Forever Young

Posted by mwallach on August 19, 2011 in Crazy Follows Me Everywhere |

Dear That’s Life,
The summer may be winding down, camp ending and back-to-school sales underway, but wedding season is still in full force. There are few things that make people feel as good about the future as young love. Smiles abound and warmth fills the room as you remember the moment you, too, walked down the aisle, your life changing forever. Who would have ever known at that blessed moment that, at some point, you’d cry over whose turn it was to wash the dishes.

I do not care what people say: you do not know a person until you live with them. You may date for a month, four months or for a year – it does not matter. Until you learn that he’ll do the laundry, but won’t fold it, there will be some awkward silences and long, long stares. Before he learns no substitutions may be made on an otherwise very specific shopping list without authorization, there will be some frustrating conversations. And until you figure out that your differing political views and heated conversations in your own kitchen are not personal, but rather makes for an even more exciting marriage, those moments may actually make you nervous. Regardless, not until you share space with a person do you get to know their habits, foibles, quirks and what makes them tick. Or that they won’t eat anything made with mayonnaise because that’s an item with a greater life expectancy than most humans. It simply does not come up when you’re dating.

Our first weekend alone as husband and wife, I went all out preparing typical and traditional fare. The smells of potato kugel, chicken soup, matzo balls, gefilte fish and other classics filled our small apartment. I could not have been more excited to play my part as happy homemaker, desperate to impress my new husband with everything I had made, able to hold my own in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I had not done my research. As much as I knew about my better half, I did not know he was not your stereotypical Jew. Atop my beautifully set table sat the kugel, chicken soup, matza balls, gefilte fish and almost anything else I had dutifully prepared completely untouched – because my husband did not like any of them.

“I don’t like chicken soup,” he said, and continued to say that about mostly every other food I had placed before him. It was not his fault that he did not like those dishes, the equivalent of someone trying to serve me a steak. Completely disappointed, however, there was only one thing left for me to do – burst into tears. Years later, I look back and laugh, remembering how upset I was and how badly he felt. Reflecting on that moment as I saw the groom watching his bride walk down the aisle, both of them smiling broadly, I wished them the best but knew that despite having dated for years, she, too, would undoubtedly make something he did not like and end up in tears. It was inevitable.

Not a prize myself, I’ve also had my own moments. While my husband appreciates the sentimental value of many things, I have minimal attachment to almost anything. I throw everything out, unable to tolerate clutter. Complicated situations have arisen when I have been caught red handed, throwing away birthday cards or mother’s day projects. I’ve also been guilty of giving away some his suits, sweaters or other items that have not been worn in a while without previous consultation. For some reason, I have decided to be the arbiter of what he may be attached to, and what must go. Most of the time, it does not come back to haunt me.

When we were living in our first apartment, however, I threw out a bunch of his papers which I had decided he had not used in a while. Without asking, I tossed them down the garbage shoot, in an effort to tidy our room. How was I supposed to know he had placed our passports and other valuable documents in that same file? Admittedly, it was not one of my better moves. Luckily, our rescue efforts were a success, the documents retrieved. For most, the moral of this story would have been not to throw out someone else’s belongings without permission. I, on the other hand, learned something else: before tossing out someone’s stuff, check the pockets carefully and thoroughly rifle through all papers.

Time goes on, but there is still plenty to learn. It was when we were expecting our first child that I scheduled a hearing test for my husband. It made no sense to me that I talked and talked, but yet there was no response. Figuring there was some kind of hearing deficiency, we headed off to the audiology appointment.

After sitting in the sound proof booth, the test was over and the audiologist emerged from his desk. “Your husband has selective hearing,” he explained. “He hears only what he wants to.” Smiling knowingly, as if having had this conversation with many other couples, he looked at us and said, “So, how long have you been married?”

Here’s to the many lessons still left to learn: Happy Anniversary.
MLW

As Seen in the South Shore Standard Aug ’11

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