60 Days To Heaven

Apparently, the entire world.

You have to forgive my bitterness on this issue. Today is my first wedding anniversary. It’s interesting because the same physiological changes I went through on my wedding day are the same one’s I’m going through today. Minus the excessive sweating.

I’m so blessed. I’m so happy. I’m so thrilled to be with such a good woman, that it’s hard to contain in my spirit, let alone communicate through words. And yet, everywhere I turn on my Google reader, there’s some kind of report about Alex Rodriguez’ divorce.

Dude makes more money in a year then I’ll me, my children and my grand-children will see in a lifetime. Women all over the world love this guy, probably even more that he’s broken up with his wife and is banging Madonna. I’m certain he’ll recover, just like every other celebrity and athlete who thinks side tail is the best tail.

Truth is, I’m insanely jealous. I’m in a relationship that should be the hot topic of every talk show, radio call-in and magazine, because unlike 50 percent of the marriages out there, ours works. Are we perfect? Hell no. Do we fuss and fight? Of course. Do we have a lot of work to do? Absolutely.

But we cherish all of that, and commit to all of that. So much of the world’s attention is dedicated to what goes wrong in marriages, and the dirt that flies when they are over. But I won’t get buried in it. I’m on Cloud 9 looking down at the muck and mire that marriage has become in our society.

So, good luck to Alex Rodriguez and his family, but please excuse me for enjoying something much more interesting than his crumbling relationship - then extension and celebration of my own.

My wife and I attended the funeral of a very sweet lady today. She lived a long life of service to the Lord, and kind deeds and words unto all who knew her. Her life and passage into its next phase gave me reason to consider the parallels of life and death within a relationship.

Joy and pain, happiness and remorse, good times and arguments.

Prior to the funeral, my wife and I spent approximately five hours arguing about a wide range of faults and inconsistencies. It was as heated as we have argued in a long time, heated without yelling and screaming, which was a good thing.

We eventually finished up the fight around 5:00 A.M., with an approximate wake up time of 8:0O A.M. to prepare for the funeral. Everybody out there that argues with a loved knows that you really don’t sleep well with an argument not having a resolution, so you’re probably talking three hours of shut-eye between us.

But when we woke up, bleary-eyed and wary of each other’s feelings and intentions for the day, we some how managed to hash things out. In a fraction of the time it took us to pridefully boast about what we don’t do wrong and how right we are, the short words of “I’m sorry,” and “I was wrong” buried the anxiety borne in the midnight hour.

Just like that.

And that’s how life is. You spend so many years building towards these professional, social and spiritual goals, with disappointments and failures along the way. You struggle, shed tears and second-guess yourself all along the way.

And then one day, it’s all over. Gone in an instant. Everybody else is stuck with the memories good and bad, and the results of how you governed yourself.

When we argue, we don’t forget the terms, the tone or the time it takes to get to a place of understanding. But when we decide its time to bury the hatchet, it’s over in a flash. Each of us is left with the result of the fighting, but we’re willing to leave that result six feet under to rejoice about time well spent.

Knowing that you don’t have much time to do as much as you can, a true sign of relationship maturity is making the most of the fleeting period of love and happiness. They buoy us in times of hardships, and provided the burial ground for our less-than-favorable moments.

Even basement dwellers need a break every now and then, so imagine how a full-time blogger/pr professional would feel?

To that end, the wife and I are headed west to Las Vegas. Sun, shows, shopping and slots are ahead, worries can stay here in Baltimore. I’m too lazy to write posts ahead of time, so I will see you all when I get back.

Regular activities will resume on July 3.

Peace.

Killing your son’s daughter? Because she’s not Indian? Is it really that serious, people?

I can’t even get to the racial implications of this case without first mourning how a father could destroy his own son like that. Sure, this goes a long way in showing how culture can be blinding, but murder?

Whatever happened to " I’m not speaking to you," or "I totally forgot it was your birthday?" People are killing over marriage now?

What a sick world in which we live.

I just heard today that one of my good friends called off his wedding. And not like one of those, "I’m nervous, but I’ll be right back on track" faux cancellations.

I’m talking about throw the girl out, change the locks, don’t pick up your phone cancellations.

I really feel for the brother, because even though I don’t know the whole story, for something to be drastic enough to reverse field on a marriage has to be major. Major enough that you should have seen it coming before you asked the big question.

But it also brings up the question of how do you communicate in the toughest of times? What happens when you want to blame the world for something gone wrong, but only your spouse is around?

What happens in times of crisis?

I can honestly say throughout the course of my relationship, we’ve never really had a major crisis. We’ve blown things out of proportion and acted like it was a crisis, but nobody was dying or dead, we weren’t bankrupt, and no one’s trust was betrayed.

By profession, I know how to deal with crisis situations. You assess the problem, acclimate yourself and your constituents to how it can be best addressed, and move towards fixing it. Somehow, the seamless plan always seems to burst at the seams in times of high emotion and confusion.

But with time, you learn from your partner all of the buttons to push and not push. You learn about buzz words, buzz topics, and how they buzzzaw right through your partner’s heart. Whenever you have a big fight? You can take it as a lesson on what not to say or how not to say it.

Some things you just can prevent, like a sudden traumatic experience or a devastating loss. What you can do is learn that silence is good medicine in matters of the heart. It allows personal reflection on both ends, and for the need to reach out to flourish.

I hope that’s what my buddy learns to do. Because if you don’t learn to reach out, you eventually withdraw so much that no one can reach you.

