I, the Family

More people choose the quiet and simplicity of the single, childless life

By Wendy Hower, Staff Writer
January 4, 2000

But this computer graphics technician with dark hair down her back and a schoolgirl giggle is just hitting her prime. She is perfectly content, she says, living in her own house and dating a fabulous man for the past four years.

She is not to be pitied -- she's a trendsetter.

Wexler does not spend much time defending her family status to the rest of the world. In fact, her independence -- unmarried and no children -- has become the most common living arrangement in the country, according to a new study.

That's a big shift from just a generation ago. In 1972, the most common type of household -- 45 percent -- consisted of married couples with children, according to "The Emerging 21st-Century American Family," a report from the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago. But by 1998, the number of Ozzie and Harriet-style families had dropped to 26 percent.

At the same time, the number of households with unmarried people and no children -- like Wexler's -- doubled to 32 percent.

That number includes people committed to being single and childless -- a growing number of adults, 10 percent in 1998 -- as well as older single parents with empty nests and cohabitating couples who may yet marry and have kids. (The average age of a first marriage these days is 25 for women and 27 for men -- five years older than it was a generation ago).

"What we have here is a growing diversity in family types," says Tom W. Smith, director of the General Social Survey and researcher at the National Opinion Research Center. "It means that employers, schools, the government -- all the institutions in society -- can't assume there's this kind of one-model family."

In fact, sometime in the next century, most American households will not include children.

In the meantime, Emily Wexler is a minority among her four best female friends, all married with children. But she's remained an integral part of their lives -- as they have of hers -- maintaining ties despite their different lives.

Over the years, Wexler has stood up in her friends' weddings and become a surrogate auntie to their children. And rather than whisper "old maid" behind her back, those friends have admired -- at times envied -- Wexler's independent life, watching her grow and branch out the way they might have if they didn't have young children to raise.

Walk into Wexler's quiet home in Durham and it's immediately clear that children do not live here. House plants, shelves full of books and dozens of tchotchkes make up the decor.

"It's very calm," says her friend Nancy Frame, whose own home is often hectic with the comings and goings of her husband and 7-year-old son. "When you get there, you're very happy because it's so quiet."

Without toddler-size alarm clocks, Wexler keeps a peaceful morning ritual. She wakes up about 7 -- 8 on weekends -- and sips a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk at the dining room table. Her two cats, Sasha and Scooter Pie, rub against her ankles as she reads the comics in the morning newspaper.

"There are definitely lifestyle benefits," she says.

When it comes to her schedule, Wexler feels just as busy as her friends with families. But while they must negotiate with husbands and children for time for themselves, Wexler's hours are hers to spend.

She reads voraciously and belongs to two book clubs -- and, unlike her married-with-children friends, actually finishes the assigned readings each month. Several times a week, she works out at the YMCA downtown.

She teaches basket weaving at the Durham Arts Council and Duke Craft Center. Weekends and some vacations she spends with her boyfriend; the two recently hiked in Yosemite National Park.

As a hobby, she makes and sells baskets at a shop on Ninth Street. She also works at a nearby clothing shop once a month.

"The Mayor of Ninth Street" is what her friend Lisa Napp dubbed Wexler. Have a question about the community? Just dial "1-800-CALL-EMILY," or so the joke goes.

"She's really in touch and in tune with a lot of things that you fall out of touch with when you become a family unit," says Napp, who is married with a 5-year-old daughter. "She knows everybody, and she's a person with a lot of resources."

Although Wexler's living arrangement is increasingly common, society's attitude toward it has been a bit slow to catch up.

Americans, in general, still do not approve of childbirth outside marriage and don't consider childlessness an ideal lifestyle, according to the University of Chicago study. Even Wexler's mother sometimes nudges her to have children, Wexler says.

"My mother thinks I would be a great mother," she says, simply.

Still, the study found that most people see the purpose of marriage as romantic love and companionship, not necessarily having children.

"People are less likely today to say, 'Boy, it's really wrong they haven't had any children,' " researcher Smith says. "There's less of a negative idea that everybody has to reach this ideal."

That's certainly the case among Wexler's friends, who are grateful for Wexler's efforts to keep them -- and their children -- in her life.

To her friends, Wexler serves as a gentle reminder not to lose touch in spite of demanding, kid-centric schedules.

Wexler is the one with the most time to telephone, make plans to buy theater tickets, call the friends together for a women-only brunch at her house. Recently, she mailed friend Nancy Frame a handwritten note with photographs from Wexler's 40th birthday party.

"I can't even get mine developed!" Frame says.

Wexler has the time to be supportive. She drove with one friend and her baby to New York to bake another friend's wedding cake. She sneaked into the hospital, saying she was a sister, to visit one of the friends after a difficult childbirth.

"I really am glad to have her as a friend with no kids because it's just another perspective," Frame says. "It's really good to find people who are different from you, for that balance."

Wexler is an especially precious friend, her married friends say, because she embraces their children, too. She will just as soon pull people together for a kiddy Easter egg decorating party as for a ladies' tea.

"One of the beauties of my lifestyle, of my life, is I get to share a lot of children," Wexler says. "I get to borrow kids."

Which is just fine with friend Annie Dwyer.

"I think of her as a real kid-oriented person," says Dwyer, who is married with two children. "She's a friend of mine, but she's a friend of my kids, too."

"She doesn't make you exclude parts of yourself," she says.

That is something Napp can appreciate, too. When she became pregnant six years ago, she lost a good friend who couldn't have children of her own and stopped speaking to her.

But Napp does not have to worry about protecting Wexler from hearing about her daughter, or ticking off each birthday or passing a baby on the street.

"She took a life situation and didn't get buried in the traditional sadness of it," Napp says. "She's a great role model for my daughter."

Wexler does admit to a few drawbacks to being surrounded by friends who are mothers. She's "incredibly anal" about punctuality, and can't always understand why her friends are late. And she doesn't get to see them as often as she'd like because of their family-packed schedules. And when the whole gang does get together, it can be trying -- for all of them, not just Wexler, she says.

"The only hard things are when we have all the kids together and they're running amok," she says.

It's not that Wexler made a conscious choice never to marry or have children. "I haven't been in a position in my life where it was an option," she says.

Her boyfriend, married once, is not eager to remarry. Wexler is not in a hurry to share the little brick bungalow she worked so hard to buy on her own three years ago. For now, the couple just enjoys spending time together.

But almost every day, Wexler, through her married friends, faces constant reminders that she is not a mother. The issue reached a critical point last summer when Wexler was forced to make a decision about motherhood.

Doctors found benign tumors on Wexler's uterus. They told her she had choice: a radical hysterectomy or an operation that would remove tumors but couldn't guarantee they would not grow back.

Wexler went home and made a chart of the pros and cons of her childless lifestyle. She talked it over with her friends and boyfriend. She consulted with doctors. In the end, she decided on the surgery that would keep her uterus intact, accepting the threat that the tumors might return.

In return, she kept the option to bear children -- maybe.

"I've never been manic about having kids," she says. "If it happens, it will be wonderful. If it doesn't, I'm comfortable with that."