It figures that "The Odd Couple" was the only Neil Simon play I'd ever seen.
That finally got corrected at Hanover Tavern with a matinee of "Brighton Beach Memoirs," which, among other things, clued me in to the fact that Brighton Beach is an oceanside neighborhood in Brooklyn, a fact which was complete news to me.
And while the coming of age story of a Jewish boy navigating parents, older brother, aunt and two cousins all under the same roof was sweet and very much of an era (the '30s), one thing that struck me - besides the terrifically talented young Tyler Stevens as Eugene - was the nature of the relationship of young Eugene's parents, Kate and Jack.
In the story, there was a real bond between the parents, no matter how many difficult situations they were facing. Each was caring and solicitous of their partner, doing their best to look after and keep problems and annoyances from the other.
They were happily a unit.
Despite incredibly difficult financial times and mounting responsibilities, they plodded forward, never for a moment considering a future without the other.
My parents are like that, too, and the long-term success of their union feels like both a gift and a curse to someone who has yet to get an "A" in long-term relationships. But I recently got some unexpected clues from an unlikely source: a cast-off Time magazine.
Mom, being very much a product of the Depression, distributes her old magazines to others once she and my Dad finish reading them. The cleaning lady gets Good Housekeeping and Sports Illustrated goes to the barber shop, but Time and Vanity Fair she gives to me.
I admit, I don't always take all her cast-offs, preferring to flip through and choose based on cover stories. So when she handed me a stack on a recent visit and I spotted the June 13th issue of Time, I paused because of the topic: "How To Stay Married." Subhead: "Staying married is more challenging than ever. But new data says it's worth it."
Surely I could learn something from this article.
It seems Americans have elevated their expectations of marriage and while we actually are capable of achieving new heights, it's only with a lot of work. Without that effort, turns out we'll be more disappointed than previous generations because we'd been promised the moon (and believed it).
And what do we do when we get disappointed? We check out because we can.
Well, not all of us because people like my parents and Eugene's don't consider opting out an option. What's tantalizing to me is that a Cornell study of 700 elderly people revealed that every single one of them said the same two key things.
That a long marriage was the best thing in their lives but also that it was a difficult thing that required effort.
This surely ties in to statistics about older people in happy relationships being healthier and living longer. The article made it clear that sex played a bigger role than money in marital happiness.
All that made good sense to me. But where the article really got my attention was on the subject of soul mates, making the point that, "there are tens of thousands of people out there that anyone could be happily married to and each marriage would be different."
Well, that was certainly encouraging.
But it was the next two sentences, which someone (I'm assuming my Dad) had boldly underlined in red that spoke to real life experience.
And how do you make a soulmate? Practice, practice, practice.
Sitting in my apartment in Richmond, seeing those sentiments underscored felt like a direct message from my parents in the Northern Neck to me, although I seriously doubt that whoever did the underlining even considered that anyone besides their soulmate would see those emphatic red lines.
Or maybe they did, given how my mother has been telling me for years that she can't die because I'm not married. No, really.
Usually when the subject comes up, I remind her of one key factor she's ignoring and, as it happens, it's the same one that closes out the Time article.
Just pick out a good one and get lucky.
My parents were fortunate enough to do just that before they were even 25. Me, not so much.
On the bright side, I am willing to practice.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
This Woman is His Destiny
It's not all boat rides and deck sitting, you know.
I look forward to being invited down to my friends' yellow and blue river cottage and yes, I probably am the first one to raise my hand when the captain of the boat asks who wants to go for a boat ride. I can't wait to use the outdoor shower while I'm there and it's my considered opinion that the screened-in porch on their guest cottage is a practically perfect place to sleep, even in a thunderstorm.
But honestly, the most appealing reason to spend the Sunday and Monday just past (or any days) at their cottage is to watch the relationship of two people who are crazy in love. Two people who had a relationship, broke up (a period they refer to as the "Terrible Awful") and got back together five years ago for an even better Version 2.0.
I tell you, it's positively inspiring.
Every time he goes to open a big beer, he always asks of her, "You want half?" Because he leaves for work before she gets up, he makes her breakfast and leaves it for her. He's especially quick with a compliment, whether about how she's dressed, the meal she's prepared or a body part.
