For Better Or For Best ...

Have I ever told you about my wife? Probably not. I mean why would I? Wait, I mean some secrets are better off kept secret than shared. Hold everything … Stop the presses. I’ve really messed up. Let’s start over.

Allow me to share with you some information concerning my wonderful wife. Her name is Mardell. We’ve been married for more than 43 years. Mardell is part German and part Cherokee Indian. Much of her early schooling was in the country of Panama and she speaks Spanish very fluently. She only speaks Spanish to me when she gets mad. Let me say this. If you have a German and an Indian heading toward you speaking in Spanish, it’s time to take a stroll around the block. For more than 43 years I’ve been a man of the open air. But Mardell has taught me numerous valuable lessons about life. Lessons I would not have learned otherwise.

First, you should know that I am ten years older than she is. That means that I was a half-grown boy when Mardell was yet an unborn fetus. I know. You’re most likely thinking that I “Robbed the Cradle.” Maybe so but I’ll tell you this. A cradle is not all that bad if you find the right cradle. Yep, I was 27 and she was 18 when we got married. “When you find true love, you will love the truth.” Pretty neat quote isn’t it? I made it up.

One of the first lessons I learned from Mardell had to do with my driving habits. I had driven cars for twelve years prior to our getting married. But once we were married I learned that I drove too fast, rushed up to stop signs, and did not use my turn signals and had several other qualities lacking in the delicate skills of driving.

Especially am I prolific in missing turns when driving someplace. Mardell asks questions like, “Did you know you missed your turn?” or “Why are we going in this direction?” or “Do you know where you are going?”

Seemingly I do have a problem finding my way around Houston when she is with me in the car. When she is not with me I seem to do just fine. Just her presence seems to scramble my internal navigational instruments.

One night we left Jones Hall in downtown Houston after enjoying a nice symphony concert. We were driving west on Westheimer Road looking for our street, Fondren Road. Evidently I passed Fondren without seeing it. My wife started saying things like, “Seems like we should be home by now. How come it’s taking so long?” Or “I didn’t know we lived in a Vietnamese community.” When we reached the intersection of Highway 6, I realized that we were several miles west of our intended destination. I asked Mardell why she hadn’t called attention to the fact that we were off-course. She replied with a smile, “I just wanted to see where you would go.” Somehow this stunt of hers did not amuse me. It amused her greatly.

Here is why this all came about. I had started telling her one of my Beaumont stories. When I start in on one of those she just lets me talk. I don’t know if she listens or not but I think she is glad I started writing. When I write the stories out, I don’t have to talk them out. She doesn’t have to listen to them as much anymore. And I don’t seem to get lost as often.

When it’s true love, things have a way of working out OK.

Winston Hamby
The Beaumont Enterprise
January 6, 2007
Whamby@houston.rr.com