened under the eyes of a chaperon. My unfortunate Alejandro did have polio when he was a kid and one of his legs did not work right anymore. This handsome young man with the fucked up leg could ride horses, but he could never be an excellent rider. The farm had thus been given to his older brother, which it might have gotten to anyways and he was sent to the army instead. The first born of farmers, got the farm, the second got sent to the army, the third became a priest and hopefully, you did not be the fourth born son, because he could only either become a farm aid, or some type of servant or a criminal of sorts. Such was the tradition. In that regards, daughters were better off, no matter if you were the oldest or the youngest, you could still get the best marriage. Now as my lovely friend was the second born, he got sent to the army, despite his leg. Maybe, he was lucky, because he did not have a younger brother with whom he could swap. Him becoming a priest would have been a real waste of gorgeous material. Now if you wanted to be someone in the Mexican army back then, you had to be excellent in riding or with the sword, better with both. Mind you, if one had a fucked up leg, one could neither be excellent with either. If you wanted to become an officer, then most important was to have connections. If you wanted to climb up the career ladder as an officer, you had to be an excellent rider and swordsman and even more importantly, your family had to be part of the inner circle. Alejandro's father was modestly wealthy and he had connections, so he pulled the right strings to get Alejandro into the military academy for officers. With his fucked up leg however, there were pretty much only two options for him, first was to become an artillery officer or second a pilot in the newly founded Mexican air force. He managed to get into the air force and man he loved flying. It was his life. He had found his passion.
My Alejandro was inspired and excited about flying. So on our fourth date, he brought me to the airfield, where the Vought V-99s biplanes of the Mexican Air Force were parked. He whispered to me, if I wanted to sit in the aircraft, so that the chaperon did not hear it. I did not have so much of a desire to sit in an aircraft at that time, but on the other hand, it was a rather rare opportunity and thus I thought why not take it? After all, my potential future husband had suggested it and a woman should show compassion in the works of her husband. Now some chaperons were easy going, while other's were stringent. Today one of my aunts was the chaperon and she could as well have become a prison guard. Alejandro helped me into the bi-plane and the chaperon was already crying, that it was not a modest action for a woman to enter an aircraft. While scolding her life away, the chaperon approached the aircraft, but by the time she got close, I was already seated. Angrily, my aunt, reprimanded us and demanded, that I come out of the aircraft immediately, but I lied, that my dress had gotten entangled in one of the levers. Alejandro, offered to help, but the chaperon immediately stopped him in his tracks. A man was not allowed to muck around with the dress of a woman. God forbid, he could see her legs. Now, she herself climbed onto the wings in order to help me out again. Well, she had no bloody clue about planes and that one may only step on certain areas of the wing. Right there, the canvas covering the wing ripped, her foot crashed through and she herself got stuck in between the ribs of the wing with one leg. A number of crewmen approached the plane, cursed, scolded and then helped her out of her predicament. It was most embarrassing for her. God forbid, one might have gotten a glimpse of her old, wrinkled, varicosious legs. After the successful rescue mission, she was busy tending to her leg and arranging her dress. For some reason, my heart felt light thinking about flying with this aircraft. Well, those few seconds were our chance and I ordered Alejandro to get into the plane. He started the motor, and in response, the chaperon got on her feet, waved with her hands and yelled. The engine however was so loud, that we did not hear her. A bit hesitant, she wanted to come closer to the aircraft, but a crewman already grabbed her hand, stopped her in her hostile mission and made her aware, that she was, under no circumstances, to approach an aircraft with rotating propellers. Alejandro took the aircraft of the ground and flew me around a bit. That day, I fell in love with flying. I enjoyed the wind messing with my hair, the bird's eye view of the world and the powerful forces acting on my body. Flying made my heart feel so light. It is the closest thing to being in heaven with the angels that I know.
After we had landed and left the aircraft again, doom was awaiting us. What else would you expect from an undercover prison guard on a hostile chaperon mission? My aunt, immediately interrupted our date and made us go home. My mother slapped me for the impertinence I had displayed. People would now call me a lose woman without decency. Mind you, I was not even the one piloting. In her fury, my mother forbade any further dates with Alejandro.
I got grounded and I cried in my room. No more dates with Alejandro. I loved him and I wanted to see him again. In the evening, my dad brought me food into my room. He did not say anything, which was an even bigger punishment, than the smacks I had received from my mother, earlier. I cried again. Before he closed the door to my room, he turned around and asked, if I loved Alejandro. Crying, I nodded: "El es mi Tesoro!"
A few minutes later, my mother came in and slapped me again. I had no idea what I had done wrong now? My cheek felt sore already. Next she lectured me that I had to meet Alejandro again and that I had to suggest to him, to pedir. If we'd get engaged, then our free like birds excursion would be tolerated by society. Turned out, it had been my father's idea.
During our next date I thought about how I'd bring that topic across, without looking desperate or even unworthy and ridiculous. Suddenly however, Alejandro asked me, if I would be OK with him to pedir? Off course I was! So, after this our fifths date, he came to our house, to pedir, to ask my dad for my hand.
