Comments on Mature Landscaping: Reduction and Roux

Roux is the basis of many fine things, esp. a grea...

2009-12-10T20:09:45.587-05:00

Roux is the basis of many fine things, esp. a great gumbo, a divine bouillabaisse - the best food I ever had. It's hard for me to accept that I have been reduced to a roux; I'd prefer to consider myself more like a huge pot of soup or a very fine armadillo chili. A fine blend of all the great spices, a richness that is filling and warm and there's plenty for everybody.

I find the older I get, the more my younger friends use me as a sounding board. They're mostly interested in their day-to-day lives and the respective drama (reduction) with good reason. Thus my role is not so much of sharing experiences but simply listening to theirs; similar to the way my mother listened to my ravings. I'm OK with that 1) I can appreciate what my mother did for me and 2) because I find the friends are nearer to my age do and can share our present lives and past lives on common ground and 3) my desire to listen deepens the friendship. Talk about words bitten back. I hope things like courage aren't shrinking. More likely the opposite - the courage to be honest, forthright, and yet empathetic.

Just because I may be starting to look like a roux doesn't mean that my being has. And I congealed some years ago. Rumor has it that Sherlock Holmes also used cocaine but most of us tend to love him in spite of it. I look forward to seeing Robert Downey, Jr. play this part - how apropo.

Mirabile dictu Saint Dymphna.

jack, I like the subtlety of this story. May you b...

2009-12-08T12:47:46.583-05:00

jack,
I like the subtlety of this story. May you both remember this anniversary vividly in the years to come...and for all the best reasons.

Thank you for commenting. You are always welcome here.

This post certainly bears re-reading. In precise...

2009-12-07T21:41:02.517-05:00

This post certainly bears re-reading.

In precisely two weeks, I shall hopefully celebrate thirty years of marriage. We plan to do so at the site of our honeymoon. Sort of.

For years and years, my wife insisted that we had spent part of our honeymoon at the Biltmore House, near Asheville, NC. Embarrassingly, I had no recollection. My excuse was that on our honeymoon we were both quite ill, and on codeine just to make it through the ceremony without coughing. Still, it was a sore point.

In recent years, as we've grown more and more comfortable, two things have happened (among a myriad of other changes...). First, she had gradually weakened on her insistence that we stayed at the Biltmore House. Second, I correspondingly eased on my demand that it was anything close to an issue.

So, the reality is: we never stayed there, (though she apparently did with an earlier boyfriend). And, I could genuinely not care less. Now, we can both laugh.

And look forward to spending our thirtieth anniversary there in two weeks.

Growing old is a challenge. But a sweet one if you are lucky.