tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27091251980268788352024-03-19T06:17:17.729-04:00Him+17An Older Woman, a Younger ManMichael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-29562259861566072032012-09-17T11:43:00.001-04:002012-09-17T14:26:44.876-04:00We stumped the astrologist.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0Moho438CpVE7Yo9lKsHkBh4ejmQfQlqIUDcgvfPitOIOHMouTHIb_XuhkyRnya7dqEynTH30l19_CtCkGtnEV9qwWNWIaPAhwjRQryLtfG6bhxNH-0P4W7uUra8ImJXMM5ESKjO_yA/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0Moho438CpVE7Yo9lKsHkBh4ejmQfQlqIUDcgvfPitOIOHMouTHIb_XuhkyRnya7dqEynTH30l19_CtCkGtnEV9qwWNWIaPAhwjRQryLtfG6bhxNH-0P4W7uUra8ImJXMM5ESKjO_yA/s200/Picture+1.png" width="171" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Last January, when Baltimore Style magazine
published a <a href="http://himplus17.blogspot.com/2012/01/pillow-talk.html"><span style="color: #0016e7;">self-interview</span></a> we did with ourselves (that's
redundant, isn't it?), an amateur astrologist contacted us. She was super-nice
in her note (as she is, no doubt, in real life). Intrigued by our age
difference, she wondered what the stars might have to say about why we got
together. She asked our permission to char our astrological lives. Sure, we
said, and sent her the information we had about our birth dates, times and
places.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">We heard back from her recently. Apparently,
figuring out a 1964 Libra and a 1947 Sagittarius ain't easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0016e7; font-family: Georgia;"><u><br /></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">"To be perfectly honest with you both,"
she wrote, "I can not make heads or tails of what I see."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Our charts, she told us, have spurred her to
acquire more formal training in astrology so she might meet challenges like
ours. So, one day we might hear from her again. I'd like that. My curiosity
hasn't waned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Or, perhaps there's another astrologist who would
like to puzzle us out, to look into the heavens, and to see how our lives are
arrayed.</span></div>
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Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-30824263483441288732012-09-02T13:01:00.000-04:002012-09-02T13:01:12.907-04:00Strange Bedfellows<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgttmqFEoJhrF0meeLzmw-Vqhak7sYFLjrkRbBqGj2fLfu615XHKFOVpRmHX-cDna44zI3THNHK2nD50uAqUwqIlzkmM6DleAqEIwP74XRnIV5sAYmhfHE8H-3RtvODzV6SxkSrG-1kgSpU/s1600/Pearl_Jam1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgttmqFEoJhrF0meeLzmw-Vqhak7sYFLjrkRbBqGj2fLfu615XHKFOVpRmHX-cDna44zI3THNHK2nD50uAqUwqIlzkmM6DleAqEIwP74XRnIV5sAYmhfHE8H-3RtvODzV6SxkSrG-1kgSpU/s320/Pearl_Jam1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sitting around the little bistro table in our kitchen
yesterday, the morning discussion over coffee and the newspaper careened from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoqKdWY692k">Clint Eastwood’s empty chair</a>
to the resurgent <a href="http://baltimore.orioles.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=bal&sv=1">Orioles</a>
and then settled on two urgent topics in our household. </div>
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Medicare. Pearl Jam.</div>
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It’s like that in our house: the collision of ages often makes
for interesting table talk.</div>
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Although the magic Medicare age is almost upon me, I’ve been
avoiding it for months. All those brochures that come in the mail trying to
sell me supplemental insurance? Most have gone into the recycling pile. So
finally yesterday Michael opened the laptop to medicare.gov and read aloud to
me from <a href="http://medicare.gov/sign-up-change-plans/decide-how-to-get-medicare/whats-medicare/what-is-medicare.html">“What
is Medicare?”</a> </div>
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After our brief lesson in donut
holes and Parts A & B, we turned to <a href="http://pearljam.com/">Pearl
Jam</a>. Michael was heading off yesterday afternoon to the two-day <a href="http://www.madeinamericafest.com/schedule.html">Made in America Music
Festival</a> up in Philly, where Pearl Jam headlines tonight.</div>
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He’s been a fan for a while. Me? Not so much. But on Friday
night he asked me to watch last year’s “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzI8OhR0IVY">Pearl Jam Twenty”</a> with
him, which he bought in anticipation of the concert.<span> </span>The movie<span>
</span>recounts the band’s beginning in 1991, follows its roar into the
national consciousness and celebrates its 20 years together. <span> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I watched mostly as a favor to Michael, but I found myself
totally smitten with these guys: their independence, their fierce loyalty to
their work and yes, even *some of * the music. </div>
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It’s like that in our house: I learn more about stuff I
never expected to care about because my younger husband keeps opening the world
to me. When the movie was over I told him, <i>Dang!
I’d like to go to the concert too now!</i></div>
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Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-23060464157823919742012-06-29T19:45:00.000-04:002012-06-30T08:50:21.434-04:00Almost Famous: Our TLC moment<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve had our Hollywood moment. Whoops! There it went. Did
you see it?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">No fret. No sweat. I’ll just back up the DVD, press the
super-slo-mo button…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The e-mail arrived from “a casting director” in “Los
Angeles.” She represented Stiletto Entertainment (stiletto? Knife or heel?).
She was on the prowl for younger men with older women to appear in a
documentary-style reality show for TLC, tasteful, you know, a “love story,” you
know, a “real-life <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mz3TkxJhPc" target="_blank">Harold and Maude</a>.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hm.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, she said she’d read <a href="http://pubs.aarp.org/aarptm/20110910_PR?pg=76&pm=2&u1=texterity&linkImageSrc=%2Faarptm%2F20110910_PR%2Fdata%2Fimgpages%2Ftn%2F0136_tbldpk.gif%2F#pg76" target="_blank">a piece in AARP: The Magazine</a>
written about me (which, incidentally, had been written <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">by me</i> about me), and she thought Sheri and I would be great for the
show, would I want to schedule a call, chat?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sure I would. I don’t watch TLC, and I didn’t know what sort
of entertainment Stiletto had in mind, but I’m up for adventure, Hollywood
cash, and, at the very least, a blog post. So I called the casting director. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXEUVmbAVjNJByklHRHAI9Y9OCg7UZJ8Yk2jGr09n550r_zYoOxqm18scLhK1y8kqnZSu8TjAGbpBp0ks5jGucAvns2JRIQMZHMIxA3UoyvJ2Ht585kZKnYdoP2_YAyzc5HTQbNU0lYU/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXEUVmbAVjNJByklHRHAI9Y9OCg7UZJ8Yk2jGr09n550r_zYoOxqm18scLhK1y8kqnZSu8TjAGbpBp0ks5jGucAvns2JRIQMZHMIxA3UoyvJ2Ht585kZKnYdoP2_YAyzc5HTQbNU0lYU/s200/Picture+2.png" width="200" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But before that, I checked out Stiletto Entertainment on the
internet. I expected porn, or street gangs, or street gang porn. I discovered
instead that their big speciality is <a href="http://www.stilettoentertainment.com/cruiseship/index.htm" target="_blank">providing talent for cruise ships</a>. Their
other No. 1 speciality? <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oU8TAkl7Tbg&feature=results_main&playnext=1&list=PL8ADAE74F4AD72D8E" target="_blank">Barry Manilow.</a> Older women with younger men? We’re soooo
in their demographic.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“We’re more about focusing on what’s going on in your life
rather than creating something,” the casting director told me. In particular,
they wanted people in an important moment. I thought of my wife’s upcoming
birthday (it’s one of those people mark) and how we plan to celebrate–at a
resort in Montana. Just perfect for a reality/documentary show, I thought. I
didn’t mention this, though.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“This is definitely going to be in the realm of sharing life
stories,” she said. “We want to find healthy, happy, successful relationships
to show. We don’t want the people who want to be on TV.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“How much does the appearance pay?” I asked the casting
director.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I’ll get back to you with that,” she said. She encouraged
me to mention the show on this blog and to check out TLC’s shows so I could see
for myself how tasteful they are.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYm6EO6DqxeD5Um4tKuJIAtEh4jGpd-vl1TVpoFh1R2uzTfv4z3vEVOtLx05V65o2VnAZlUmVW6OtLheuTWyVtIj4HcFmdNFRiUv7eYI20tAHI5Z9svOk6yrF_jrEyo5s6DK26FdHyMxk/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYm6EO6DqxeD5Um4tKuJIAtEh4jGpd-vl1TVpoFh1R2uzTfv4z3vEVOtLx05V65o2VnAZlUmVW6OtLheuTWyVtIj4HcFmdNFRiUv7eYI20tAHI5Z9svOk6yrF_jrEyo5s6DK26FdHyMxk/s320/Picture+1.png" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So, we hung up. And I visited the TLC website. And I knew,
