Archives 2017

Listen to Me, Eddie Bert! Darling Sylvia, Listen to me, Eddie Bert! How many times over the last fifty-two years have you made that simple request. Listening has never been my strong suit. I should know better. The Good Lord gave me two ears, two eyes, two hands, two knees, and two hearts (yes, we really have two hearts – one that pumps to the lungs and a second that pumps blood from the lungs to the rest of the body (Leo De Vinci).

The mouth is a solitary organ. Any idiot knows that a husband needs to listen more and talk less. Listening has always been difficult for me. First, I need to take the time. The job, yard, garden, greenhouse, Lions football game, our kids (Charity Jean and Nathan), our grands (Abby, Archer and Aryn), our cats (Peter and Sammy), my hunger, my energy level, my needs are important to me. If I listen to you, I’ll have to stop what I am doing.  You know by now how easily distracted I can be.

Oh, all right. I’ll admit that when you say Listen to me, Eddie Bert, I get a little scared. The we that is our relationship is the pearl beyond price in my life. Listen to me, Eddie Bert!  I sit down facing you, put my knees outside of yours (it keeps me from running away), take both of your hands in mine, check for hives to see if I am in big trouble, then I look into your eyes and listen to you, not only with my two ears but with my two hearts.

What are your feelings? What is on your heart?  How can I make a difference?  You are important enough for me to listen to you..  The We of Us rules my world.

Loving you, Eddie Bert

Dear Eddie,  Reposo is a gift. Most marriages could use one. The best reminder of our wonderful trip to Italy is the adoption of reposo into our daily life. We talk a great deal about the need for rest and peace in our busy lives. I can get all heady about spiritual rest for my soul and about refreshing changes of pace, like romantic trips. But, the rest I like first is the physical and emotional rest of reposo with you.

When we returned from Italy, we said that if a whole culture could stop business for a reposo in the middle of the day, we could, too. We are, after all, retired without the strictures of a work place. But, if we let it happen, any day will eat away our time for stopping for rest. Volunteer this and that can fill a day as quickly as the office ever did. Now, I treasure the mid day time for you and me, piled up on the bed with two cats and a blanket. It is truly permissible for us to take that time. We are the ones who must make sure we get it.

We guard reposo as necessary, almost sacred. We plan for it, as in “when are we having reposo today?” I finish errands so I can get home to reposo with you. We keep in touch with each other so that “junk” between us doesn’t make distracting tension. We turn off dryer-finished buzzers and make sure the cats are inside so someone isn’t meowing at the window. We put down task lists. And when you drop off to sleep, and begin to “purr,” I make myself stay bodily settled, which is against my obsessive inclination. And, when the “school bus time alarm” sounds, we are thankful for our reposo. We are refreshed, good with each other, and able to get to bedtime with grandchildren, through homework, basketball, hip-hop and all.

Reposo, a gift to ourselves and a gift to each other. What a deal!