Our Longest Argument

I have written before about the longest and as yet unresolved argument between Marty and me, who’s smarter.  It’s a 35 year plus disagreement where we are both completely entrenched in our positions.  We both really believe one of us is smarter we simply can’t agree on who that is.

Yesterday we sat in the living room doing some exercises with plans to go on a regular Sunday afternoon drive, kind of like old people in the 50’s but with $3.50 per gallon gasoline. 

 

We are thinking about replacing our car before maintenance costs add up to more than its worth so I have been looking at various transportation alternatives which suit our very specific needs.  I’m trying to figure a way to avoid a mini-van.  I think mini-vans are very cool, we used to have one, but my coolness quotient would take a massive hit if I had to drive one every day, it could destroy the last vestiges of my manhood.

I had mentioned to Marty earlier in the day that I would like to drive her by the cars I was looking at to get her opinion.  Regardless of her impairments I still need and want her agreement and approval to spend this kind of money.  It’s important to me and to her that she be involved.

I asked her, “Do you remember what we are going to do on our drive?”

She said, “Yes, you’re going to show me a couple of cars?”

Being the wise-ass that I am I reply, “See you’re not so dumb are you, you remember stuff.”

Marty, “I’m not dumb, just a little brain damaged.”

Me, “Absolutely right you’re not dumb.”

I bent down to wheel chair eye level and kind of whispered in her ear, “Do you still think you’re always the smartest person in the room.”  Marty was not always the most secure person you would ever meet but she was always secure in her intellect.

Marty looked me square in the eyes and said, “Sure do, in fact I know I’m the smartest person in this room.”

Just for good measure, she smiles and with those blue eyes twinkling she said, “Look around the room, I am the smartest person in this room,”

I had to laugh, she got me again.  In my youth someone surely would have hollered, “She really rocked on you.”  She did rock on me pretty good.

I’m really not ready to concede on this 35 year old fight of who’s smarter, but there are days, even today, even with the brain damage, I know one of us is clearly smarter.

One of Us Really is Smarter

I ain’t no saint; which in our marriage is a bit symmetrical because neither is my wife, Marty. We have loved and fought through multiple years, through multiple states and continents. One of us was always right. Our longest running disagreement is over which of us is really smarter. We agree one of us is, we just can't agree on whom. I know but I'm not telling.

Some of our fights were just stupid, some were inane, and some were life changing. Some of the stupid ones really are amazingly dumb. The stupidest being the time I got mad at Marty for almost telling me where to park. Yes she did, she thought it, I know she thought it and I was absolutely positively completely right to call her on it. Uh-huh.

Beyond the whole love, soul-mate thing Marty and I have stayed together all of these years for any number of reasons. We are both incredibly stubborn, we are both very passionate in our beliefs and our marriage has been one of our passions. We haven’t always been successful in taking care of each other or our marriage but we would never, ever give up on it.

I know because I tried one autumn night at the close of the millennium. I was working in Dallas most of the time; I was gone most of the time. I was emotionally and physically tired, I was grouchy, and I was at my limit. Marty was too. She hated her job, she worried for her parents 500 miles away and we were on the cusp of having an empty nest. She complained and cried way too much and about her job one too many times and I just lost it.

That Saturday night I said things that I think all of us have deeply imbedded in our brains but know better than to voice. I was insulting, I was degrading, and I told her I wasn’t sure we needed to stay married anymore. I’ve completely blocked the words from my memory because of the guilt but I remember Marty’s face and eyes when I said I didn’t know if we should stay married.

She was shocked, she was shaken, her face was pale, angry and amazed all at the same time. In all of the years we had been married, in all of our fights, in all of our disagreements I had never said what I said that night. I said it because I was tired, angry, fed-up and I thought I meant it. We quit talking that night and slept in separate rooms.

The next day was Sunday and I had to go and teach my daughter about God’s love in Sunday school. I remember feeling this immense sadness and an overriding sense of hypocrisy as I talked to the 16 and 17 year olds about God. Somehow Marty, Erin and I managed to sit through the church service and all I could feel, besides wanting to weep, was this feeling of what have I done. I just felt wrong in so many ways.

I don’t know how we got there but after church Marty and I drove to a small park close to our house. This I remember, she talked about how she didn’t want a divorce, she didn’t want to be a part time parent, she didn’t want to be the estranged parent at graduation or the first wedding, she didn’t want to be the other grandparent and she didn’t think I wanted that either. My gut churned and I knew I didn’t want to live that life either.

We talked sporadically the rest of the day, not much really. We had both talked and said way too much anyway. In the ensuing days, weeks and months I came to see the mistakes I had made, I came to understand I had been part of letting our marriage start to wither away from neglect and fatigue.

We went and talked to the right people and they helped repair part of the damage I/we had done, not just that night, but over the previous couple of years. It took Marty months before she began to trust me again, something that had never before been an issue. It took Marty having the strokes for her to really believe I would not abandon her. Now she knows my commitment to her.

One Saturday evening about two years after our big blow out Marty and I met with the right Reverend Jimmie, his wife and one very close friend in the sanctuary of our church. The lights were low, it was pleasantly quite and soft sunshine slid through the stained glass windows. Marty and I stood facing each other and once again pledged to love, honor, and cherish each other. We talked of respect, stubbornness, pride, commitment and love. We promised to once again be partners for life.

I will always believe Marty’s stubbornness, her willingness to forgive, her humility, her foresight and wisdom saved us that day. She reminded me why I loved her, she reminded why I married her, she reminded me who I really was and who I really wanted to be. I will always be grateful.