It’s the eve of my 21st anniversary and I found myself reflecting so often today. There are so many reasons for a marriage not to last, so many reasons for everything we do in life to fall by the wayside or to fall short of our expectations. It makes me want to examine (but not too closely) why something, anything, works…when the odds are seriously against it.
Scot and I had so little in common if you looked at the surface of our lives and our personalities when we met in the ‘80’s. Nevertheless, the things that we both enjoyed – simple yet exquisite New York City Vegetarian fare, Elvis Costello (the lyrics – Scot / the bass guitar – me), smoking pot, the lower East-side pop-punk culture and oddly enough, good old-fashioned values – Midwest by definition - kept us hanging out together just long enough to fall in love and give it a go as Mr. & Mrs…
We would not have met if it hadn’t been for Stella, who was a wise and sexy Guatemalan woman in her 40’s who had taken Scot under her wing…wanted him to settle down, meet his girl-next-door…be happy. They ate a quick lunch together every day at “The Sunlight Café” at 31st and Park. The Cafe owner’s son would give me a huge bowl of half-sour pickles and a coffee every day, whether I had money or not. I was always there when Scot and Stella had lunch. One day when they left, Stella dropped a napkin in my lap with a note on it. I could not easily make out the writing but could read these words: “the guy I am with would like to meet you…”. This was not literally Scot’s intention, nor his words to her, but it was how she translated what he needed at that time in his life.
I assumed the worst (BAD GUYS / Perverts!!) and tried to avoid eye contact with them for the next week or so until I observed that they had the most pleasant expressions, always completely engaged, talking and laughing, very real. Eventually Scot and I became friends and later moved to Wisconsin to get married.
I often think about the miracle of getting along with anyone. What are the odds? Scot may be the only person I know who has ZERO baggage and NO moods but that does not eliminate all problems. Communicating to ANYONE, I believe, is complex and he and I, like so many couples, are seriously OPPOSITES; while I am chatty and reiterative, overly expressive and easily offended, hurt, annoyed, as well as overjoyed…Scot is a simpler, more to-the-point communicator, not offended or hurt by almost anything, but likely to answer many, if not all, questions with the singular word: “fine”…as in “do you like the dinner I made, shirt I bought, etc….??” F-I-N-E...to which I say, “that’s not an answer…” but it’s HIS answer…this has taken me almost this long to really get… it’s authentically his “O.K.-ness” with the world as it is…it doesn’t make him leap out of his seat in a good way or in a bad way…it keeps him steady…right where he needs to be, while I scurry all over the map, half-frenzied by my reactions to all things life-like: TOO COLD, TOO HOT, TOO SALTY, SO SAD, SO DIRTY, SUCH AN ASS-HOLE, NOT NICE, DISGUSTING, ADORABLE, FABULOUS!!!, FALL-DOWN FUNNY, CRIPPLING, STARVING, FULL, EXHAUSTED, WIDE-AWAKE-HYPER, FURIOUS, AT PEACE.
Fine.
That’s us.
If we end up divorced it will be over outer-wear; Scot hates excess and carrying anything bigger than his I-Phone, while I hate no back-up plan. So on mornings when it’s a chilly 45 degrees, I implore the kids to bundle up in a subtle way – a sweater, a jean jacket, something they can take off and carry home easily…but Scot, with utter dismay at my suggestion, claims that “it’s going up to SEVENTY-ONE this afternoon!” (this is not screaming, just emphasis) and then it starts…I can’t plan for this morning in a way that acknowledges this afternoon, not when it comes to outer-wear. I can only imagine the damage done to the children from our mixed messages: Take a sweater - you don’t need a sweater - it’s cold – it’ll warm up – not soon enough – what about the walk there? – what about the walk home? – whatever…
The thing I can honestly say though as I look back at 21 years of so many details, so many outer-wear disagreements, so many hair-colors, and most importantly, those five kids, is that if I was ever looking for anything in a husband it was for him to be a good father to my kids and when I stumbled upon some of my favorite pictures from so many years ago of Scot with our severely autistic son, Louki – now 17 – I look at those 2 faces together, just as they are today and am overwhelmed by the love, head to head, cheek to cheek, hearts as one, eyes averting, then locking, then averting, then locking, so few words spoken, so many hugs, so much deep, deep understanding but with no explanation, the very definition of parenting at its best, raw, unconditional love and it gives me great peace.
Still a little cold, pissed, hot, thirsty, busy, tired, sore, stressed…but also peaceful and grateful for those 21 "FINE" years.
Ruby
2 comments:
All I can say is that Ruby is a fine wife and a fine mother. And that is saying a lot!
"Ruby:"
What a lovely testimonial to best instincts we all possess — but often ignore as we pursue a more selfish path. It is very real and touching — dare I say inspirational — that two beings, as different as the East Village and upper West side could co-exist in so FINE a manner.
How very lovely indeed.
Recently I was reviewing some old photos of my now-16 year old when he was 2 or 3. One showed us both on our backs - his head upside down by mine. I was imitating my boy ...and both of us were sucking our thumbs. The photo brought back all of the memories of being a single Dad...without that faithful friend and partner you wrote so beautifully about.
So, you have honored and blessed one another — and your children. That is good — and rare these days.
Thanks for sharing your anniversary with all of us. Here's to 21 more.
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