In January my grandparents reached a momentous milestone in their married life – their 60th wedding anniversary. Naturally, the occasion filled with me pride, but it also got me thinking about the factors that made a marriage stand the test of time, especially since this the year that Marina and I tie the knot (whether the knot is around my neck, remains to be seen).
Looking back at the life my grandparents shared together, I was not surprised to find that it overflowed with copious amounts of love, more than a fair share of respect and liberal doses of understanding, communication and honesty. That is all well and good, but what I was really searching for was how my grandfather kept my grandmother in high spirits, because as the saying goes, “happy wife, happy life”. Try as I might, I could not find the use of any illicit concoctions, alcohol or sedatives. I don’t even think Valium had been formulated back then, let alone the wheel.
I was all set to give up my quest and ask the man himself when I found what I was looking for. My grandfather’s secret (and for any husbands or boyfriends out there, take note) was not to lavish my grandmother with diamond earrings or invest in a pair of sturdy ear muffs, but to utter a simple phrase at every available opportunity – “Yes Dear.”
If by the last statement you think my grandmother liked to offer up advice and suggestions willy nilly then you are absolutely correct. Even her stroke and spiral into dementia did not stop her from nagging.
My grandfather’s tactic of “Yes Dear” is not limited to him alone and as I found out, is actually a part of the collective consciousness of married couples everywhere.
Bourke’s wife Sarah has instructed me via email to “just agree ok…don’t argue…just agree!” This advice was compounded by my best man, Rudolph, who suggested for whatever reason (most probably fear) that “Marina…can be the task master” and I “can be the union and HR who follows the dictatorship”. Then again, since he mentioned “taskmaster” and “dictatorship”, he may have been referring to something else entirely, and since this blog is PG rated, I won’t get into Rudolph’s thought process.
With such handy advice, it would be easy to assume that I am under the thumb, well, that is not true! Marina does not nag! Not yet anyway. She does however have an excellent teacher, by way of Sarah. If you don’t believe me ask Bourke, but you have to speak up, because after a few years of marriage he is partially deaf in one ear.
I may have not yet had to echo the two golden words my grandfather used religiously through his life, but I still find the only time I get some peace and quiet is when I retreat to my throne room. Even then my solitude is brief, because like Poe’s raven, there is rapping at my chamber door wanting to know “what the hell am I doing in there?”
Don’t get me wrong though, Marina, while not a fully fledged nagger, or as my mum terms it, “a creative consultant”, still has ways to plant extra grey hairs and expand my bald spot.
For one, gone are the days when Marina would consult me first and go through with any organisation that is required. Nowadays, it’s the other way around and she simply tells me where to go and what time I have to be there.
Here let me give you an example of what I mean:
Marina rang me at work the other day.
I answered the phone: “Hey babe? What’s up?”
With Marina it’s a question that causes more harm than good. Instead of getting straight to the point she rattled off sentences about hair, make up, the improper use of white out in exams, the weather in Albania, a goat and why A-line dresses are better than B-line skirts. I would tell you why, but not only couldn’t I keep up with her explanation but I was blown away that designer’s even made dresses to represent the alphabet. The only garment I know that is letter based begins with G.
Fifteen minutes later she arrived at the reason for the call “…Hun I want to arrange a meeting with the organist, so we could sort out the music for the ceremony.”
“Sure,” I replied. “What date did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking next Saturday? ‘Round about 3?”
“Suits me!”
“Good, because it’s already booked in.”
I could not believe it. Naturally I was not going to take this lying down and took a page out of Bourke’s book – “Marriage for stubborn Taureans!” and I shot back: “You did, did you? What if I said it was not fine?
“Then there is a rolling pin with your name it,” Marina fired at me.
“That’s okay because it’s located in a kitchen with your name on it. You can find it next to the instructions for the pie you are going to make me.”
That statement left my ears ringing for the rest of the day. Marina never cease’s to amaze me. While being well read, she still has the uncanny ability to use four letter words with aplomb and class.
This process repeated itself when it came time to go and select our wedding cake. Marina called me and suggested date and time. I knew it was ruse and the appointment was already in place. Not wanting a repeat performance from the last phone call, I sighed quietly, adjusted my hearing protection (in case my foot inadvertently ended up in my mouth) and told Marina that whatever date she wanted was fine and I would make sure to clear my calendar.
Marina’s prowess for creative consulting is not limited to phone conversations, but to email also.
Remember that zany adventure in Kraft glue I mentioned. Well it was not as crazy as I expected, simply because the boys and I did what we told (for once) and the girls used the Kraft glue to good effect, not only to assemble the invitations but on our mouths as well.
If you haven’t already realised it, the previous paragraph is the (incredibly short) blog detailing our “Invitation Party.” On the surface it may appear that this has nothing to do with the theme of this blog. I beg to differ. Marina with great skill and dexterity deftly organised this little gathering with numerous emails. I was extremely grateful to find that I had made it to the “cc” list.
At this rate, I wonder if I will get an invitation to the wedding, because I certainly did not get one to the Bridesmaid dress fitting.
I know what all you guys are thinking, ‘isn’t that a good thing?’ Yes it is, however you have understand what my role as Groom to be entails. Amongst other duties, I have to be suave, debonair, sexy, make inappropriate comments at the wrong time, offer unwanted advice, annoy Marina and most importantly be the official chauffer. If you had not already guessed, my pet name for Marina is “Miss Daisy.”
I take my role as a driver very seriously and so you can understand my distress when Marina fixed dates and times with the girls and did not include me. My bride however is nothing but magnanimous when she forgets me and always offers her apologies profusely. Here, let me show you the email she sent me when she realised her slip up:
“Babe,
The girls are going to get fitted for the bridesmaid dresses this Saturday. The information is below. Be there!
The Boss”
I would have argued, but in all honesty I knew it would have got me nowhere, so instead my email back was along the lines of “Yes dear.”
If you are wondering, the length of this blog has surpassed four pages and by the way things are turning out, it could very easily turn into a book. Each day brings with it more “Yes Dear” moments turning this entry from a self contained piece of prose to a work in progress, because who knows what the coming months and years will bring.
This means that instead of concluding this blog in the traditional sense, I want to end it on a personal note because this particular entry was extremely hard to write. About half way through not only was I struck down with writers block, but my grandmother was admitted into hospital. Sadly, it was a one way trip.
I was actually editing this blog by her bedside when she passed away. For that I am grateful because in her last moments on earth, she got to see her grandson at his happiest – with his bride to be at his side and doing what he loves most.
With that in mind, I dedicate this blog entry to my grandmother, Olga Thomas, the most loving creative consultants who ever lived, and who at 91 years, was still happy to tell us where to go and what to do. May she Rest In Peace.
