Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the tag “marriage”

See (the) Gulls


As retired empty nesters the hubs and I are on the low key retirement plan. No RV or exotic journeys are on the agenda. Doing jigsaw puzzles, reading books, talking walks, backyard birding, and watching a good mystery series are adventurous enough for us. Going Costco and lunch is a big outing for us.

I will confess we will get really crazy now and then and binge three episodes of Dr. Blake pushing our bedtime past 10:30 pm.

Now this might either sound like an extremely boring way to spend what is considered our twilight years or it might be an ideal of retirement life. To each their own, eh?

Three years into retirement and we are in a groove and spontaneity is perhaps not so much on our minds anymore. Staying at home is quite pleasant actually. Why spend money and have to deal with other people? I know—this mindset does limit date ideas when we do decide to go out.

So on the third rainy day when cabin fever was setting in my no-let’s-stay home husband got a glimmer in his eye and suggested going for a drive.

Yes, it was still raining out. But getting out was needed, plus maybe spontaneity has its place. I assented and off we drove.

Truthfully, driving around town in the rain is not that fun although parking the car overlooking the marina proved rather pleasant.

As we sat there gazing at the rain languidly connecting with the bay I laughed as the windows began steaming up, wondering if cars passing by were wondering what we were up to. It’s nice to know that after 40 years of marriage we still can generate heat in a parked car. Admittedly it was all talk and no action.

It is nice that we still have the capacity of great conversation after four plus decades of marriage. The topic at hand was why were there year round seagulls residing at an inland lake. In our thirty or so years living in a town that boasts having an impressively large freshwater lake that has always been on my mind.

So we asked Siri, which I have named Jarvis, after selecting a British voice for my iPhone AI.

Well, they aren’t seagulls. In fact there is no such thing as a seagull. There are only gulls. And some live by the sea.

Sea period. Gull period.

My goodness that stumped us. How do I possibly unlearn a lifetime of calling a bird by the wrong name?

The point of this post is that if we hadn’t veered from our comfortable lifestyle for a bit of spontaneous getaway time we would not have learned a most enlightening fact.

So—take a moment to do something a bit different than usual (a hearty recommendation is to stay safe and sane in your decision) because you just might have an opportunity to learn something worth knowing.

Yes, and the bonus of our outing is realizing that I am my husband’s best gull friend.

NPM: #12–a love poem


Love

William Carlos Williams, 18831963

Love is twain, it is not single,
Gold and silver mixed to one,
Passion ‘tis and pain which mingle
Glist’ring then for aye undone.

Pain it is not; wondering pity
Dies or e’er the pang is fled;
Passion ‘tis not, foul and gritty,
Born one instant, instant dead.

Love is twain, it is not single,
Gold and silver mixed to one,
Passion ‘tis and pain which mingle
Glist’ring then for aye undone.

I first met William Carlos Williams whilst learning how ill-equipped I was to be in the Masters in the Teaching of writing program at Humboldt. I was quite illiterate when it came to poetry and the classics. My writing wasn’t up to snuff either. I even had a professor tersely whisper in my ear how I got in the program. The moment of crisis eventually passed once I gained understanding that poems weren’t really some mysterious language dropped out of the sky for mortals to puzzle over. Dr. Williams lent his red wheelbarrow to me one day, and I began to relax and realize that poetry was simply another way of listening to the heart.

33 in 2015: a love story


Marriage is like a long-playing record–a bit of static, some scratches, a couple of skips now and then, but overall the music compensates for the irregularities that occur. image: bunko/morguefile

 

33 years ago, my hubs, whom I affectionately designate as MEPA (most excellent personal assistant) and I, stood on a slip of beach in the calm of a January storm and exchanged vows. I was 25 and he 36.

Neither one of us thought marriage when we first met. Both of us, tired of the dating game and relationships gone wrong, thought it satisfying to have a working relationship. You see, I hired him to help me remodel the little shop I had decided to set up my balloon bouquet delivery service. The landlord had cut me a deal: remodel the store–I provide labor and he provide material. I gained six months free rent from that little agreement. I signed the line and upon recommendation, hired the cute guy sporting the fu manchu and curly hair who worked at the local hardware store. Auburn gingers are a weak spot.

The first night of work involved sheet-rocking the ceiling. It took the two of us, my entire repartee of elephant jokes, and about five hours to finish the job. I paid him the agreed sum of $65 and threw in a deli sandwich.
We met in October. I proposed two weeks after meeting him and we eloped 56 days later. I thought getting married January first would be a significant way to start our new life together. Too broke to afford a reception or honeymoon, we found a pizza place open and had the place to ourselves.

Last night we celebrated our anniversary with dinner at a new restaurant and the owners sent over a delicious complimentary slice of key lime pie. The evening was topped by watching Anything Goes with Donald O’Conner and Bing Crosby. The Cole Porter score fits the general theme of our marriage: a bit whirlwind and somewhat lyrical.
We are opposite in tastes, strongly singular in outlook, and much more mellow than we used to be.
33 used to be a LP record designated for long playing–yup, just like it should be for marriage.
Happy New Year!!

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