It
was a nice study, with just enough bookcases to seem full, but just enough
space for a large comfortable leather chair where one might sit next to the
excellent reading lamp and enjoy a favorite book for the umpteenth time.
That
was exactly what the man in chair was doing:
once again reading Three Men In a Boat. This was as it should be...as the man knew...as
you should know: that Jerome K. Jerome’s masterpiece is the single best repository
of knowledge concerning the human condition.
The man was just getting to the part where the three men had discovered
that they had forgotten a can opener when his son came into the room.
“Dad,”
the boy said. “What does it cost to get
married?”
The
man did not look up from his book--he was at one of his favorite passages,
where the men tried to use a knife to open a can of pineapple.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m still
paying.”
“C’mon Dad!
I’m
serious.”
Regretfully,
the man carefully put down his book. He really
didn’t
need a bookmark to find his place because the book was a well-read gift
from his wife. It was the Bristol
edition and was in good shape for something 125 years old.
The
man looked at his son and he could tell by his son’s face that he was indeed, serious. “Ahh, the teenage years,” the man
thought. “One existential crisis after
another. Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? I haven’t
been able to answer a single question since he asked me to explain the
designated hitter rule.”
“Are
you thinking of getting married?” the man asked.
“No,
I was just thinking. What does it cost?”
“Well,” the man answered. “Depending on how you do it, it can be very
expensive or quite cheap. I think your
mother and I spent about $300 on ours.
We got married in my parents’ living
room. And I’ve been to weddings that cost over a
hundred times as much. Either way, you
are just as married. It’s sort of like being on an escalator: no
matter how fast or slow you walk, you end up in the same place.”
“The
whole purpose of the ceremony is a public profession of marriage. The two of you are professing your love and
making a public commitment to the marriage.
You invite friends and family to be witnesses and to ask their
assistance in helping you keep the marriage.
Does any of this make any sense?”
“I
think so,” the boy said.
“But
let me answer the question I think you are really asking,” continued the
man. “A lot of people seem to believe if
you marry the girl you love, you will never have any problems. What nonsense! I remember when your mother and I were
dating, there was this silly movie called ‘Love Story.’ There
was a line in the movie that everyone repeated for years: ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry.’ Which
is horseshit! Love means constantly
saying you’re
sorry, and meaning it.”
“Mom
says you were thrown out of that movie.”
“Well,
yes I was. I couldn’t stop
laughing. But, I thought it was a
comedy. I still do.”
“Mom
says that you take everything and twist it to your advantage.”
“That’s her way of complimenting me. Forget the movie. Marriage doesn’t mean you are not going to have
problems. Every couple does. Some of the problems are huge, and you will
have new ones your whole life. Marriage
is a public commitment that the two of you will work through the problems. That you commit to finding solutions, together,
your whole life.”
“You
want to know what a marriage cost? You
will spend a lifetime making payments together.
Marriage is always making sure that your partner’s needs come first. Marriage is understanding that everything
is your job. Marriage is holding her
hair when she is sick. Marriage is
trying to make sure she eats the last piece of pizza even when she insists that
it is yours.“
“You
don’t make marriage
sound like it is worth the trouble.”
“I’ve always thought it was. It is only through living with your mother
that I have really become happy. Take
this book, Three Men in a Boat—“
“I don’t want to read it. I tried it and it’s boring,” the boy interrupted.
“When
you are older, and not young enough to know everything, you may change your
mind. No--I just wanted to point out
that Jerome wrote this book immediately after he returned from a honeymoon that
he spent with his wife boating on the Thames River. He had spent his whole life on the river, but
only understood it after his marriage.“
The
man thought he hadn't done a very good job answering the boy’s question. “I don’t think he really understands yet, but
he has still has lots of time,” he thought to himself. “We can talk about this again when he is
older. He will understand long before he
is ready to marry. There was still lots
of time.”
“Does
that answer your question?” the man said out loud. He was already opening his book back up
again.
“Oh,
I didn’t really have a question,” the boy said as he turned to leave the
room. “But I think you need to talk to
my sister.”
Perfect ending to that whole scene, Mark! The subtext - the guys tend to think less seriously about this stuff than the women in our lives - rings true.
ReplyDeleteExcept maybe for Bill Murray, who had this to say about choosing a mate:
"If you have someone that you think is the one ... take that person and travel around the world. Buy a plane ticket for the two of you to travel all around the world and go to places that are hard to go to and hard to get out of. And ... when you land at JFK, and you're still in love with that person, get married at the airport."
Marriage is not about making you happy and content I told my boys. It's about making you a better person so it's safe for God to take you to heaven. Any man who has lived the full 50 years with a woman is likely housebroken sufficiently that he probably won't toilet paper Saint Peter's house or stir up a revolution amongst the cherubim. By the way, the last piece of pizza thing is one of the top ten things you learn from marriage.
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