right quick, that we don’t want to be on that channel. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Virgin Diaries</i>? 19 kids and whatever? Polygamists? How morbidly
obese women give birth? One review I read called TLC the <a href="http://api.gawker.com/powwow/conversation.html?r=http%3A%2F%2Fgawker.com%2F5864612%2Fthe-virgin-diaries-trailer-will-make-you-cringe" target="_blank">“master of the modern freak show.”</a> After watching the trailer for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Virgin
Diaries</i>, I thought never us, never-never-ever, not in a million <i>freaking</i>
years.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Unless the money was right. And by right I mean in the tens
of thousands. High tens. Maybe then. And yes, I know that's selling us cheap, but times are hard.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A couple of weeks later Hollywood e-mailed back with the offer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Just a quick update, the couples featured on the show WILL be
compensated. I think filming would only be a few days where we'd come to you to
do more interviews and get a glimpse into your everyday lives etc. I'm not sure
of the rate yet as they are figuring that out but I hope this helps a bit!”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ms. Casting Director, it helped not at all. Compensated? You
can be compensated without being paid. Are we talking “tens of thousands” or a
couple hundred? Are we talking A GRATIS CRUISE FEATURING BARRY MANILOW IN
PERFORMANCE?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I did write back. And we won’t be on the TLC show. But if
Stiletto does make the pilot, and TLC airs it, you can bet we’ll watch. And you
can bet we’ll tell you what we think.</span></div>Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-13866412506719099212012-05-24T05:14:00.000-04:002012-05-24T05:14:08.837-04:00Band of gold<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSdxK6FWnG3DYejqpoIQ8a0lFxc7ueGNZt3yseSjDsn9KkjzXhaGgQ6x4gpcxuFVSeTEl9yYS2OgSyyWREhnLMupLu9AT51rKR0sCjyafu3C1v06Iz96MsK3K0pOfoxQpE1xuEyPBG-di/s1600/ring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSdxK6FWnG3DYejqpoIQ8a0lFxc7ueGNZt3yseSjDsn9KkjzXhaGgQ6x4gpcxuFVSeTEl9yYS2OgSyyWREhnLMupLu9AT51rKR0sCjyafu3C1v06Iz96MsK3K0pOfoxQpE1xuEyPBG-di/s320/ring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday I went to a jeweler to have my wedding band cut
off. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No, it’s not the end of our 19-year marriage. The moment
itself was unremarkable: I was shopping for pants at the mall, on my way to a
hair appointment, when I stopped in at the jewelry store. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After a short wait, during which I worried more about being
late for my haircut than about cutting my wedding ring, a man appeared with a
turquoise device that had a tiny mechanical circle saw. Other store employees gathered round to
watch. In less than a minute, the ring was split and slipped off my swollen
finger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why have the ring cut off? That swollen finger requires
minor surgery today, and will probably be even more puffed up afterward. But isn’t it odd that of all 10 fingers
that could have developed a cyst, it just happens to be the ring finger on my
left hand? And wasn’t it odder still that I took the ring off when the finger
started to swell and then, after a week of having it gone, missed it so much
that I convinced myself the problem was getting better and shoved the ring back
on? Within a few days, it was too
late to get it off again, despite my best efforts with ice and Crisco. Ouch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still, despite that mundane moment at the mall, having your
wedding band severed feels significant. This little circle of gold has been a metaphor of commitment
19 years. Had I been smart enough to just leave it off when my finger grew too
big for it, it would still be in one piece, a circle complete. Instead, I’m
staring at a gap of air between the gold, the circle broken. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If it weren’t for my mother, I wouldn’t even have known you
could have a ring cut off. Twenty
years ago this month, my mom married an older man. She was 82; he was 86. She
had been a widow for seven years, and she still wore the thin gold band my
father had given her 58 years earlier.
Now, when her new beau wanted to slip his own ring on her finger, she couldn’t
get the old one past her arthritic knuckle. So she went to a jeweler and had it
cut off. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I still have the two pieces of her ring. For me they
represent her faith in the future, her willingness to step off into an unknown
land. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have faith in the future, too. Yesterday, the jeweler
assured me that my band could be repaired, my circle completed once again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-57079137253559844842012-03-15T14:20:00.000-04:002012-03-15T14:20:09.161-04:00Publication Day<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Twenty-some years ago, I walked a sidewalk on a Hartford evening,
side-by-side a pony-tailed volleyball-playing co-worker. You know who I’m
taking about. Among a group of other journos coming out of a bar, Sheri and I nevertheless
ended up in our own chat, as we seemed often to do those days. Side-by-side
walking. Practice, I suppose.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We talked about what each of us hoped would come
next in our own lives. Sheri mentioned Montana, and I allowed as how I wanted
to write fiction. Stories. Maybe a novel. I had cockeyed ideas
about graduate school, but didn’t how to apply or how much it cost or anything, really. Even as they came out of my mouth, the words, “graduate school,” made as much sense to me
as “string theory” does now. I was 26 and clueless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bxpb-mIeF1j_I-XwykFAH_Ri_GboJLTWau1A2Z60Jvs1uSd0IgjQobJz2-T4bOPzIUM7KC452ZF3rLsbBs8AXJoKR_eX85gDe4dkkUFzHIp_u5N3QfgawF_bnVCgvAleNeOk52_RChM/s1600/GREATEST_cover_smaller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bxpb-mIeF1j_I-XwykFAH_Ri_GboJLTWau1A2Z60Jvs1uSd0IgjQobJz2-T4bOPzIUM7KC452ZF3rLsbBs8AXJoKR_eX85gDe4dkkUFzHIp_u5N3QfgawF_bnVCgvAleNeOk52_RChM/s1600/GREATEST_cover_smaller.jpg" /></a>Some people might have laughed. Some might have pointed out
the difficulty of uprooting a life for graduate school, of the cost, of the
years given to a pursuit that would not be lucrative and perhaps not even
successful. But Sheri listened
to a younger man’s quixotic ambition, and she never varied the pace of her
steps. And later, when I wanted to move to Arkansas for that mythical graduate
school, she still kept pace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is publication day. Twenty years later, my first book
of fiction comes into the world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I think it is true that the reason I have both book and
Sheri in my life is that twenty-years ago an older woman listened to the optimism of youth and made room on that sidewalk for what
was unlikely, maybe even daft, and she considered it possible.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-79663403377318238402012-03-13T21:40:00.001-04:002012-03-13T21:44:06.016-04:00We're having a nervous breakdown...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lkyHlT8BM__Z2m7z2XXntii7U4ji9l-s6PC3uLozN9yaWOSbC1Cw9L8ak-0JkXrDDLfTo-XeJnDQprgky0kqFjP-sqMLup5lKWx3G78X1YHWrRt2nde8wQdt_-lx38yfT9Xyuiu_zqY/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lkyHlT8BM__Z2m7z2XXntii7U4ji9l-s6PC3uLozN9yaWOSbC1Cw9L8ak-0JkXrDDLfTo-XeJnDQprgky0kqFjP-sqMLup5lKWx3G78X1YHWrRt2nde8wQdt_-lx38yfT9Xyuiu_zqY/s320/Picture+4.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
... because <a href="http://www.jessicaanyablau.com/Jessica_Anya_Blau/Jessica_Anya_Blau.html" target="_blank">Jessica Anya Blau</a> seduced us into <a href="http://www.thenervousbreakdown.com/jablau/2012/03/six-question-sex-interview-with-michael-and-sheri/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=six-question-sex-interview-with-michael-and-sheri" target="_blank">talking about sex</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-68607260594911325532012-03-11T18:57:00.000-04:002012-03-11T18:57:14.723-04:00Love among the enchiladas<style>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGxp21lysYDgpa3VX55ZPI51jsP1wRnt5XXM_CERuhoeyad0vJ8aKj2-snL0oO3Sxu7ECCa9SVT9dNZw262c6IPrdAIlTH_o4iqYK2wn4TdebPammIL2frK9VAFHHAotI3GHbB3tlSj80/s1600/1991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGxp21lysYDgpa3VX55ZPI51jsP1wRnt5XXM_CERuhoeyad0vJ8aKj2-snL0oO3Sxu7ECCa9SVT9dNZw262c6IPrdAIlTH_o4iqYK2wn4TdebPammIL2frK9VAFHHAotI3GHbB3tlSj80/s320/1991.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dorky photo from 1991</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
Tonight we will drink champagne, toasting 21 years since the
night we sat together on a couch in my Hartford condo, looking our future full
in the face and saying yes to it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
It was March 11, 1991, a Monday night. The previous night,
as “just friends” (we thought), we had played in a weekly volleyball game.