No lie, he goes around telling people, "Yea, I'm married to that!" in a voice bursting with pride.
Besides my Dad, I've never seen a man so forthcoming about how he adores his woman. The best part is, she confided while we were stretched out on lounge chairs on the deck that he's every bit as attentive and sweet when no one else is around but them.
She never takes advantage of her role as the adored. Planning, she always considers his preferences first. Accepting his kind gestures, she always thanks him, often complimenting his behavior to others. She flirts shamelessly with him and he eats it up...still.
So when I spend a couple of days with them like I just did, I get a first hand, up close and personal look at how a happy couple not only enjoys a good relationship, but works at it. Little gestures, sweet words, random kissing.
Their interactions remind me that successful relationships are only as satisfying as what both people put into them. With them, it's like watching silly love songs play out against their spacious deck and the sparkling blue waters of the Carotoman River.
He: What are you doing?
She: Taking barbecue out of the friggin' freezer.
He: Shut up and dance with me.
Is it any wonder they were bound to get together? Yea, I'm envious of that.
I look forward to being invited down to my friends' yellow and blue river cottage and yes, I probably am the first one to raise my hand when the captain of the boat asks who wants to go for a boat ride. I can't wait to use the outdoor shower while I'm there and it's my considered opinion that the screened-in porch on their guest cottage is a practically perfect place to sleep, even in a thunderstorm.
But honestly, the most appealing reason to spend the Sunday and Monday just past (or any days) at their cottage is to watch the relationship of two people who are crazy in love. Two people who had a relationship, broke up (a period they refer to as the "Terrible Awful") and got back together five years ago for an even better Version 2.0.
I tell you, it's positively inspiring.
Every time he goes to open a big beer, he always asks of her, "You want half?" Because he leaves for work before she gets up, he makes her breakfast and leaves it for her. He's especially quick with a compliment, whether about how she's dressed, the meal she's prepared or a body part.
No lie, he goes around telling people, "Yea, I'm married to that!" in a voice bursting with pride.
Besides my Dad, I've never seen a man so forthcoming about how he adores his woman. The best part is, she confided while we were stretched out on lounge chairs on the deck that he's every bit as attentive and sweet when no one else is around but them.
She never takes advantage of her role as the adored. Planning, she always considers his preferences first. Accepting his kind gestures, she always thanks him, often complimenting his behavior to others. She flirts shamelessly with him and he eats it up...still.
So when I spend a couple of days with them like I just did, I get a first hand, up close and personal look at how a happy couple not only enjoys a good relationship, but works at it. Little gestures, sweet words, random kissing.
Their interactions remind me that successful relationships are only as satisfying as what both people put into them. With them, it's like watching silly love songs play out against their spacious deck and the sparkling blue waters of the Carotoman River.
He: What are you doing?
She: Taking barbecue out of the friggin' freezer.
He: Shut up and dance with me.
Is it any wonder they were bound to get together? Yea, I'm envious of that.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Heart Strings
The only luthier I know suggested we have dinner next time I was out seeing my parents,
We'd met when I'd written a piece about him a year or so ago and enjoyed some lively conversation over lunch at the Corner. When he e-mailed with the offer, it was easy to arrange since I already had plans to go to the Northern Neck.
Even better when he suggested Merroir and I agreed quickly and enthusiastically. Driving out to Topping, I passed a car with the bumper sticker, "Peace. Love. Oysters." Right on.
Couldn't have asked for a more ideal day to spend at the river, breezy under a Crayola-blue sky. I scored a table in the shade not long before the luthier arrived to join me, his shirt as pretty a blue as the water and sky.
It was an interesting dynamic because although I knew some very specific things - why he'd first become a musician, how he'd gotten started fixing and eventually crafting guitars- from interviewing him, I didn't really know him.
Fortunately, our server was easygoing and tolerant of delays in making decisions, eventually delivering Raza Vinho Verde and Old Salt oysters while he told me about the growth of fiberglass guitar bodies.
It was some time after we placed our order that he let slip that he'd had an eruption of a year since I'd seen him last, with his marriage of multiple decades unexpectedly ending.
