Monday, July 2, 2012

On 57 Years

Ahhh, Tom Cruise is divorcing . . . again. Wow, Dog bites man . . . real news. Next they’ll be telling me that Newt Gingrich is divorcing Plasticwoman. Such tales are evidence that we have way too much news media pursuing way too little news. Perhaps we need to move to a system where we get one hour per day of news coverage, which is probably more than we need, but give the newsies their due. They need to earn their megabucks salaries.

And on that same front, I understand that Rupert the Magnificent is breaking up his empire into two entities: News, and Entertainment. Now, if we assume that the Times of London and the Wall Street Journal still pretend to news, I wonder how the rest break up? We know that the Faux News Network is definitively not news, but what exactly is it? Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert are our very own fake news shows, but they are comedians, and they are in fact funny. The Faux News Network is not funny—ever. They cast delusional psychopaths, and blond bimbos, all of whom read from a script written for them by Rupert’s hidden staff. No fun there. Faux News is in fact the PR arm of the republican party—remember them?? The Grand Old Party. Ah yes, definitely the party of the 19th century.  So, maybe Faux News goes into Rupert's Faux entertainment group, not because they’re entertaining, but because they’re just not news, by any definition.
Now if we can just get the various entertainment divisions to shut up about Cruise, Gingrich et al, whenever they get divorced, we’ll be happier.  We don’t care people, unless you attempt in your pathetic little ways to speak about the sanctity of marriage. Please, refrain guys.
But on that subject, good marriages, happy marriages, marriages that demonstrate the worthiness of the institution, we must give thanks to that grand old day, July 2nd, 1955. That was the day my wife of 57 years agreed to marry me and said, “I do” And I repeated the vow to our minister, Mr. Zeltner—now he was a grand old man. We dearly loved Mr. Z. And unlike priests today, say of the Catholic Order, Mr. Z, a good man of that non-Catholic world called Episcopalians, pronounced us Husband and Wife . . . in sickness and health, til death us do part.
We took those vows seriously. And we have lived a good life together. Life is not always easy, but somehow ours has always seemed, well, just very, very good.  We have little rituals each day that we follow. We have a morning cappuccinos, and toast, “To us,” just before we go to sit beside our koi pond and feed the koi’s, watching them cavort, and admiring our birds, our dragons, our hummers, as they feed within our little outdoor garden room. We look each other in the eyes, when we toast one another, with a glass of wine as the sun begins its descent.
And we kiss good night as we head off to the land of wink and nod.
All good.
So, to my wife of 57 years, I toast you my dear, for making my life the wonder it is. Love is good, and I do so love you.
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