Afterward, we had planned to make dinner together at my place; Michael had
bought everything necessary for enchiladas, including the Mexican cookbook. But
then I hurt my leg in the game.<span> </span>So
I sat with my leg on ice while he cooked. It took six hours. We joke now that
we had to grow the corn for the tortillas in order to make it all happen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
Who was I then? My life was full: I was writing a grant
proposal for funding to research the fate of American POWs left behind in North
Korea, working as a newspaper bureau chief, playing volleyball, swimming laps
at the Y, going to plays, choosing a sperm donor, reading both “The Little
Prince” and I.F. Stone’s “The Hidden History of the Korean War,” spending a
weekend with my sister at Cape Cod, taking a pottery class, watching the Gulf
War on TV, and trying to quit smoking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
I knew Michael was 26, but even on that night of the
enchiladas, he did not know my age. When we first met, he had guessed 36. Then,
after I once mentioned being in college in the late 1960s, he thought, “Maybe 40,
41.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HD4nNWe4BVtWjVxuVhFMB4tr5iHe7TRY-j6Ol8ojs50jBhEOJd7qphMisv-Z5GNrf68mLhi0zcL0eASxA5Ac0udcFQ7BRLKwFnxYbSZNUohS1rrjC5Q05fde5nOZWDqnZ9GBBGt29oL_/s1600/2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HD4nNWe4BVtWjVxuVhFMB4tr5iHe7TRY-j6Ol8ojs50jBhEOJd7qphMisv-Z5GNrf68mLhi0zcL0eASxA5Ac0udcFQ7BRLKwFnxYbSZNUohS1rrjC5Q05fde5nOZWDqnZ9GBBGt29oL_/s320/2012.JPG" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who we are today</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
Back to the enchiladas. It took so long that he didn’t leave
until 2:30 a.m. Before he left, he hugged me. He was shaking. The kitchen was a
mess. Both of us had to work in about eight hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
When I woke that Monday, it was all I could do to drag my
bad leg in to work. The condo was still in chaos. Egads, a 26-year-old guy had
made tortillas from scratch so you can imagine the helter-skelter in my tiny
galley kitchen. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
That evening, after work, he showed up to wash dishes, bearing a
bouquet of purple iris and a carton of ice cream.<span> </span>And that’s when it finally hit me: This guy is
serious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;">
Over ice cream, we abandoned the “just friends” façade.
There was too much joy, delight and exhilaration. We felt safe. Comfortable. He
gulped only once when I said, “43.” <span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-75287057477289057432012-02-15T18:45:00.001-05:002012-02-15T18:45:39.699-05:00Lucky 17<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/28P8kFict98" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The fact that Jeremy Lin wears number 17 just makes me like him that much more.</span>Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-84573798693397521882012-02-11T11:49:00.001-05:002012-02-11T11:49:08.844-05:00Last Movie from the 70s<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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Marlon Brando had stuck his gum under the railing of a Paris
balcony and died. His lover/murderer was practicing her lines for the police (“He
followed me home; he tried to rape me; I didn’t know his name”), and Sheri
said, “Well, I think that’s the last movie we need to watch that I’ve seen and
you haven’t.”</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHZR1949M9x5MsbIDfmOb-LmKxkofcncgAAyOX8fX9GkIys63Tu0u3Fvr4fL4UvhXJlnoR788D12r-Na4Y-Q8aT2YVyVNEHkqZwfcoTVH9-VUhxBH7NOE8Ng0BQhLoBVMvc63edX82RQ/s1600/Picture+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHZR1949M9x5MsbIDfmOb-LmKxkofcncgAAyOX8fX9GkIys63Tu0u3Fvr4fL4UvhXJlnoR788D12r-Na4Y-Q8aT2YVyVNEHkqZwfcoTVH9-VUhxBH7NOE8Ng0BQhLoBVMvc63edX82RQ/s320/Picture+6.png" width="168" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Tango in
Paris</i>. Prior to this, we’d watched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hud</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cool Hand Luke</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Midnight Cowboy</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Easy Rider</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Butch Cassidy
and the Sundance Kid</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Taxi Driver</i>.
All were movies that had a profound effect on Sheri when she’d seen them in
theaters; most I’d been too young to see.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For both of us, several seemed dated. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Easy Rider</i> was awful. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Butch
and Sundance</i> is marred only by the longish “Raindrops Keep Falling on My
Head” bicycle ride. Even bits of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Taxi
Driver</i> seem too much of their time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s my definition of a classic movie and an iconic movie:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Godfather</i>, released the same year
as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Tango</i>, is a classic, because its art gets closer to saying things about the human condition that
are always true.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibr-9L28cjn0Yn9VXyiY_NZs-hJotxWEkXWY65YwbiDzwf0Sc-U8MaCWr69TIstMKlZfoUgo3MDmKNUX73NM_HJEHrqP6TLYCB33enL1KqN49GCfnEGz2x-0SeVYHE1ZwASr5B3nQe94U/s1600/Picture+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibr-9L28cjn0Yn9VXyiY_NZs-hJotxWEkXWY65YwbiDzwf0Sc-U8MaCWr69TIstMKlZfoUgo3MDmKNUX73NM_HJEHrqP6TLYCB33enL1KqN49GCfnEGz2x-0SeVYHE1ZwASr5B3nQe94U/s320/Picture+7.png" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the font is dated</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Tango</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Easy Rider</i> are iconic, because they say
more about their times than they do about the eternal verities. Consequently, they don’t
hold up so well.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But they still teach me something about my wife, about who
she was once, what mattered to her, and about who she has become. I’m glad
she’s not burdened by nostalgia, that she can watch<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Last Tango</i> and say, “meh.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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(Me, I was taken by how much Marlon Brando’s performance
reminded me of Heath Ledger's turn as the Joker in <i>The Dark Knight</i>. Turns out,<a href="http://bubbler.wordpress.com/2008/08/18/ledgerbrando/" target="_blank"> I’m not the only one</a>). </div>
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<br /></div>
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We’ve watched a few movies that had a big impact on me, or
seemed to have a big impact on my generation. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Breakfast Club</i> was one. Meh.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPz9N0ERsFi4SRjy9Sz9D4PXzOG0_oXRynUPprZmgngkuEsZFu2htVV-lRtEPtT_sdU61pxoCSSuVNdAqssY-748fxO5sIOQBMBIFlU43n-OhAK2gQLVJ-v5h7SjPXEAyy6jPmD09Soc/s1600/Picture+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPz9N0ERsFi4SRjy9Sz9D4PXzOG0_oXRynUPprZmgngkuEsZFu2htVV-lRtEPtT_sdU61pxoCSSuVNdAqssY-748fxO5sIOQBMBIFlU43n-OhAK2gQLVJ-v5h7SjPXEAyy6jPmD09Soc/s320/Picture+8.png" width="277" /></a></div>
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But there’s still more to test. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blade Runner. Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Blue Velvet.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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How do you suppose Sheri will judge those? Which ones are
classic, and which ones merely iconic?</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-56575140827808120372012-01-27T14:27:00.002-05:002012-01-27T14:30:21.956-05:00What if?<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiv0oQ_FMWNS28_olS4dmlNAb94ocelQXlzIfSpMe5pEMYyHJeUtoEtHulrejZoNiMPlV2ObImYTwOZQAfH4_wzvnCcSInP4u6QtWDoNqY_Hb0xLOjw4rD8yKdtmG7azlpHDCR7-iMPoxZ/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiv0oQ_FMWNS28_olS4dmlNAb94ocelQXlzIfSpMe5pEMYyHJeUtoEtHulrejZoNiMPlV2ObImYTwOZQAfH4_wzvnCcSInP4u6QtWDoNqY_Hb0xLOjw4rD8yKdtmG7azlpHDCR7-iMPoxZ/s320/Picture+1.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laura Linney gets real with younger man Topher Grace in <i>P.S.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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What would you do for a second chance? </div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s the tagline for the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0380609/">2004 movie <i>P.S.,</i></a> which we watched a few nights ago, having put it on our
Netflix queue as another older woman/younger man love story. Louise, a 30-something
divorcée played by Laura Linney, is still mourning the death of her high school
boyfriend many years earlier. Now she meets a younger man who has his name, his
looks and his affinity for art. Has
her dead boyfriend returned? Naturally, complications ensue. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The movie didn’t dwell on the age gap (about 15
years), which was refreshing. The story
had more to do with the ex-husband, the best friend, and sibling tensions.