Over grilled Cesar, skate wing piccata with capers and lemon (which he was sure he wouldn't like and loved) and scallops, we talked about what his life had been like for the past year. He admitted that a big part of what he'd done was grieve for the loss of a long-time relationship.
He'd also moved to a one-bedroom cottage on the Carotoman River, a place with a deck where he spots deer, reads and relaxes by the river.
After a concerted effort to pick himself up, dust himself off and start all over again, he was feeling pretty good about life now. He'd even begun doing some dating, an impressive feat given that he hadn't dated since he was 20 (!) but it didn't take him long to notce that a lot about dating has changed.
He regaled me with stories about how bold some women have been, how eage to share their phone number. I patiently explained to him that there's a dearth of middle-aged men worth dating. He's finding out that his stock is worth far more than it was last time he was on the dating scene. Sadly, he's already convinced that half the women only show their crazy side after months of seemingly normal behavior.
His best stories were about all the advice he's been given about life after divorce. Several women have insisted he have as much (protected) sex as he possibly can to make up for only having had two women in his entire life. He's been instructed to do a lot of dating.
But we didn't just talk about his upheaval. He had discovered my blog, saying it made him laugh, and was curious if I had plans to write a book and, if so, fiction or non-fiction? He told me about trading his beloved aqua blue '72 MGB for the sailboat he now owns, which led to an explanation about what he likes about sailing. As a former MGBGT owner, though, I could tell he still missed that car.
Turns out his birthday was the week before mine so I heard about his celebration. I told him I was counting tonight as still part of mine since I'd been on a roll the last four nights and he agreed to be part of it.
Being the gentlemanly type, he couldn't resist clarifying that he hadn't asked me to dinner for ulterior motives, but more because he was making an effort to reconnect and establish some friendships now that he's in a new place in his life.
For the second time in a week, I talked to a someone about a decided left turn in direction that their lives were taking and the endless possibilities that offered. How, now that he's acknowledged to himself that he wasn't very happy with how his life was before, he can craft whatever sort of path he chooses.
He's tentatively started down that path by dating. So far, he's been most impressed with a woman 12 years younger who is completely different than him. Says he relishes being with someone who surprises him. I like the sound of that.
My best surprise came as I passed the outdoor kitchen and Chef Pete called out, "You are killin' that yellow summer dress, hon!" Happily married men give the best compliments.
I have to say that driving out there, I had no idea nor expectations about the evening beyond a second conversation with a man I'd met once. Being asked about some of my own choices and aspirations came as a bit of a surprise, albeit in a good way. When he nonchalantly asked if I'd ever get married again, it led to a whole, big discussion about the evolution of relationships. Not every guy's conversational cup of tea.
One thing I'd noticed immediately was that he'd lost weight and he admitted as much, emphasizing what a healthy eater he was now. Not so healthy that he didn't happily share a s'mores doughnut oozing marshmallow and chocolate with me, but apparently I'm the bad influence.
When it comes to desserts maybe, but not when it comes to life. Then I'm just a big cheerleader for anyone brave enough to create the life they want.
Go for it. If not now, when?
We'd met when I'd written a piece about him a year or so ago and enjoyed some lively conversation over lunch at the Corner. When he e-mailed with the offer, it was easy to arrange since I already had plans to go to the Northern Neck.
Even better when he suggested Merroir and I agreed quickly and enthusiastically. Driving out to Topping, I passed a car with the bumper sticker, "Peace. Love. Oysters." Right on.
Couldn't have asked for a more ideal day to spend at the river, breezy under a Crayola-blue sky. I scored a table in the shade not long before the luthier arrived to join me, his shirt as pretty a blue as the water and sky.
It was an interesting dynamic because although I knew some very specific things - why he'd first become a musician, how he'd gotten started fixing and eventually crafting guitars- from interviewing him, I didn't really know him.
Fortunately, our server was easygoing and tolerant of delays in making decisions, eventually delivering Raza Vinho Verde and Old Salt oysters while he told me about the growth of fiberglass guitar bodies.
It was some time after we placed our order that he let slip that he'd had an eruption of a year since I'd seen him last, with his marriage of multiple decades unexpectedly ending.
