What is Marriage Like?

Posted on December 3, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

A friend’s son called me recently and asked me for some advice, he’s getting married in two weeks, he’s only 19. I know, such a tender age to go off into the field of conflict. But in this case, ignorance really is bliss.

I laugh at his naivety because no book, magazine, counseling session or marriage encounter weekend will ever prepare him for the real thing. It’s like when a woman asks another woman, what’s child birth like? Oh, (pause) it’s like passing a bowling ball! Okay, sorry I asked.

Son, you’re entering this event with all the confidence of a first-time bull fighter without his red cape. While your knees knock together, excitedly hope for the best.

For me, I have laid down my marital weaponry. My marriage is a masterpiece that is not complete. Well masterpiece is a bit vain, paint by number actually is more like it. It seems I’m trying to put my life together with muted colors in all the oddest places. But I’m confident one day I will see the whole picture without embarrassing myself too much in the process.

This young man’s marriage question reminded me of a story I heard. One day a young woman came home and before her mother could say hello, the daughter fell sobbing into her mother’s arms. When the mother got her daughter to calm down she asked, “What’s wrong dear, why the tears?” The daughter overcome with emotion said, “Church is important to me, I just found out my fiancé is an atheist. He doesn’t believe in heaven or hell. Now I’m not sure whether I should marry him.” Soothing her daughter’s fears she said, “Go ahead, marry him. In six months we’ll show him they’re real. And between the two of us, we’ll show him the difference between the two.”

As I read the “Good Book” to find marriage advice, I’m always drawn to an individual who is recognized as the smartest man in the world, King Solomon. He had a lot of counsel on the subject of marriage, and why not? He had more than 1200 wives. So what’s the biggest drawback in having 1200 wives? 1200 mother-in-laws under the same roof!

While I am impressed with Solomon’s credentials, I think I’ll skip giving his advice to my young friend getting married. I’ll just give him my favorite coffee mug instead. It reads, “Happiness is finding your mother-in-laws picture on a milk carton!” Some things are best figuring out on your own.

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A Worldly Teacher

Posted on November 30, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Have you ever felt like the world was a classroom and you were the only teacher? It’s almost like the sign on the door of my life says push and everyone else on the other side thinks the sign says the exact same thing. It never ceases to amaze me what I must do to inspire individuals to embrace the world of peace and serenity.

I was visiting my mother recently, she loves bargains. Bargains are found in thrift shops right? So here we were in this quaint New England thrift shop with the faint smell of moth balls permeating the air. This is the official scent of thrift stores. The cashier was old. She looked like an old Betty Davis figure from Madame Trousseau’s Wax Museum. Yet despite her advanced age and the large senior citizen clientele in the store, she was playing rap music on the overhead speakers. As for me, the only time I will approve rap music being played around me will be at my funeral. The reason? I won’t care, I’ll be dead! Rap music is the equivalent of seeing a 500 pound woman in a spandex miniskirt and a t-shirt that says sexy. I’m not fooled. In fact, I find it the generic equivalent of ipecac. (medicine that makes you lose your lunch on purpose).

So here I am shopping with all the other senior citizens of the town and a rap song whose words are more than spicy comes blaring moderately through the store speakers. Do you know being supremely annoyed makes a person bold? I walked up to the elderly cashier and said, “I think your customers would prefer a nicer song to listen too.” Nonplussed she replied, “I don’t listen to it anyway!” To which I added, “Yes, but I find the lyrics shopping with my Mother a little unsettling” In monotone she asked, “Why what is the song saying?” I said, “It’s saying, it’s really hot in here, so let’s take off all our clothes!”

I learned something valuable, wax figures turn red and switch radio stations quickly when inspired.

Getting older makes me think differently. I no longer choose restaurants for the good food, I choose it for the noise level. How can a husband take out his wife for a romantic dinner when the noise level is equivalent to eating on the tarmac at the International Airport?

My life’s conundrum is, how does a person who craves a quiet and peaceful oasis live in a Chucky Cheese world? I think it starts with contentment. Even our metaphors for the best of something is noisy. When purchasing an opulent item we always say, “it must come with all the bells and whistles.” I stand firm in my answer for serenity. Quiet restaurants, quieter homes, and purchasing all hearing aid batteries from the discount store Big Lots. I’m confident; I know the batteries won’t last long. I’m okay with that too; because on the days I do run out, I’ll finally have at least one day of peace and quiet.