Still, it got me thinking about the idea of do-overs.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve written about <a href="http://himplus17.blogspot.com/2010/01/dream.html">just this thing</a>
before: the summer boyfriend spurned,
killed in a car accident and then mythologized. In my case he returned
in a dream to deliver a message about Michael, just when I needed to hear it. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do-overs aren’t always so transcendent. I’ve moved back to
places I’d lived before: Connecticut, Montana, Baltimore. I quit smoking at
least 10 times before that final cigarette 22 years ago. Lost weight, gained
weight, lost it, gained, lost again.
For writers, revising is a kind of do-over. Planting new seeds every
spring? A do-over. <s></s></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the fantasy of getting a for-real redo – erasing large
blunders and small goofs, getting things right after all these years – seems
hardwired into human nature. <i>What if?</i>
It’s an engaging vehicle for movies and books – in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Do-Over-Forty-Eight-Year-Old-Returns-Kindergarten-Embarrassments/dp/0316020605">one
2009 book</a> , a 48-year-old guy goes back to kindergarten and his prom night.
But <i>what if,</i> instead of looking back
and trying to redo your life, you could realize that what you might want to do
over is in front of you right now? In the movie, Louise reconciles with her
brother and lets go of the ex-husband as she recovers the balance she had lost
while living in the past. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My friend Courtney <a href="http://www.lifecultivated.com/2012/01/allow.html#more">put up a recent blog
post</a> that put this in perspective for me. A wise woman who just turned 32,
she wrote about how her life has moved from the leading edge of journalism to another
frontier that she loves even more: the husband, toddler, the hard work and
joy of farming in central Montana. She’s surprised at how her life has turned
out – it’s the last future she imagined for herself, but now that she’s in it,
she has no regrets, doesn’t want a do-over. </div>
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Life is hardly ever what you imagine it will be. Michael and
I have each abandoned places we love in order to be together. We’ve struggled
to pay the mortgage some months, watched our dogs die, had arguments over silly
things. But I've never wanted a do-over. And sometimes he’ll whisper into my neck, “Will you marry me?” Meaning: <i>I’d do all of it, all over again.</i> </div>
<i></i> <br />
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<br /></div>Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-15103970924200394502012-01-15T09:52:00.000-05:002012-01-15T09:55:00.018-05:00I'm a grouchy bear.<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Isn't the Cougar phenomenon so 2009? Isn't it history yet?</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Apparently not at the ad agency that put together the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FePn_CyVIk" target="_blank">newest ad for Dr Pepper</a>. Accompanied by a pop-jingle refrain "I gotta be me," people in the ad rip off their everyday clothes to reveal a red T-shirt with a self-describing logo in white. The first? "One of a Kind." The second? "I'm a dreamer." The third?</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPx2g2ZPPQKOCnhNAAKsyxq-zVuDii6N8AsbWKCJxznafLpbJWiCja6etXwoeYhQfSPpesjqbxLUShKz5KBt-Op3-IcS5Zjkt1iRi_bRtVDNl-yG0l7CV4xuueKnp5c9qMFfH5z4aJqwo/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPx2g2ZPPQKOCnhNAAKsyxq-zVuDii6N8AsbWKCJxznafLpbJWiCja6etXwoeYhQfSPpesjqbxLUShKz5KBt-Op3-IcS5Zjkt1iRi_bRtVDNl-yG0l7CV4xuueKnp5c9qMFfH5z4aJqwo/s320/Picture+2.png" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Bleech. And of course, the young hero of the ad gives our lady a second look. But! at the ad's end, he chooses the perky same-age brunette with the "I'm a Dr Pepper" Tee.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">This cougar stuff? Aren't we all ready for it to end now?</span></div>Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-29878212367631635942012-01-10T12:12:00.003-05:002012-01-10T13:02:00.880-05:00Pillow talk<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquysynzH2eZopXMq4C0Q8VGGE1zxkXaan2hVGxKlooawF7Dk2NrH7xntu9rjrfOLmOgN-dam6UkDaj37c_ta-jlORtX-a-ajqFbJLJX5JxirVMZFq0qCgydHFFV93XWEhV0GaK0ImEdE/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquysynzH2eZopXMq4C0Q8VGGE1zxkXaan2hVGxKlooawF7Dk2NrH7xntu9rjrfOLmOgN-dam6UkDaj37c_ta-jlORtX-a-ajqFbJLJX5JxirVMZFq0qCgydHFFV93XWEhV0GaK0ImEdE/s1600/Picture+1.png" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The newest issue of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.baltimorestyle.com/" target="_blank">Baltimore Style</a></i> magazine includes conversations with married couples of several
stripes, a la the couch-couples from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When
Harry Met Sally</i>, except they're not all old. <i>Style's</i> got your multiple-marrieds,
your newlyweds, your younger man and older woman…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yup. We’re included, too.</span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you want to read the piece, you’ll have to buy a copy
of the magazine ($3.95 at the newsstand); <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Style</i>
doesn’t put all of its articles on its web site. Having already read the piece we wrote, we were more interested when <i>Style</i> arrived to read what other couples had to say, and thus we offer you these gems:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>from Tom and Micheline McManus, who have had three wedding
ceremonies and plan another for 2018:</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">• “Getting married again (and again) is our way of saying,
‘I love the person you are now and continue to become.’ And maybe <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> person will learn how to iron.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">• “We thought we didn’t want a big wedding, that we didn’t
need it. But we were wrong; through the warmth and laughter of the people
gathered that day, our idea of marriage changed. There were more than two people
in a marriage, and that was good.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">• “Each wedding has come with an expansion of the guest
list, and a reminder that as we grow and change we need to make our promises
out loud all over again.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>from Erik and Polina Hansen, married three months</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Polina: “It’s always a holiday when he comes home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Erik: “I don’t have to impress her, but I still try.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>from Heather Moyer and Amy Sens, married in 2002, at a
church in Cambridge, Mass.</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Heather: “That was before it was legal, but Massachusetts
saw how amazing our wedding was and said, ‘We should legalize it!’ ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>Ron Smith and Julia Felscher, married 15 years</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ron: “I’m a real dreamer. I always want to do things without
thinking them through. Julia is more of a realist.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Julia: “I crush his dreams…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ron: “No, don’t say that!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Julia: “I like the fact that he’s a dreamer. It brings out
possibilities that I may not think about.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>Parker Mount and Laura Calhoun, married eight years (his
fourth marriage, her second)</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Laura: “For a while his family just called me ‘No. 4.’ They
didn’t even bother to know my name.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Parker: “They didn’t even bother with the word ‘number.’
They said, ‘Four.’ ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Laura: “I took it in stride. But they came around. You have
to have a sense of humor about it.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>Frank and Eva Manfire, married 61 years</b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frank: “My grandmother used to have this woman come into the
house to help out and she was like a fortuneteller. One day she told my
fortune. She said in a few years you’re going to get married and you’re going
to have a nice wife, but, I hate to tell you, she’s going to die right away.
You’re going to be living with her a few years and she’s going to pass away.
