Even if we put politics aside, I have a whole other reason to oppose Scott Brown. It has to do with marriage–that venerable institution many of us know well.
Recently, I heard Mr. Brown—running for U.S. Senate here in New Hampshire—on the radio, answering questions. It was a re-broadcast, actually, of an event that had taken place as part of a series called “Rudman Center Conversations with the Candidates.”
At one point, I think when the NHPR host Laura Knoy mentioned how he almost always agreed with another politician, he said something close to this: “Oh, no, I don’t agree with him all the time; in fact there’s only one person I agree with on everything—and she’s sitting right over there.” I knew, with a kind of thud, that he was gesturing towards his wife, Gail.
If he intended that comment to endear himself to women all over the state, it sure didn’t work that way with me.
I mean, really, would agreeing with your spouse 100% of the time even be possible? And, even if you did, how terrifically boring would that kind of life be?
It seems to me that the benefits of a good marriage have more to do with creative cross-fertilization than with saying, “Yes, absolutely, dear” all the time. In a way, I suppose, it might be the difference between this image, of two separate lives completely merging, disappearing into a new entity…
And this one, of a double-trunked tree, organically connected where it counts, that a child can embrace fully.
In a way, it seems to me, both of these pictures are true depictions of marriage.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve grown as a person because of my husband’s presence. Right from the beginning of this union, along with his particular possessions, he also conveyed his entire individual nature in all of its uniqueness and splendor, and—sometimes—mystery, too. I started getting acquainted with him long ago, yes and then fell in love, but the whole process is still unfolding. It’s pretty fascinating, if you ask me. Here are several of the ways, in no particular order, that he’s influenced me:
1) I now listen to Stan Getz and Lucinda Williams regularly.
2) I try to do more listening, in general. Oh, and listening is more than just waiting to speak.
3) I see (my) clutter more for what it is; bareness has a certain appeal.
4) I want to try to become a better cyclist, even if I can’t keep up with him.
I could go on, but you get the idea.Probably, with no trouble, you could make your own list, too. And our spouses could also make theirs, we hope. That blockbuster book by Sheryl Sandberg called Lean In is all about what women need to do to get ahead; but the title could work just as well for marriage, couldn’t it? In love that lasts, we need to lean towards the other, pretty much every day.
But this is more about maintaining harmony than singing in unison all the time. In my English classes, I am a stickler for teaching students the importance of all kinds of grammatical agreement (they seem barely to notice these errors, while switching horses, or pronouns, in the middle of a sentence stream makes me writhe). At the dinner table, or just knocking around the house or doing stuff outside together with my husband, I’m finding that really satisfying sharing really does not depend upon seeing things eye-to-eye every minute. It’s often more about hashing out where exactly the stone wall should go or describing how you reacted to a certain encounter and, in so doing, giving your partner a glimpse into your soul, and enjoying the embrace of his, too.
Ok, so I don’t want to get too mushy here. It could possibly be that Scott Brown and his wife are so completely in synch with one another that they are riding a bicycle built for two off into the sunset, with frequent stops on the campaign trail. I can settle for lots of vigorous exercise—often separate, alas—with a steady dose of candlelit suppers, and conversation that’s good and lively and occasionally treads on new and challenging terrain. In the beginning, my husband and I (and probably you and your spouse, too) looked something like this:
Then, of course, came the gift of children around the table, and clamoring tongues from all directions. Soon enough, we may look more like this…
No matter. We’ll agree, we’ll disagree; the salt and pepper shakers will stay on the table, near the wine glasses; we’ll gaze at each other in the flickering light.