Murder is Everywhere: Meaning of marriage

Saturday, January 11, 2020

A Funny Thing Happened to Me on the Way to the Alt(a/e)r

Jeff—Saturday

I’m almost back to normal. Well, normal for me.

The last few weeks have been hectic, what with my impending (is that the right word for something good?) wedding, a tree falling directly above me as I napped by the windows, my almost seven-year-old granddaughter losing her two front teeth (cue the song), and my Texas granddaughter and grandson dazzling me with their thespian talents.

Hmm, perhaps I should rethink that last paragraph. No, not because my grousing must come across as pitifully self-absorbed in comparison to the horrors so many of our Australian friends and colleagues are enduring—our thoughts and prayers are with you all—but because now I’m married.

And my wife—there, I said it—may not take kindly to my grouping our wedding week in the same sentence with references to a near-death experience, the loss of body parts, and make believe.

Nah, she understands my ways. I’m sure she won’t even take notice.

Then again, she is an artist, and who knows what sort of subtle revenge she might take on her darling husband should she object. After all, wasn’t it Michelangelo who incorporated the faces of his enemies in the most unflattering of ways into his work?

This Vatican official’s face made it unflatteringly into Michelangelo’s Last Judgment for calling the work “unfit for sacred walls.”

I can only imagine (with trepidation) the sort of masterpiece a Barbara taking umbrage might be driven to create and label her “Jeffrey.”

Oy.

"Jeffrey." Not!

So, on to more pleasant thoughts—not to be perceived as groveling, mind you.

In all honesty, I never thought getting married would change the way I felt. After all, this is not exactly my first rodeo (I know, a highly questionable metaphor). Yet, over these past two weeks I’ve experienced a more measured calm and intensified sense of commitment to another soul than ever before in my life. I most certainly held those feelings for Barbara before we wed, but it’s as if an existential spiritual presence has come aboard to captain the course of our life together.

Then again, it all might just be those traditional cultural norms of my family that I flouted for so much of my life finally getting their mitts on my subconscious.

More likely it’s just the basic nature of Barbara in full flower. Whatever it is, I’m happy. Make that very happy.

Okay, enough of this saccharine romantic stuff. It’s time for me to get back to writing about murder and mayhem. And for Barbara to get back to working on her “Jeffrey.”

Perhaps now it’s safe to leave in that second paragraph. We shall see….