Well, I guess that was wrong!”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There you go. Now, what pillow talk do you have to offer?</span></div>Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-28256689808300995992012-01-02T10:38:00.001-05:002012-01-02T12:32:13.391-05:00In Our Cups<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNikCjz5KN3-78A3QAXMmFBAvDc6POJngMRugzyT4X7VPE3mWKPU7menlF9Zix1zr-4rKxfD5kKRtDDQQmbSAqSNdniQ7iS1hQCVEyX-LQuk0vyu214-DF6bQYuWy_R3JXpJKqTe4WxL0/s1600/new+cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNikCjz5KN3-78A3QAXMmFBAvDc6POJngMRugzyT4X7VPE3mWKPU7menlF9Zix1zr-4rKxfD5kKRtDDQQmbSAqSNdniQ7iS1hQCVEyX-LQuk0vyu214-DF6bQYuWy_R3JXpJKqTe4WxL0/s320/new+cups.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For the New Year (in which we wish you happiness) we have new cups. Readers may remember Michael’s</span><a href="http://himplus17.blogspot.com/2010/06/coffee-cups.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> paean to a favorite coffee mug,</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> broken by his wife a year or so ago.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span>In it he revealed that our preference in cups mirrors our preference in mates:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I like a cup that’s been around, that has character,” he wrote.</span>“I like a cup that tells stories.”<br />
<br />
“I like a fresh cup,” I told him after replacing his well-worn Polish National Home mug with a happy polka-dot version. “A clean one. One that’s new.”<br />
<br />
For Christmas, Michael’s sister Susan gifted us each with a new cup suited to our tastes. A bright yellow wake-up-cheerful version for me. Perched atop the handle is a perky piece of poultry, maybe a rooster, although it’s hard to say. Sleek and tapered, the cup says “modern.”<br />
<br />
For Michael, solid stoneware with an aqua glaze and lovely curved handle. A mellow mug with many stories, coming as it does from his parents’ cupboard, his father’s hand. What Susan didn’t realize was that the mug has even more history than that for Michael. He remembers the neighborhood women from his childhood coming home from Vermont vacations with hand-thrown mugs by Paul Gordon, of which this is one. This mug says “tradition.” It says “1970s.”<br />
<br />
Tell me again, just who is the older person in this marriage?Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-87277597634419387472011-12-11T15:58:00.001-05:002011-12-11T16:20:02.165-05:00Dear B-Frank...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dear Ben,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVfP6l0g6KQLOuYF-5XtiW9_xfLenq5tEANnj-KnXaJdjUxY3Yo1jp1idLfhCykX2BcKyi9Bg1dnPm8eSJvlbTkB5D-_IFZPrR9LEqiekBHhDmZiHe6QKur1mhv4sgHF-MrQ_N_ckAvo/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVfP6l0g6KQLOuYF-5XtiW9_xfLenq5tEANnj-KnXaJdjUxY3Yo1jp1idLfhCykX2BcKyi9Bg1dnPm8eSJvlbTkB5D-_IFZPrR9LEqiekBHhDmZiHe6QKur1mhv4sgHF-MrQ_N_ckAvo/s320/Picture+1.png" width="297" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Colonial-era sexy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My history professor, who is an old woman and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">frankly</i> (that’s a pun) kind of hot, <a href="http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/bdorsey1/41docs/51-fra.html" target="_blank">had us read a letter you wrote </a>so we could talk about how sex worked in the
Colonial era. I raised my hand and said that sex probably worked the same then as
it does now, you know, with Jell-o shots and certain body parts, but my
professor (did I mention that she’s hot?) means that people didn’t talk about sex
the same way or maybe have the same expectations, like the guy didn’t just
leave afterward, or maybe he did, but then the next day he ignored her
hand-written notes instead of pretending not to get her texts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My professor (legs like Beyonce’s!) told me we had to write
you a letter back. So here it is.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you watch E! now, you’d think no one ever went out with
an old woman before Demi Moore. But your letter shows that it’s old school! I
guess that proves what my professor<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>keeps saying: history shows us we’re not so special, and what
seems new is probably just unfamiliar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ll tell you what’s unfamiliar. When you say old women are
grateful that you date them, I can say honestly that is <i>not</i> my experience. I’ve
hooked up with a couple of cougars, some almost thirty-two, and it wasn’t
like they were grateful at all. B-Frank, let me tell you: My high school
football coach was less demanding than them old ladies. You hook up with
an old woman, you’ve got to meet some serious standards. Tuck your shirt in.
Pick the French fries up off the car floor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And Ben, I know your face is on the C-note, but I don’t think
that means you should call sex “commerce.” It’s funny to think of sex that way, but
mostly these days it’s illegal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, all in all, it is an interesting letter you wrote, and I admire your sexpertise. I don't have as much personal experience as you, but I'm paying careful attention when you say that old women
get lax in the upper parts while staying plump and firm in the lowers, so you
can’t really tell a woman's age in the dark. Let’s hope that’s true for you, too,
old man. Because you’re still a couple hundred years away from Viagra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your affectionate friend,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-52759756784034156092011-12-01T07:33:00.001-05:002011-12-01T07:52:06.180-05:00Zits and the Older Woman<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bVEUsGUXX3YltlCLEpAFq6TiTbu1aqCSCPWk7Ol23jxOtalsAaMXgIErB32dxqQYj8KY0EDTw2B_HjKu1VxVEhVDC2e9JK99kFdWb_16Bl2DN7D_4AOlv_KLmdSBTur4ktWnAIHCB3c/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bVEUsGUXX3YltlCLEpAFq6TiTbu1aqCSCPWk7Ol23jxOtalsAaMXgIErB32dxqQYj8KY0EDTw2B_HjKu1VxVEhVDC2e9JK99kFdWb_16Bl2DN7D_4AOlv_KLmdSBTur4ktWnAIHCB3c/s1600/Picture+2.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremy swoons for teacher.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Find Wednesday's entire strip <a href="http://www.zitscomics.com/?date=11-30-2011#comic-image" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-88704955115636078652011-11-28T07:39:00.001-05:002011-11-28T08:00:15.539-05:00Modern Love<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjRX31I7t5xWqm1RLe_E_4Zh9MbbLbWgKo3XHsj9l_FgnU-tIAFOFSdXIaMj8t67FBJciJ8qFW_C8yO1_kbrjnglUsFhE5UIGQCEJwvrXtFyekAaD9dqM08-6hTbKn3MP6vibEjxUTUY/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjRX31I7t5xWqm1RLe_E_4Zh9MbbLbWgKo3XHsj9l_FgnU-tIAFOFSdXIaMj8t67FBJciJ8qFW_C8yO1_kbrjnglUsFhE5UIGQCEJwvrXtFyekAaD9dqM08-6hTbKn3MP6vibEjxUTUY/s320/Picture+1.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They sit apart in the photo and together, two artists, she
at her loom, he lighting his pipe. She is Danish, he is African-American. He is
34 or 35. She is sixteen years older. They live in Denmark and have been
married five years.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sheri and I saw their photo last week at <a href="http://garimelchers.umw.edu/" target="_blank">an out-of-the-way museum that is also an historic estate</a> overlooking the Rappahannock River near
Fredricksburg, Virginia. The day we arrived, <a href="http://www.sites.si.edu/exhibitions/exhibits/williamhjohnson/index.html" target="_blank">a traveling exhibit</a> presented the
art of <a href="http://americanart.si.edu/education/classroom/help/bio/" target="_blank">William Henry Johnson</a>, an influential Modernist who did most of his best
work from about 1926 until the mid-1940s. He is the man Sheri and I saw in the
photograph, lighting his pipe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHu60Ae2WWiAIRsdxh-HqylldSDklD3PvPjM6muXjUVkIw33IUOS5AxCe5vtCJWhBnwsLHvH3yMdReyRWB49ch5J8XtD7P846WBS4McJgSZ6MnK-klJmpDFzS3iOQjHaSAL98YHxL_mM/s1600/Picture+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHu60Ae2WWiAIRsdxh-HqylldSDklD3PvPjM6muXjUVkIw33IUOS5AxCe5vtCJWhBnwsLHvH3yMdReyRWB49ch5J8XtD7P846WBS4McJgSZ6MnK-klJmpDFzS3iOQjHaSAL98YHxL_mM/s320/Picture+9.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lofoten Island, 1937</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And what an artist! His canvases show range, dynamism, and a
willingness to explore. European expressionism in his work gave way
to something like cubism, gave way to what he called “primitive”
two-dimensional art. Talented and experimental, he decided at a young age that,
“I am not
afraid to exaggerate a contour, a form, or anything that gives more character
and movement to the canvas.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Born poor in South Carolina, Johnson later studied art in
New York City. A mentor helped him raise money to visit Paris in 1926, and it
was in France that he met a Danish weaver/artist named Holcha Krake. Sixteen
years apart in age, the couple married in 1930, traveled throughout Europe and
North Africa to study art, and settled mostly in Denmark to paint and to weave.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy4wiA9ndIsfitL1baWKPWwIlfnyN4FvSO3jD1tgY6EPAUxrVxYRRPq6NtbK64hRhyphenhyphen8G9haDXjJapxmZxPpW0xxdoLE2JxhevnLDRSaH0ToKAvLx67ZgmgRty4UV6Ujwns2xLuXN_9ZU/s1600/Picture+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy4wiA9ndIsfitL1baWKPWwIlfnyN4FvSO3jD1tgY6EPAUxrVxYRRPq6NtbK64hRhyphenhyphen8G9haDXjJapxmZxPpW0xxdoLE2JxhevnLDRSaH0ToKAvLx67ZgmgRty4UV6Ujwns2xLuXN_9ZU/s320/Picture+5.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In 1938, fearing how invading Nazis would react to a black
man married to a white woman, they moved to New York City. They continued to
