Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Monday, September 7, 2009

Post Nuptual Agreement

A husband and wife are sitting in the den after dinner. He is reading a newspaper and she is sitting at a desk writing a letter. In the background a stereo is playing Chopin piano music. She turns her chair around to face him.

She: (stops writing) I’ve been thinking. I want to buy you a new wristwatch.

He: A new watch? I have a watch, it’s old, but it still works. Thanks, but one is enough for me.

She: It’s not for now. I want you to have something to remember me by.

He : In that case you can buy me a gold Rolex. I’ll remember you real good.

She: You don’t’have to remember me that much.

He: (Lowers the newspaper to his lap) What’s this remembering business? Are you trying to tell me something?

She: Why do you have to have to read a meaning like that into a simple offer? I just want you to have something to remember me.

He: If I go first you will have wasted your money.

She: (She ignores that) Another thing. You will say Yarhzeit for me when the time comes, the way you do for your parents on the anniversary of their death? That is if your second wife won’t object.

He: I can’t believe it! Is that what this is all about? Forget it, there won’t be a second wife.

She: Every man needs a wife to take care of him.

He: It will be expensive but I’ll take my shirts to the laundry.

She: Have I been such a bad wife that you would not want to be married again?

He: Mmmm. let me think about that. (He pretends to think). No, I wouldn’t say that. It’s just that to be fair to another wife I’d have to show her that I care and I can’t see myself wanting to put that much into a wife again.

She: That’s nice.

He: Besides, considering my age and whom I would marry it could end up that I’d have to take care of her. To paraphrase your favorite poet: “In caring there is responsibility”.

She: You might have to take care of me some day.

He: That’s different. You’ve earned that right.

She: Fifty-six years is a long time. What was the best part?

He: There was no best part. It was all good.

She: You don’t mean that. A marriage is never “good” all the time. Like the time we quarreled when you wanted to go to Prague and I wanted to go to Budapest. C’mon tell me the best part.

He: The whole was better than the parts – satisfied now?

She: I knew it! Some parts were not good. (She laughs.) Remember the Mikado we saw in Sarajevo? Katishaw was ugly but she was said to have a beautiful left elbow.

He: I remember the seats were $1.70 and you sat next to the English lady who was married to the Lord High Executioner. It was opening night and people were all dressed up in and it was televised. That was the best Mikado I ever saw. It was a good trip. (They fall silent).

She: One more thing. We talked about it but we never did anything about the cemetery lots. Shouldn’t we do something now?

He: Well, with both kids living north of Boston we should buy plots up there. It’ll be handy if they want to drop by once in a while.

She: Remember to talk to the kids next time we see them.

He: Besides, at the rate our friends are dying off, it’ll get pretty lonely around here. We should probably move up there sometime soon.

She: I’ve been thinking about that, too. (they fall silent).

She: I’m finished interrupting. You can go back to your newspaper. (he resumes reading, she returns to her letter).

April 3, 1990

More Later, Joe

PS: In my previous blogs I have shared excerpts and essays like this one, from my past. My new book entitled, MY FIVE CAREERS: Increasing Brain Power and Promoting Longevity through Strenuous Exercise of the Mind, includes and is based on many of the ideals and illustrations posted at Joe's Place. Look for the book to be released in the Fall. It will be available in paperback at Amazon. I'll let you know more later. Joe


Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The Rewards of Day Dreaming

(continued from July 7, 2009)

My talent for [daydreaming] appeared at an early age. To my mortification, I saw that many of my childhood contemporaries were clearly more handsome, more clever, more worldly than I. From first grade on they received more valentines from the prettiest girls. In eighth grade they won the music memory contest and in High School they were the first to obtain a driver's license. Clutching my few valentines, struggling to distinguish Mozart from Beethoven, gaping at a yellow convertible speeding out of the school parking lot, I honed the self-isolating art of reinventing myself. I day dreamed that I received a valentine with a heart drawn on it from the prettiest girl in the class; that I could differentiate Prokofiev from Mahler and that I was an adolescent sophisticate driving with one hand on the wheel and the other around a girl. Thus, the motives in attending my 50th high school reunion were not entirely pure.

More Later, Joe

Friday, July 3, 2009

Just Like Starting Over

My seventies were for summing up. I thought about the person I had become and what I meant to others. I thought about the after-life of fatherhood when the true pleasure of being a father is found in happiness for what the children have become, for what they have done and how they have grown in the doing.

In the nineties one must find new motivations for going on. The goals I had set for myself earlier had given me a destination. Goal setting is an art form, combining inspiration with self-expression. Art is said to mirror life. Well, a symphony ends with a flourish, a drama with an internal logic, a song climaxes on notes of beauty, a ballet ends with grace. The mirror must be rigged to break up in one's nineties. Then, as I tugged at this paradox, the solution came to me. Life is hugely interesting. As a man in passion allows himself to get involved with a woman, I, overcome with interest, understand that I want to live on.

More Later, Joe