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Empty Nest Syndrome

Posted on November 28, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

When I have a free moment, I love to kick back and read a magazine. Recently however, I have seen numerous articles featuring empty nest syndrome. Despite the fact that it sounds like a male pattern baldness disease, these magazines offer step by step suggestions on how to deal with this depressive cycle of having the kids leave home.

My children are at an age where they still have a few years before they will ride off to college in a two-toned Rambler with matching duct tape seats. But I’m not worrying about the empty nest syndrome. You see, this affliction is for people who don’t remember the childhood stages. In our home we have three “blessed children” who all believe that my universe revolves around them. Each possess the uncanny ability to make me revert into my father. I find myself saying things and mimicking him the way he used to yell at me. This bizarre channeling episode occurs mostly in the family vehicle while on extended trips.

With three children ranging in age from post wean to teen, our home can be best described as loud and chaotic. The youngest child has his own philosophy. With all things, the family shares. With his own things, he doesn’t have to share. The oldest child wants his privacy. In a home with one bathroom, you can envision the logistical problems. The middle child is the family referee. She makes sure we buy three boxes of the same cereal so that all can have the same prize. Heaven forbid that there are four pieces to the set. To make it equitable, the equation becomes, ( 4 different prizes x 4 cereal boxes x total children in the house = 16 boxes of cereal to ensure fairness.) If you don’t believe me, you should see my pantry. Other than my one can of olives and a bottle of Tabasco sauce, the place looks like a General Mills warehouse. If however a full compliment of cereal choices would ensure peace and tranquility, I’d buy stock in every major cereal company in America.

Each of our “cherubs” find ways to irritate each other while pushing the limits of their parent’s patience. The latest game is to call each other names they have heard on the evening news. We then have to break up the verbal battles by saying, “No honey, you’re not Nancy Pelosi.” “No son, you’re not James Carville.” Thank goodness we haven’t heard any politician’s mistress name. I have even had to reassure my youngest child that the dinosaur, Barney is not his role model as his older brother claimed.

Yesterday, half asleep, I hopped into the shower. I stepped on three matchbox cars, a hairbrush, a boat, and a Barbie head. The bathtub debris looked like Mardi Gras had come to Gilligan’s Island. It has been this way for ten years.

I have found the secret to getting over the “Empty Nest Syndrome”, keep a diary. That way when your wife pines for those years when the kids were small and you think they were the best years of your life, you can open it to page 153 and you can prove they weren’t.

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Home for Three Hours

Posted on November 25, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Have you ever had a family that you adopted and claimed to be yours? They’re no relation to you, but something inside them gives you the feeling of kindred spirits. You know, they’re so special like the Walton Family from television, you wish you could be a part of them? I was with such a family this Thanksgiving holiday.

We were reunited in Branson, Mo. It was only fitting that our reunion would happen there. Billboards of family singers and entertainers lined the streets and hills of this entertainment Mecca. All the advertising seemed to point to the importance of family.

Some members of this family I had not seen in 25 years, yet it seemed as though I couldn’t stop smiling the moment I arrived. Like a favorite comedienne whose stories mesmerize and draw you in, the time flew by and left me breathlessly wanting more.

We gathered around the living room of their little rented lodge that sat overlooking Table Rock Lake, and gave a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. One of the family members was celebrating their 50th birthday. As the strains of the familiar song wafted across the room like the scent of a fresh baked apple pie, the family offered shades of the Osmonds. Their close harmonies and beautiful voices was worthy of any show Branson could offer.

The clan had grown with children and grandchildren, new faces abounded. Yet I knew I was privileged to be a part of something special. I sat on the fireplace hearth, looked around the room, and sighed; I was content.

When I was a child, I was part of a large Italian family. On Christmas eve, my parents, grandmother and grandfather Tony, and his brothers and sisters would circle the living room as my siblings and I would open our gifts. I can close my eyes and still look around the room and imagine that night from 1966. My Uncles Clarence, Irving, Arturo, Guiseppe, and Aunts Lillian, Viola, and Demetria are all laughing and talking.

Tonight as I spent time with our dear friends and family, I recreated the magic of that night forty six years ago. I was a kid among a family that made me feel special.

I envision heaven being a lot like that: good food, good friends, great conversation. But unlike heaven, I hope three hours is not all that I am allotted. It was probably just the right amount of time however. For this one night, I was transported to my own little Lake Wobegone from Prairie Home Companion. The Men were strong, the women beautiful, and all the children were indeed, well above average.

Tonight compared to 30 years ago, when this family first entered my life; my hair is now gray, I look older than my age, but I don’t care. I was home. If only for three hours.

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