Over grilled Cesar, skate wing piccata with capers and lemon (which he was sure he wouldn't like and loved) and scallops, we talked about what his life had been like for the past year. He admitted that a big part of what he'd done was grieve for the loss of a long-time relationship.
He'd also moved to a one-bedroom cottage on the Carotoman River, a place with a deck where he spots deer, reads and relaxes by the river.
After a concerted effort to pick himself up, dust himself off and start all over again, he was feeling pretty good about life now. He'd even begun doing some dating, an impressive feat given that he hadn't dated since he was 20 (!) but it didn't take him long to notce that a lot about dating has changed.
He regaled me with stories about how bold some women have been, how eage to share their phone number. I patiently explained to him that there's a dearth of middle-aged men worth dating. He's finding out that his stock is worth far more than it was last time he was on the dating scene. Sadly, he's already convinced that half the women only show their crazy side after months of seemingly normal behavior.
His best stories were about all the advice he's been given about life after divorce. Several women have insisted he have as much (protected) sex as he possibly can to make up for only having had two women in his entire life. He's been instructed to do a lot of dating.
But we didn't just talk about his upheaval. He had discovered my blog, saying it made him laugh, and was curious if I had plans to write a book and, if so, fiction or non-fiction? He told me about trading his beloved aqua blue '72 MGB for the sailboat he now owns, which led to an explanation about what he likes about sailing. As a former MGBGT owner, though, I could tell he still missed that car.
Turns out his birthday was the week before mine so I heard about his celebration. I told him I was counting tonight as still part of mine since I'd been on a roll the last four nights and he agreed to be part of it.
Being the gentlemanly type, he couldn't resist clarifying that he hadn't asked me to dinner for ulterior motives, but more because he was making an effort to reconnect and establish some friendships now that he's in a new place in his life.
For the second time in a week, I talked to a someone about a decided left turn in direction that their lives were taking and the endless possibilities that offered. How, now that he's acknowledged to himself that he wasn't very happy with how his life was before, he can craft whatever sort of path he chooses.
He's tentatively started down that path by dating. So far, he's been most impressed with a woman 12 years younger who is completely different than him. Says he relishes being with someone who surprises him. I like the sound of that.
My best surprise came as I passed the outdoor kitchen and Chef Pete called out, "You are killin' that yellow summer dress, hon!" Happily married men give the best compliments.
I have to say that driving out there, I had no idea nor expectations about the evening beyond a second conversation with a man I'd met once. Being asked about some of my own choices and aspirations came as a bit of a surprise, albeit in a good way. When he nonchalantly asked if I'd ever get married again, it led to a whole, big discussion about the evolution of relationships. Not every guy's conversational cup of tea.
One thing I'd noticed immediately was that he'd lost weight and he admitted as much, emphasizing what a healthy eater he was now. Not so healthy that he didn't happily share a s'mores doughnut oozing marshmallow and chocolate with me, but apparently I'm the bad influence.
When it comes to desserts maybe, but not when it comes to life. Then I'm just a big cheerleader for anyone brave enough to create the life they want.
Go for it. If not now, when?
Sunday, January 24, 2010
He's Got a Face with a View
I am a love child...literally.
When I was younger, I'd ask my mom how I could have been born only seven months after they got married and still have weighed 8 1/2 pounds; she always changed the topic of conversation.
So, back in 2002, when the guy I was dating inquired about the parental dynamic that produced me, I went directly to my Dad for an answer.
And what an answer it was!
"Tell him the dynamic produced you on the first try...that alone is noteworthy! Usually it takes several tries to get something perfect. Truly a work of art born of love!!!" (And yes, I kept that e-mail).
How could I not appreciate so revealing and flattering a statement from Dad, especially when he didn't have to share it (see: Mom's responses)?
Learning that I was the reason my parents got married was never a burden, though, because they went on to produce five other children (all girls) and are still happily married today.
And today was my Dad's birthday, which means the annual birthday dinner extravaganza in Fredericksburg, so up Route 301 I went to celebrate.
Our destination was La Petite Auberge and our reservation was for 7:00.