work, even exhibiting together, and Johnson began his shift toward colorful
two-dimensional primitivism.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Six years later, Holcha died of breast cancer. By all
reports, Johnson’s grief tipped him away from what might have already been a
fragile sanity. He painted a year or so more, then was institutionalized at a
state mental hospital in New York, where he lived the rest of his life, never
painting again. He died in 1970.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Don’t let that happen to you,” Sheri said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcs7oLOOze34NGiEiDyXDTFAkWRLpamaGsV7KTCCcbrQNcHSAAdnU1p1lcEm3EGzgmMFhyKMg5uxm0Bf21Zgz25SB3kjeoccruFPcToVjkOSqhxKoXxWfo4ITNhfTK9QUDL3hXIiILzK8/s1600/Picture+11.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcs7oLOOze34NGiEiDyXDTFAkWRLpamaGsV7KTCCcbrQNcHSAAdnU1p1lcEm3EGzgmMFhyKMg5uxm0Bf21Zgz25SB3kjeoccruFPcToVjkOSqhxKoXxWfo4ITNhfTK9QUDL3hXIiILzK8/s320/Picture+11.png" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jitterbugs, 1941</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We were the only people in the gallery, alone with William
and Holcha and William’s art. We left their love story and went to look again at
his painting of a couple dancing the Jitterbug.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-70817745146606650782011-11-20T09:36:00.001-05:002011-11-20T09:38:08.763-05:00Kaput<script src="http://storify.com/Sheriven/kaput.js"></script><noscript><a href="http://storify.com/Sheriven/kaput" target="_blank">View the story "Kaput" on Storify</a>]</noscript>
<script src="http://storify.com/Sheriven/kaput.js">
</script><br />
<noscript><a href="http://storify.com/Sheriven/kaput" target="_blank">View the story "Kaput" on Storify</a>]</noscript>Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-69411055602450263782011-11-13T03:02:00.001-05:002011-11-13T03:11:13.886-05:00Advice from the Times of India<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Would it be right,” asks the Times of India <a href="http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-10-30/man-woman/30338560_1_cougar-relationships-younger-men-older-woman">in a recent article</a>, “to say that despite growing in numbers, the
older-woman-younger-man-relationship always comes with a very short shelf
life?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My goodness. One hopes not.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WoIxmB1bFSIiFrXlbNyg2GzfiQ7n8OWwfkduOg8fmxxyiDMvetrzhG1JTJqcdKYQXorbbuyfogLD5RYJYMkGie2N3i8cNrWlqrAkfZW9FuE-LTLc1OKCjtgVAABoW44mrbWbuH8abg4/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WoIxmB1bFSIiFrXlbNyg2GzfiQ7n8OWwfkduOg8fmxxyiDMvetrzhG1JTJqcdKYQXorbbuyfogLD5RYJYMkGie2N3i8cNrWlqrAkfZW9FuE-LTLc1OKCjtgVAABoW44mrbWbuH8abg4/s200/Picture+4.png" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Saif and Amitra</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, the Times offers me as proof, there is the breakup of
Madonna and Guy Ritchie. And Courtney Cox’s split from David Arquette. And of
course the divorce of that young pup Saif Ali Khan from his 12-years-older
wife, Amitra Singh, after a 13-year Bollywood marriage. Even that most famed of
Cougar unions, DemiAshton, reports the Times, is in danger of disunion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Oh, yes. The
famous couples.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Putting aside the fallacy that the lives of the rich and
famous are evidence of anything except the lives of the rich and famous, I’m
going to give writer Haimanti Mukherjee credit for interviewing a relationship
counselor for advice that could keep a HimPlus love affair going. That advice–mostly
directed toward women–seems fairly solid. In summary, this is what the Times
suggests:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Women needn’t act their man’s age. They need to act their
own. He didn’t fall in love with a woman his age; he fell in love with you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2. Just because the woman acts her own age doesn’t mean she
gets to mother her man.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. No couple does everything together, and that’s also true for
older women and younger men. So what if she wants to watch “The Breakfast Club”
one more time, and he wants to run up the side of a mountain? It’s okay to let
your partner enjoy his age sometimes without you; and you can enjoy yours
without him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">4. Refrain from asking over and over, “Why did you fall for
an older woman?” If you keep asking, he might eventually wonder, too.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All good points, to which I might add only this:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don’t fall for a movie star.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-81479740872648225282011-10-28T12:18:00.000-04:002011-11-13T03:07:25.011-05:00Why I Love the Man I Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-iWm1Nn5Y8uutzORxDJigzG8byi6iYuHXF45-DyaQMaIIUF90QAmBaAc6ztLgRPnqPTs5LOsDlJHefHEfq-XmLfP6EmD96ZngpCno3MAGKioWRh94p-7-np_-iod3osLa51ilF702qHM/s1600/Downs_1156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-iWm1Nn5Y8uutzORxDJigzG8byi6iYuHXF45-DyaQMaIIUF90QAmBaAc6ztLgRPnqPTs5LOsDlJHefHEfq-XmLfP6EmD96ZngpCno3MAGKioWRh94p-7-np_-iod3osLa51ilF702qHM/s320/Downs_1156.jpg" width="212" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>And how it has nothing to do with age.</i><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He taught me to love dogs;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Every day, he teaches me (and this is often a struggle) to
be more patient;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He eats my sour-cream-almond apple pie;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He asks for more apple pie;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He always makes the small world larger;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Watching a bird, a star, or a spider web, he can also make
the large world small;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He sometimes uses spices named “elk rub” or “venison rub” on
eggs;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He looks terrific in a suit;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He knows what’s happening in Kashmir;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He loves to dance;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I ask for the 80<sup>th</sup> time, he turns the TV on
mute to explain – for the 80<sup>th</sup> time –what an onsides kick is;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He likes duckpin bowling;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He always knows where he’s going;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He wears a silver Hopi bracelet;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When he shot his first deer, he wanted not only to gut it,
but to skin and butcher it himself, to know where the meat came from;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He did not want trophy photos of the dead deer but let his
father take them anyway because dad was proud of son.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">His sense of wonder has not diminished;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He lets me put my cold hands on his warm, bare skin;</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He knows that angels can dance on the head of a pin, or to a
Van Morrison song, or in a good single-malt, or in a well-turned phrase.</span></li>
</ul>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-65202088074132485382011-10-16T21:21:00.001-04:002011-10-16T21:21:06.505-04:00Is it creepy to have a crush on a 19-year-old?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yesterday,
we celebrated my 47<sup>th</sup> birthday. It’s a nothing-burger of a number,
so undramatic that I actually forgot my age. Sheri had to remind me. Turns out
I’m younger than I thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But
am I young enough to have a crush on a 19-year-old woman? Or is it creepy? Does
it make a difference if she’s my wife?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2ntdXXsPE6Hvh6u3_CJOBNsdySlfwrjFFKolEvd9VEZI8gvKAOmhZIEWe5nujYMue6jRL1sO6TDlp_K7CxEXBQKgzhx4VZpWOnVlOtoK5s09F_DAZ1mO3_LM3wFcB7UQfJOOwObKEpQ/s1600/DSCF4203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2ntdXXsPE6Hvh6u3_CJOBNsdySlfwrjFFKolEvd9VEZI8gvKAOmhZIEWe5nujYMue6jRL1sO6TDlp_K7CxEXBQKgzhx4VZpWOnVlOtoK5s09F_DAZ1mO3_LM3wFcB7UQfJOOwObKEpQ/s400/DSCF4203.JPG" width="266" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For
a month or so now, this photo has sat in a frame on my desk. Where it came from
or how it rose to the top of our pile of old photos, I’m not exactly sure. But when
I saw it, I wanted it on my desk. It’s the young woman, aged 19, who will one
day be my wife, and she’s careening down the slope of a famous Michigan sand
dune named <a href="http://www.nps.gov/slbe/planyourvisit/climbingdunes.htm">Sleeping Bear</a>. Frankly, if Sheri were turning 19 again this year,
she’d probably still be running down that slope. The more things change …<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But
she’s not 19. She’s 63. And when this photo was taken I was still pooping my
pants and saying “No!” a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve
written before <a href="http://himplus17.blogspot.com/2009/11/love-and-knife-blade.html">about how Sheri in her 20s would never have paid a twenty-something me much attention</a>. Sheri at 19, though, the young woman who is hurtling down
this hill – she might have liked a 19-year-old me, and I her. She is so much the
woman I love, before she is distracted by dangerous men in her twenties. Her
world is all sun and sand and picnic benches at the hill’s bottom, and earnest
joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But
we didn’t meet, and couldn’t have, and so, in a strange way, all I’m allowed is
a crush on her from a distance of some 44 years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sheri
doesn’t seem jealous of the way I fancy her younger self. That makes sense. She’s
still married to the 47-year-old me, and that won’t change. And the part of me
that’s smitten with a 19-year-old Sheri isn’t the part that’s here with her
now, and married, and which on my birthday hiked alongside her for five miles over
a central Maryland mountain. The part of me that’s smitten isn’t even sitting
at my office desk admiring her in black-and-white. It’s 19-years-old, just as
she is, and watching her from a picnic bench in Michigan in 1967, pleased and
hopeful and impossible.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-71896026095348058262011-10-12T23:51:00.000-04:002011-11-13T03:08:05.318-05:00True love?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBow-2PQgjdISzU3VflofecO95_KToV9NlbZnetc5PKo4sezwdZcg9AlEDc4oF7DRxl49mR4mJuDyQbKUYX-9MVV7iC0JYBEF2Bg8FFBdij1xXS7Im69fvGB5S_rwjSmo5oBv_HWISmJf8/s1600/article-2045627-0E3E13C300000578-38_306x480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBow-2PQgjdISzU3VflofecO95_KToV9NlbZnetc5PKo4sezwdZcg9AlEDc4oF7DRxl49mR4mJuDyQbKUYX-9MVV7iC0JYBEF2Bg8FFBdij1xXS7Im69fvGB5S_rwjSmo5oBv_HWISmJf8/s320/article-2045627-0E3E13C300000578-38_306x480.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The most famous woman in Spain, the fabulously wealthy 85-year-old Duchess of Alba, <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2045627/Duchess-Alba-marries-toyboy-Alfonso-Diez-lavish-wedding-ceremony.html">takes a 60-year-old husband.</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What is there to say about this age-gap relationship?</span>Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-90399221456182159062011-09-30T09:21:00.000-04:002011-09-30T09:21:40.548-04:00Tree rings and crow's feet<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mary’s comment on a previous post went something exactly
like this:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>“Dude. </i></span></span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I
gotta say :o, she looks younger than you do.</i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmHkCcQrxxJuCRbRGZwgEhXMySXudQn0c7IwSNJ39UIqQHdNnyB0JsU3Q5EAQiGWHvDErPDjMvUz9ZoBpUnR3EPDlLUotcToIAefYH-lOMMovAvDT8MHEY9XAi-uo1tYfLKUh3ueJSVE/s1600/Picture+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmHkCcQrxxJuCRbRGZwgEhXMySXudQn0c7IwSNJ39UIqQHdNnyB0JsU3Q5EAQiGWHvDErPDjMvUz9ZoBpUnR3EPDlLUotcToIAefYH-lOMMovAvDT8MHEY9XAi-uo1tYfLKUh3ueJSVE/s200/Picture+9.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why do people say I look<br />older than Sheri?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That bright light streaking through the heavens that you
thought was a falling chunk of NASA space junk? Actually, it was an ascending
Venema–after reading that comment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Me? I say, “Old news.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JKe8MJjjGVDSeACS5xKwQyg8OPnp0E1bEZ1ZL9Chh4dpNSVVeAK6O-TgO4pT7aq9yCiR6KqpIOa1jvWTroov5-vv4MhDvnYMutfWnaOdP-nBk5VaYA3_VaNMMugw4ph0-P0EPWOAcIM/s1600/Picture+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JKe8MJjjGVDSeACS5xKwQyg8OPnp0E1bEZ1ZL9Chh4dpNSVVeAK6O-TgO4pT7aq9yCiR6KqpIOa1jvWTroov5-vv4MhDvnYMutfWnaOdP-nBk5VaYA3_VaNMMugw4ph0-P0EPWOAcIM/s200/Picture+8.png" width="156" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmHkCcQrxxJuCRbRGZwgEhXMySXudQn0c7IwSNJ39UIqQHdNnyB0JsU3Q5EAQiGWHvDErPDjMvUz9ZoBpUnR3EPDlLUotcToIAefYH-lOMMovAvDT8MHEY9XAi-uo1tYfLKUh3ueJSVE/s1600/Picture+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There has always been a discrepancy between our actual
birth-certificate-certified ages and how old we look – or, more accurately, how
old Sheri looks. When we started dating, I mistook her age for about a decade
younger than she actually was. Shortly after we went public, Sheri’s friend, S.,
said our age difference wasn’t visually apparent because I could pass for ten
years older and Sheri could pass for ten years younger. I could have taken that
as an insult, I suppose, but what I heard was “Michael looks mature enough to consort
with Sheri.” To which I thought, “Naturally.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But recently, another friend–catching glimpses of us in
photos on the blog–wrote to us that “Michael is catching up” to Sheri, visually.
And then there was Mary’s comment, that with fallow field atop my skull, crow’s
feet when I laugh, gray stubble on my chin, I’d passed Sheri by.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Over the last few days I’ve asked people who don’t know me
well to guess my age. The massage therapist said 45, the woman working the
counter at the Peruvian restaurant guessed 50, and the co-owner of our favorite
neighborhood restaurant said, “Hmmmm. 47.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Those guesses were all in range, and the restaurant owner
was scary accurate (wish me a happy 47</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> on Oct. 15). This
unscientific survey suggests that I actually do look my age. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What that means, exactly, I can’t say. How does someone </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">look</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> his or her age? What do we see in
each other that allows us to guess an age with remarkable accuracy, so much so
that “she doesn’t look her age” is the exception rather than the rule?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Veterinarians look at dogs’ teeth tartar to estimate years.
Dendochronologists count tree rings. We humans seemed to be attuned to each
others’ posture and hair, skin, fashion sense, and all those things add up to a
number. The number is necessary, somehow, or we wouldn’t develop the age-sense.
Certainly, there are biological reasons, but perhaps we have social, tribal reasons,
too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe, on some level, perceiving age is protective. On an
occasional weekend I walk across the campus where I teach, and surrounded by
all that youth, I’m struck with a strange unnerving sense that the authority I
have during the week has vanished and that I’m now an alien, an intruder, and I
think about that </span><a href="http://www.online-literature.com/yeats/781/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">famous Yeats’ line</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, and I leave as soon as I can, and hurry
back to my wife who apparently looks my age, or younger, and with whom I always
feel at ease.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->
Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-51482377541472165992011-09-19T09:41:00.000-04:002011-09-19T09:42:41.860-04:00Same as the Old Boss.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As </span><a href="http://michellerichmond.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a friend</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> wrote on Facebook recently, You don’t kiss and
tell, and you don’t fight and tell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Except, of course, when you write a blog.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“When are you going to write about how you two argue?” asked
a young woman who is involved with an older man. She wondered whether an age
gap could contribute/influence/lead to a verbal wrasslin’ match. So I said to
Sheri, “I think I’ll blog about how we argue.” And I mentioned something about
authority, etc., etc.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What happens? <a href="http://himplus17.blogspot.com/2011/09/you-cut-tomato-and-i-cut-tomatoes.html">She steals my blog idea</a>, and now the world
thinks I don’t know how to cut a tomato.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyR4VOWE4Rm0qHgKRYZEigohmoGYuKVmNcRvhEWnzhsbPiqw13Men_7ttUsySFrmmpLc4ftkoIiSfuW-Et5ccKyujA7u8EGbzhpgWEhegFbdIc_zcZl840ZCr_K7K4W4LVCqp607h2Kt0/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyR4VOWE4Rm0qHgKRYZEigohmoGYuKVmNcRvhEWnzhsbPiqw13Men_7ttUsySFrmmpLc4ftkoIiSfuW-Et5ccKyujA7u8EGbzhpgWEhegFbdIc_zcZl840ZCr_K7K4W4LVCqp607h2Kt0/s320/Picture+1.png" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">YOU WILL RESPECT MY AUTHORITAH!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I KNOW HOW TO CUT A TOMATO, SHERI!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You use a knife. Not a fork.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But it is true, I have more than once given way in arguments
out of a sense that Sheri is more experienced, with a better vantage from which
to see the world, and thus, bears a greater authority. From a young age I’ve
respected authortiy, wanting to believe whatever God, the Declaration of
Independence, and </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LDgpQyuvAo&feature=related"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Captain Kangaroo</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> had to tell me. Becoming a newspaper
reporter, I think, gave me a structure in which to learn to question authority.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then came Sheri. And I had no newsroom to back up my
challenges.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hot water in the ice cube trays makes the ice better? Cold
water in the coffee pot makes better coffee? Okey-dokey. We’ll do it your way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And when I insisted my way was the right way, we got into
some of our most helacious cold-shouldered knockdown arguments. One was over
chocolate chip cookies. I’ve never since tried to bake chocolate chip cookies.
