I think it was our grandson, who is now a man.
I've been married a long time.
I don’t know why but for some reason this makes people think I know certain things.
Let me assure you, they are mistaken.
I know nothing.
Still, just the other day a young woman asked me about the secret of a long marriage.
I thought hard and replied, “Just don’t get a divorce.”
One of the Prophets said something like that I think. Maybe President Kimball.
Anyway, even if he didn't, it’s true.
Tomorrow is often a different day.
I thought about this some more and then remembered that I did know one important thing.
“Oh wait!" I said to my young friend, "I almost forgot. You’ll be needing a strong defense if you marry a man.”
She said, “A strong defense? Why?”
“For
use when a man’s just got to do what a man’s got to do.” I replied.
To give just one example, the man that I’m currently married to tries to injure himself just so that I’ll get upset and worry about him.
I’m not joking. I think it’s one of those guy things.
I've noticed that women seldom do this because it’s dumb and just doesn't make sense.
I especially remember one little scenario that happened regularly in the winter when we were living in the mountains.
Husband’s age at the time was 50ish. He’d been diabetic for years, with high blood pressure and cholesterol to boot.
Heavy snowfall was a regular occurrence in our area from October through March.
Now I admit that big piles of snow created issues around our place. Some kind of action was indeed required. All of us had to get out of the house and to the road leading to the highway so we could get to work and school.
Something did have to be done with all that snow.
So, husband thought about it hard.
He considered all factors carefully. Safety first, of course. Then he conducted time, expense, and feasibilty studies.
Being a man he finally decided the most sensible solution was to buy a used 500 lb snow-blower, which cost several hundreds of dollars, which he'd heard was for sale from the school district in town. The only flaw was that it kept coming apart when in heavy use.
This way he could go out in frigid weather and wrestle with it and tons of cold, wet, snow every time we had a storm.
This machine was a behemoth. I tried to move it once and it nearly gave me a hernia. It took four men to load it in the truck when he bought it.
I mentioned to Larry that I thought it was way too much exertion for a man his age and with his medical history to mess around with that heavy machine in freezing weather. Especially since we lived 40 miles from the nearest hospital. With icy roads it might take a long time to get there.
“We have young men with snow blades on their trucks who’ll come out and move our snow for just 20 dollars,” I explained in my most reasonable tone. “It’s not worth the risk dear.”
Well, this comment triggered the old, passionate, “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do!” lecture.
This same dusty speech was repeated every time he wanted to do something dangerous, expensive, and unnecessary.
Right away I knew that talking sense was useless.
So I did what a woman has to do when a man has to do those things that a man does.
Defense.
Here's just an example.
One early morning right after the next 2 foot snowfall, husband stood in front of the living room window looking out with a glint in his eye. He was holding a cup of hot chocolate.
I was making the bed in the other room but I could see that he was all ready for a big fight with tons of cold, wet precipitation. He was wearing full combat gear. Snow-boots to the knees, wool hat pulled down, ears muffed, gloved to the elbows. He stood looking out the window sipping happily.
After a bit he called out loudly.
“Okay, I’m going out there now. Don’t you worry, I’m not going to give myself a heart attack. Don’t try to stop me. A man has responsibilities. A man’s got to do….. bla, bla, bla.”
Then there was a rather lengthy pause after which I heard growling.
That was followed by a string of not so nice words.
“What the bleep! Bleepity bleep! What’s that kid doing? Will you look at that Clint! Bleep him! He’s out there moving my snow!
I came to stand quietly at his side.
“Well, isn’t that the nicest thing,” I chirped. “Young Clint’s come out to be a good neighbor with his truck and snowblade. You better go out to thank him. Now you be especially friendly. We want him to feel that his kindness is appreciated.”
Husband heads out with a forced smile and a reluctant wave at Clint.
I could hear snippets of “Don’t trouble yourself next storm young man. I've got a machine right here that’ll take care of a 5 foot snowfall. Want to take a look?”
Clint got out of his truck.
They both stood hovering over that thing. They crowed about how it was the deluxe, super duper model.
Big enough to throw a mountain of snow. Bigger than all the other guys blowers for sure.
I was a little worried about young Clint at this point, but he had a busy morning lined up with his truck and plow. He left right after he finished moving our snow.
But, lo and behold, and much to my husband's dismay, that “Dang, bleepity, do-gooder kid!” showed up after every storm with his truck and blade.
He moved all of Larry’s snow before he could even get his combat gear on.
What a shame, huh?
*I always made sure the $35 I’d promised Clint was in his mailbox as soon as the roads were cleared to the post office.
The extra $15 was for coming to our place first, and for keeping his mouth shut.
Yep.
Just one case of, “If a woman’s going to be married for a long time she’ll need a good, strong, defense.”
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