The true title of this diary is, "How to Deal with Your Mother-in-law, or Knowledge Wasted."
My little sister and I grew up in a household run by an autocratic grandmother. She had three sons, all of whom had been wed several times because she kept breaking up their marriages. This was when divorce was much rarer than it is now.
When I was 12 Grandmother announced one morning, "Larry (my uncle) is coming over this afternoon with his new wife. Don't be nice to her!" That was an order. I was awkward in social situations anyhow, so I suppose my manner was cold enough to satisfy Granny. But my sister was a charmer and couldn't help being nice. She was roundly scolded that evening.
Observing my grandmother through critical adolescent eyes, I realized that I never had to worry about my future mother-in-law. Even if the man I wanted to marry had the Wicked Witch of the West for a mother, easy-peasy. I would know exactly how to deal with her.
My grandmother died when I was 13 (a fortunate development for my mental health), my father was in a tuberculosis hospital, and my sister and I were sent to live with distant relatives. Our lives took new directions.
Then when I was 18 and out on my own, I met my Dear One. He was a World War II vet, he was writing a novel, he occasionally sold articles to hunting and fishing magazines, and he was living with, as he put it, "a munificent mother."
I was on alert. "Tell me about your mother," I said.
"Well," he said, "she works in civilian personnel at the army base, she's a good bridge player--plays in tournaments, and she loves baseball."
I thought she sounded like a very jolly person and said so.
"But tell me something about her personality," I asked.
He thought a moment and then said, "When the chips are down, Maw is there."
When I met her I liked her at once. A little more than a year later my Dear One went down to Mexico to scout out a place for us to live. After he had been gone a few weeks I called and asked his mother, "Did you get a letter from Mexico?" (He had written me to arrange our meeting in Guadalajara.)
"Yes," she said, and I could tell she was delighted. We were friends for the duration of my marriage, and when I was widowed we lived together for several years. When I told her I intended to adopt a little girl, she promptly replied, "I'll help you." She was a wonderful grandmother and her example still influences my daughter's life.
So I never had use for my "destructive mother-in-law tactics" except occasionally to give advice to friends who weren't as lucky as I.
I'll close with one example of my advice. I had a night-shift job typing information into a primitive computer system. It was in a big room full of women typists. On break one of my co-workers complained about being harassed by her mother-in-law for working at night.
"She calls me every day," my co-worker said, "and tells me that Jesus told her I am a bad mother for working."
I replied. "if you weren't working she would call and complain that her son was bearing the entire financial burden of the family. Tell her that you talked to Jesus the other night and He said He had never heard of her."
My co-worker was shocked. "I can't tell my mother-in-law that!"
I countered, "Well, then, tell her that Jesus complimented you for being such a supportive wife and good mother."