I was 16, almost 17 when the day of my marriage had arrived. According to my mom, this was the most important, most beautiful, most exhilarating and most exiting day in my life. Again, my mother and I with the help of many of our servants had worked for a week to prepare the reception. Which was mainly food and drinks. The Padrinos and Madrinas (witnesses to the marriage, best man and maid of honor) were responsible for the rest, like the church, the decoration of the church, the kneeling pillows, the Arras Matrimoniales (13 gold coins in a box), el lazo, the bridal bouquet, the Mariachies (musicians), the carriage and other less important stuff, like the feeding of the poor. The parents of the groom, were responsible to provide a home for the newly wedded couple. Standard was an apartment. It could be anything from a rented apartment up to a fully paid apartment. Usually, a portion of the apartment was paid and the rest had to be paid by the couple over time. The type of home very much depended on social background though. The wedding itself was very traditional off course. Alejandro's and my family were known. The marriage was also a matter of showing off, of promoting our families and as such the guest list was long and a cathedral was needed. A Mexican marriage happens during a mass. Thus the church is open to everybody. The front rows are reserved for the invited guests, but the back is open for everybody to attend. When wealthy people married, then also many uninvited would come and as such a cathedral was necessary. It was embarrassing, when people had to remain outside of the church. For our wedding, nothing less than the Catedral de la Asunción de María de la Ciudad de México was sufficient. After all, my first name was Maria.
My parents and I arrived at the cathedral with our car and my dad took me by the hand and guided me inside. My mom followed. The cathedral was pretty full. It was not bursting full, there were still some rows empty, but someone told me later, that he had estimated about a thousand to twelve hundred people. It was impressive marching between all those people. All eyes were on me. My wedding dress was big and so far, my mom and a servant had helped me dealing with it, but inside the church I was on my own in regards and I told myself: Don't trip, just don't trip. Don't sprall out flat in front of everybody! My dad was crying. He led me to the front of the dais, where Alejandro was already kneeling and I knelt right beside him. I was relieved, I had been spared the shame of tripping and spraling out flat on the ground in front of everybody. God forbid, my legs might have gotten exposed. Once I was on my knees, Alejandro grabbed my hand and did not let go of it again. I looked him in the eye and knew this was the right thing to do. My heart rejoced. Once my parents were seated, the priest started with the cermon. It was long and I was happy for every opportunity, during which I could stand. The rest of the people could sit, then stand and then kneel and then sit again. Alejandro and I could just kneel and stand. Finally, finally, the priest came to the vows. We both gave our YES and then the Padrino handed us the rings, which we put on the other ones ringfinger. After that, the Padrino brought forth the Arras Matrimoniales, the 13 gold coins and Alejandro presented them to me. Those coins were mine and I took them, thanked him and passed them on to the Madrina to keep them safe for now. Thereafter, came a lengthy Eucharesty and finally, really finally, the priest blessed us, blessed our marriage and released us. My knees hurt from all the kneeling and I was glad I could stand now. Walking was a bit difficult in the beginning, but I would have a lot more walking and standing to do that day.
I thought, we were finished with the church now, but I still had to present my bridal bouquet of flowers to the Virgin Mary. I knelt down in front of her alter (another alter in a side aisle) and placed the bouquet on the alter. Together, Alejandro and I prayed an Ave Maria and while we were on it, the bouquet rolled of the alter. That was considered a bad omen, a real bad omen. Pinche. Why by all means, did I not pay more attention, when I placed the bloody bouquet on the alter? Why did this have to happen to me? I should have put it between two candleholders in order to make it impossible for the blasted bouquet to roll of the alter. Afterwards one is always smarter. Can't help it anymore, it happened. Pinche!
When we proceeded towards the exit of the cathedral, the Padrino and the Madrina, put El Lazo over us, kinda binding us together.
All the people were already waiting outside of the church and La Callejoneada, the wedding parade started. The Mariaies were playing and people were dancing. We proceeded further to the end of the forecourt and entered a carriage with six horses pulling it. People were blessing us until we were out of site. Finally, we were alone and for the first time, we kissed and we kissed fervently. If it would not have been an open carriage...
While we were slowly traveling to our farm in the carriage, the invited guests went there by car and the uninvited enjoyed the food for the poor, which got served in the forecourt.
The carriage moved slowly and after more than three hours, we arrived at our farm. It would have really been enough time for some exiting hanky panky, if that blasted carriage would have provided any privacy. Well, they did not think about that in 1940. At our farm, all the invited people, probably over 300, awaited us already and La Callejoneada continued. Inside our house, we all ate and then the party started. The party went all the way into the morning, but after midnight, Alejandro and I were allowed to retreat, so to speak. Now, you would expect that we had the most formidable sex? I'm sorry, we were both finished and fell asleep quickly.
So one month before my 17th birthday, I had gotten married. We moved into an apartment in Mexico City (gratitude of my father in law) and Alejandro did teach me all he knew about flying. I was one of the first women in Mexico, who flew an aircraft. A woman flying an aircraft, was something unimaginable at the time. At least in Mexico. My mother thought I had become an irresponsible and crazy woman. "Una mujer irracional y loca", she called me. The only one thing, which did save me from becoming an unmarriageable woman, was that I was married already.
I did not care so much really. I loved my Alejandro so much and we had fun together.
Pride's Picture:
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