I have to admit, I did become a fan of ‘Sex and the City’ before I met my wife, but the debates about the show’s themes were not as poignant or as meaningful before her. The movie debuts tomorrow, and while I would prefer that my wife make it a girls night out event, I’ll probably be tagged along to make up for her viewing of ‘Iron Man.’

The show has excellent writing, is well acted, and dutifully maintained its character arc without jumping the shark. But, there was a real and present lack of minority representation in the show, and aside from Blair Underwood playing a fleeting love interest for Cynthia Nixon’s character Miranda Hobbs, I really can’t remember any people of color.

My favorite marriage blog has a really great post on it, and it’s from a woman’s perspective. For the movie, they did bring in Jennifer Hudson, but clearly Effie White isn’t going to pardon SATC for seasons of colorless drama. In the meantime, I’m trying to get my mind right for what’s sure to be two hours of inside women’s jokes, stories from episodes I may have missed, and squeals of delight out of my beloved.

Chris Cooley is a tight end for the Washington Redskins, and he’ll be getting married soon. He recently wrote about it on his blog for Yahoo! Sports. If you ever wanted to know what a rich, young and handsome pro athlete thinks about marriage, try this on for size.

While I can’t wait to put the ring on I’ve had some resoundingly bad conversations over the last couple of months. Golf may have an uncountable list of ethics, though bothering a complete stranger about getting married is not one of them. First of all, I’m excited for the big day, so please don’t feel sorry for me because marriage
sucks for you. No, I’m not nervous, I don’t want any marriage advice, and yes Christy’s mom is still hot.

Consider my attempt at cornering the young married man’s blogging niche GONE.

Right about now, my wife and I are jumping back and forth between the American Idol finale and Game 1 of the Western Conference finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the San Antonio Spurs. If I had my druthers, David Cook and David Archuleta would be on the morning Internet check, but since I’m married, their competition is required viewing.

Does it suck? Of course. But is it important? Absolutely.

After all, the Spurs and the Lakers have seven games to get it right. Cook and Archuleta have this one night. But in both circumstances, the magic of Comcast DVR perfects the art of the marital compromise.

As long as the Lakers play it out like David Cook, I have no beef.

Is it their nurturing nature? Is it their looks? Its something about a
wife that just lulls you into a sense of security and warmth. The soft
place for you to fall and be totally who you are leads you into paths
of comfort and familiarity.

Is that why its so easy to lean on your wife?

I’ve gotten used to the notion of being asked to do chores. I’ve always hated housework, so a domestic kick in the pants every now and then helps to motivate me for things I don’t like to do. And I know that marriage means conjoined efforts in all major decisions.

But sheesh, I never would’ve imagined that she would have worked her voodoo on me so much that I come to expect her input on certain things, or that she would have the expectation of providing it.

As I write this, my wife is probably going over a resume’ I am putting together. Keep in mind that I’m a professional writer, but my wife is no slouch by any means. She can run circles around me all day, correcting my imperfect grammar. Nevertheless, when I told her I would be preparing a resume’ for a job search, she asked to see it. And not like, "ooooh, can I see it when you’re finished?" More like, "Email it to me for formatting changes and recommendations."

And of course, I mumbled, "Sure, baby."

I remember sitting there thinking, "Now how did I evolve to this point?" Every instinct within me told me to yell "Woman, dis’ here is my resume’, and I’m not gon’ be takin’ no lip service from you bout’ it, hear?" But, what started as a passage from Toni Morrison’s "Song of Solomon" eventually evolved into a verse from the Book of Proverbs,

A wise man will hear and increase learning, and a man of understanding will attain wise counsel.

Your wife is the best person to bring out the best in you. No one knows more about your strengths, your weaknesses, your intent and your ability. If you can’t respect that a wife, like a mother, like a sister, only wants for you to be the best that you can be, you’ve missed the train on one of the true joys of marriage.

Sometimes its helpful to know your place in a marriage. The macho perspective is to feel like you are the alpha male and have the capability to make all important decisions and moves. Anything less is an insult and a disgrace to manhood. But every now and then, it’s wise to exchange disgrace for saving grace.

The closer I get to my wife, and the more acclimated I become to living in Middle River, MD., the more I realize that I really miss my friends from back home. All of these wonderful happenings are occurring in my life, and my crew from Seat Pleasant, MD and other parts throughout the eastern seaboard can only share them in weekend visits, text messages and fleeting phone calls.

My assumption in getting married is that the whole "forsaking all others" part of the vows would be serious, but not to the point that I would miss the company of other guys my age. Its hard being the boy and girl genius on the block; everyone is older than us, and everybody we know close to our age is not married and do not like like the prospect of rolling as a third wheel.

Thank God for frat brothers, but even then I’m caught between undergraduates who need to be wild to justify their age, 30-somethings just pulling back on their wilding, and 60-somethings who just enjoy watching the first two groups waste the energy unnecessarily. I’ve been pretty lucky in meeting cool guys on the job and in the neighborhood, but nothing has materialized.

In church, there are plenty of cool gentlemen to associate with, but you can’t call those brothers up and ask, "let’s get some brews and some ribs and catch that Ravens game." First, the game is during the service.  Second, grabbing a few brews usually isn’t a good line to open up with when speaking to parishioners. Although some folks just might be down with that kind of proposal.

Maybe this summer will bring about some solid friendships in my new hometown, but between vacations, summer school, and still enjoying the honeymoon, Jesus still might wind up being my closest homeboy in the area.