Memory #17 -- Rhythm

For all the faults of social media -- I'm looking at you Facebook -- there are some hidden gems to be found. At least for me. 

If you watch closely, you can find patterns of human behavior. More specifically, the patterns relevant to couples. Even more specifically the nuanced rhythms of those bound by marriage.

If you're lucky like me, you know several married couples who not only razz each other in the digital arena, but take great joy in the digital jousting. They post unflattering photos of their mates. They mock each other's anniversary gifts. And they say stuff like, "I should have joined the nunnery."

All with tongues planted firmly in cheek. 

Maybe I'm wrong, but in addition to laughing at their shenanigans, I always took these not-so-serious jabs and left crosses as a sign of a healthy relationship. 

Deb and I were married 29 years, 27 of them happy, as the old Rodney Dangerfield joke goes. We didn't take our jocularity to Facebook as some have artfully done, but there can be no doubt we playfully danced in lockstep to a rhythm that was all our our own. 

Years ago, we would watch Everyone Loves Raymond, you know when people were still watching sitcoms on network TV. What we loved about the show was how accurately they had captured the most entertaining minutia of heavenly marital bliss and the tit-for-tat reparte that no screenwriter or playwright could come close to nailing.

In one episode, the Romanos return home from a weekend vacation. They schlepp their luggage inside the house, and in a moment of absentmindedness Ray leaves a roll-on suitcase on the landing of the staircase.

That suitcase becomes the fulcrum point of the whole show. And who will crack first and pick it up. 

Here's a preview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sbk-w919r9M

Among many others, we loved that episode. That ratty immovable suitcase magically encapsulated the essence of couplehood, particularly well-worn, satisfyingly-comfortable couplehood.

Years later, when I thought she had forgotten the gag. I purposely did the same thing. I left a suitcase near the rear door of our house, a mere 20 yards from our garage where it belonged. 

Sure enough, life imitated sitcom. And that empty suitcase sat there. Immovable. As if it had been attached to the floor with 4 inch Hot Dip Galvanized Square Cut Floor Nails. 

Until it wasn't.

While sweeping our impossible to keep clean hardword floors, I watched as she came closer and closer to the suitcase. She put the broom down. Picked up the suitcase. And put just outside on the deck. She swept the floor where the luggage had been. And, knowing I was watching the entire event with my side eye, she reached back outside to retrieve the luggage and put it back where it had been for 3 weeks.

She smiled at me. She knew that I knew that she knew what I was doing.

I put down the NY Times and lugged the suitcase out to the garage. 

I miss my dance partner and that unspoken rhythm.