Destiny had two names on her dance card…

A main character in my memoir, The Uris Trinity, Margery Edwards came into my life during the mid-sixties, a Philadelphia transplant who found her way to the slippery slopes of Aspen. A beautiful sculpture handed down by the gods, it didn’t take long before my father’s will to stay with my mother, Betty, became lost in his newfound passion for Margery.

The first time I saw her, I became enraged with jealousy, thinking to myself, “I want to be a writer lust like my father, so I could be worthy of such a precious gem as she.” One might have thought, that I just wanted the girl. Sure, but I wanted what Dad had, what she symbolized—the endgame of being a successful writer.

Since childhood I knew what I wanted to do…

In our family, there was only room for one writer. Not out of circumstance, but out of direct mandate—the family law. Our family law states, “The Uris Family only has room for one self-absorbed narcissistic literary genius.” That was the truth.

When Dad told us children, “Writing is a tough career move. What he really meant to say was, “Don’t become a writer, please, I would rather avoid any competition and if you are overly successful I might lose my rung on the ladder. Now, if you are a failure, then I have to live with that as well… do yourself a favor and never even think about becoming a writer—it is a hard way to make a living.” And then he would play tennis or go skiing.

Even kings have to pay the ferryman

Okay Dad, let’s do the math. You took a generational leap in marrying Margery, that means you can never be as young as her and she will eventually tire of your growing-old pains. It’s a race against the clock, she is just getting warmed up and you are still recovering from your last screwed up relationship. Yet, Dad, you thought it would be living a dream to be with Margery, or did it turn out to be one of those tedious dreams where you are at some horrible job, making disastrous mistakes, and getting chewed out for being a sloppy failure.

Margery needed love, not fame or fortune…

Her rare beauty made her the new attraction in Aspen nightlife. She modelled winter wear and crafted fine silver jewelry, and soon became the most sought after bachelorette in town. Competition at the ski-town bar scene—all the rich handsome European imports to the ski slopes made it difficult for local residents to fill their dance cards. Dad had to rethink his strategy. Knowing how to play the game, my father tried everything to win her favor. Eventually, he created an imaginary persona about himself, in order to trick her into falling in love with him.

Such a sweetheart…

What makes a boy/man do really stupid things—girls/women. Fast forward, I recall the good and the bad times, the mistakes and attributes of my faltering youth in my memoir, The Uris Trinity. This was my budding relationship with Margery—I just had to keep my father happy in order to get the girl. As you can clearly see, nothing in my life made sense. I had the honor—to serve my father by taking care of his trophy wife—a recipe for disaster.

To know Margery, you have to read the book…

There are so many wonderful things about Margery. More than I could write in a hundred volumes, and it would still not do her beauty justice. Not just external beauty, which is a bonus, but her natural internal beauty. The rare kind of woman that is painted by kings and displayed for all time in our national galleries. She possessed a form of beauty that is seldom written about, because words will always fall short of describing the perfection of her lovely soul.