The marriage means that much to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But here’s something else that has happened over the years.
Sheri has agreed that there are subjects in which I’m the champ. Where to get
the car fixed? Me. Installing light fixtures? Me. Picking a dog from a litter
and training it? Me. Sense of direction and where we need to turn? Me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And because she’s ceded authority to me in those spheres,
I’ve found it easier and easier to speak up in other spheres when I question a
point-of-view she takes, or a method of doing things. After all, she didn’t
marry me because she wanted an employee. She wanted a husband. So now, twenty
years deep, my reactions aren’t based on a vassal-serf dynamic, nor are hers.
Now, we’re better at listening to each other rather than playing semi-conscious
roles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So I get to cut the frikkin’ tomato any danged way I want.</span></div>
Michael Downshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06638035877115413915noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-25808075599610643042011-09-10T11:26:00.000-04:002011-11-13T03:08:42.507-05:00You cut tomato, and I cut tomatoes<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPMWfXmhv8tveK5s7sbevu2ubDplXGcpattMBuFVSr5HmFg-F4p1HIOGtxrbnR80puJ0F_wTu536SazcyHhIHBJVGLoYktjoxBynA20s4g8fkT5WoteemPt0qhsLiH3lZS5dXBA05MDoQ/s1600/tomato.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPMWfXmhv8tveK5s7sbevu2ubDplXGcpattMBuFVSr5HmFg-F4p1HIOGtxrbnR80puJ0F_wTu536SazcyHhIHBJVGLoYktjoxBynA20s4g8fkT5WoteemPt0qhsLiH3lZS5dXBA05MDoQ/s200/tomato.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Set your tomato preferences here</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Michael told me this week that he thinks he often concedes to me in an
argument. Because I’m older,
because he first knew me as an authority figure (he was a reporter; I was an
editor, but not <i>his </i>editor), he still subconsciously believes, he says, that I
must always be right. This isn’t true all the time, but enough so that it
apparently gnawed at him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We’ve been talking about this lately because of an ongoing
discussion regarding two rather quotidian items: how to cut tomatoes and vacuum
wood floors. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last week Michael asked me for the 875<sup>th</sup> time in
our life together how I like a tomato cut. (I like it cut across; he cuts from top
to bottom). I figured he was just being passive-aggressive, because it’s not
really that hard to remember. So this time I just opted out. I don’t care
anymore how you cut the blasted tomato, I said. <i>Eureka!</i> I realized that I really <i>didn’t</i> care how he cuts a tomato. It tastes the same. There is no
right way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIImadAygV7sgBZvf9tVbin8AZcLmbUd-B0ll0qcX1VhfG4nG6HNR-1dpy25Dn742hVWhpk8q3A4S_35G3wAlYjCvfOHw6KIMbN6ZHquJcB6RiRl4T4bHQwpHMZRBTrVwAt-zmQ8v8ggRl/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIImadAygV7sgBZvf9tVbin8AZcLmbUd-B0ll0qcX1VhfG4nG6HNR-1dpy25Dn742hVWhpk8q3A4S_35G3wAlYjCvfOHw6KIMbN6ZHquJcB6RiRl4T4bHQwpHMZRBTrVwAt-zmQ8v8ggRl/s200/Picture+1.png" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Who's Who?</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I’m honest with myself, I can admit that having Michael think I was right all the time gave me a little ego boost. We both know I'm wrong a lot. (There was that time I was outraged in the supermarket checkout line to find David Duke, leader of the Louisiana Ku Klux Klan, on the cover of a national magazine, only to have Michael tell me it was really Cowboys quarterback Troy Aikman). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But we both fell for the myth (she must be right: she's older!) without even realizing it. Now, when I drag that
myth out of the dark corner of my brain and into the light, it seems not only
silly but dangerous.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I still think I’m right about the wood floors, though.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2709125198026878835.post-59109178323812799642011-08-29T12:21:00.000-04:002011-08-29T12:25:54.013-04:00Getting past the fling<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We’ve been amazed and delighted by all the traffic on this
blog since</span><a href="http://draft.blogger.com/goog_2049543687"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></a><span style="color: windowtext;"><a href="http://pubs.aarp.org/aarptm/20110910_PR?pg=76&pm=2&u1=texterity&linkImageSrc=%2Faarptm%2F20110910_PR%2Fdata%2Fimgpages%2Ftn%2F0136_tbldpk.gif%2F#pg76"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Michael’s essay ran in AARP magazine.</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> And
we are tremendously moved by so many of your stories. One thing that I’ve
noticed as the comments have been piling up: Many of you women in relationships
with younger men say you were more troubled by the age difference than your man
was. And some of you mention that your guy pursued you enthusiastically before
you believed it was for real.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcyosJ42P4R7eyU0WCjCk9EjHCChQOEreSKVOHX_u8f65sTW5V2sw7JRCbZvO2gczesF8iRkvRQbJPUQ9MQhmkjhEuJUMh35LMG-9qsdUBGQ3-xmN-M6YPEOSR4LuKx3X334QgDYK3W7U/s200/cheeseburger-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yum!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcyosJ42P4R7eyU0WCjCk9EjHCChQOEreSKVOHX_u8f65sTW5V2sw7JRCbZvO2gczesF8iRkvRQbJPUQ9MQhmkjhEuJUMh35LMG-9qsdUBGQ3-xmN-M6YPEOSR4LuKx3X334QgDYK3W7U/s1600/cheeseburger-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My experience was sort of the same: The age difference
bothered me a lot more in the beginning than it did Michael. I felt embarrassed
by it (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">can’t she get a guy her own age?)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">
worried that I was making a huge mistake, and yet afraid it wouldn’t last.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">On the other hand, Michael was wary about starting a new
relationship (he had recently ended a difficult one) and so he didn’t really
pursue me in the classic sense. He did bring me flowers once, but his early gifts
tended toward more practical things, like cheeseburgers for a late night at the
office or the loan of a record album.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Here’s some of what our readers shared:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Practicallytwisted, who’s just starting a relationship with
a man 18 years younger, said: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm more
preoccupied with the difference than he is, I think, and I leap too far into
the future instead of remaining in the present where it is wonderful and
exciting.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">An anonymous poster, married to a man 12 years younger, wrote: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He said to tell you he doesn't even think
about the age or the dying, but rather the living! I must admit that I think
about it though.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dally, married to a man 9 years younger, wrote this after reading
Michael’s piece: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Until now I have felt
rather isolated, as far as our age gap goes. But now I'm saying, "Wa-hoo!
No big deal!" (which it has never been for my hubby) I'm 63 and he's 54,
and we've been married 8 years.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Another anonymous commenter in a him+17 marriage for 21 years writes: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was more uncomfortable about the age
difference than he was at the start (he was 30 and I was 47) and now I can't
imagine why I was so concerned.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But here’s my favorite. This, from KK, who has a younger boyfriend</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">: I tell people that I did not rob the
cradle, he robbed the grave! He pursued me until I finally gave in...thinking
it was just a whimsy and it wouldn't last.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’m happy to know my experience wasn’t unusual. I wonder if
we just can’t believe our good fortune in finding a soul mate and so we tamp
down our expectations</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I’ll just have a
fling, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">we tell ourselves, or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">it’ll be
fun as long as it lasts</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. And then, surprise! It lasts!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sheri Venemahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11117021698696644553noreply@blogger.com17