There have been two defining days in my life: the day I married Teddy Minsky, and the day Teddy died. On both days a dark, ominous cloud loomed overhead—that cloud came in the form of his mother, Ida.
Ida Minsky was a bulldozer, in attitude and appearance. A short stout woman with square shoulders like a linebacker, but she was much nastier. On our wedding day, the storm cloud bullied the caterers into changing the menu, the band into playing the songs she liked, and Teddy into realizing that no matter who he married, she was still in charge.
She was so skillful in fact that she relegated her husband, Pauley, to near invisibility in her presence, and he finally just vanished altogether, choosing death over life with Ida.
But Pauley’s liberation meant my captivity because after he died, Teddy brought Ida Minsky to live with us.