Arriving, the only unoccupied table was the one laid for us in the center of the room; we'd begun at the Kenmore Inn for cocktail hour and were ready to dive right in amongst the bustling crowd and wait staff.
While assorted bottles of red, white and rose were being ordered and brought to the table, I was pleased to spot my wine of choice for the evening, the Zonnebloem Pinotage, and knew I was set.
The challenge was the menu, which is extensive and rich. I started with the split pea soup with ham and sausage (and bad green soup jokes) when the server warned us of the kitchen being slammed.
The soup, crusty rolls and Pinotage provided an ideal way to stave off hunger for a while.
My dinner choice was the almond-crusted flounder with capers, but since there were no duplications in orders at our table, I also got offered bites of veal, rock fish, flank steak, pork chop, short ribs, mahi mahi, prime rib, crab-stuffed shrimp and even mussels in a Newburg-like broth.
The flounder did necessitate switching temporarily to the Loire Valley from Stellenbosch for a Sauvignon Blanc, but I made the sacrifice before returning to my first love for dessert.
My ever-efficient sister had pre-ordered Baked Alaska for dessert, so it arrived table side to be doused in Drambuie and set aflame, to the surprise and unexpected warmth of nearby tables.
One couple lamented not having the foresight to have ordered their own the required 24 hours in advance.
If this sounds like a meal you'd see in a movie from the 70s, well, it kind of was, but in a charming, retro sort of way.
My folks, after all, are retro, having been very happily married for decades now.
My dad still thinks he is the luckiest guy in the world and that my Mom is the most interesting and attractive woman he's ever met.
He may very well be the last of his kind.
And a man like that is certainly worth celebrating.
When I was younger, I'd ask my mom how I could have been born only seven months after they got married and still have weighed 8 1/2 pounds; she always changed the topic of conversation.
So, back in 2002, when the guy I was dating inquired about the parental dynamic that produced me, I went directly to my Dad for an answer.
And what an answer it was!
"Tell him the dynamic produced you on the first try...that alone is noteworthy! Usually it takes several tries to get something perfect. Truly a work of art born of love!!!" (And yes, I kept that e-mail).
How could I not appreciate so revealing and flattering a statement from Dad, especially when he didn't have to share it (see: Mom's responses)?
Learning that I was the reason my parents got married was never a burden, though, because they went on to produce five other children (all girls) and are still happily married today.
And today was my Dad's birthday, which means the annual birthday dinner extravaganza in Fredericksburg, so up Route 301 I went to celebrate.
Our destination was La Petite Auberge and our reservation was for 7:00.
Arriving, the only unoccupied table was the one laid for us in the center of the room; we'd begun at the Kenmore Inn for cocktail hour and were ready to dive right in amongst the bustling crowd and wait staff.
While assorted bottles of red, white and rose were being ordered and brought to the table, I was pleased to spot my wine of choice for the evening, the Zonnebloem Pinotage, and knew I was set.
The challenge was the menu, which is extensive and rich. I started with the split pea soup with ham and sausage (and bad green soup jokes) when the server warned us of the kitchen being slammed.
The soup, crusty rolls and Pinotage provided an ideal way to stave off hunger for a while.
My dinner choice was the almond-crusted flounder with capers, but since there were no duplications in orders at our table, I also got offered bites of veal, rock fish, flank steak, pork chop, short ribs, mahi mahi, prime rib, crab-stuffed shrimp and even mussels in a Newburg-like broth.
The flounder did necessitate switching temporarily to the Loire Valley from Stellenbosch for a Sauvignon Blanc, but I made the sacrifice before returning to my first love for dessert.
My ever-efficient sister had pre-ordered Baked Alaska for dessert, so it arrived table side to be doused in Drambuie and set aflame, to the surprise and unexpected warmth of nearby tables.
One couple lamented not having the foresight to have ordered their own the required 24 hours in advance.
If this sounds like a meal you'd see in a movie from the 70s, well, it kind of was, but in a charming, retro sort of way.
My folks, after all, are retro, having been very happily married for decades now.
My dad still thinks he is the luckiest guy in the world and that my Mom is the most interesting and attractive woman he's ever met.
He may very well be the last of his kind.
And a man like that is certainly worth celebrating.
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